SOTD: Christian Dior DUNE Pure Perfume

Unlike many of the scents that litter the floors and shelves of the 'vault, I can actually remember when Dune was released in 1991. At the time it seemed 'out of left field' for Dior- far from Poison and the decadent, increasingly dark images of fashion in the late 1980s. 

Looking back Dior was right on time. In fashion, the 1990s ushered in a new era embodied by the ideals of enlightenment and sleek minimalism; a quest for serenity. Dior was not the innovator in this new trend but an imitator, following on the heels of a relative new comer Calvin Klein.

Klein entered the fragrance arena with his super smash oriental fragrance Obsession in 1985; he followed up with the center of his fragrance empire, Eternity in 1988. Both of Klein's scents sold so well that his next scent was subject a huge advertising campaign- 1991's Escape. Escape was a supposedly "new" type of scent for women at the time featuring marine elements. But it wasn't kept such a secret and by the time advertising for Escape hit the streets in magazines and even on television, Christian Dior was right on his heels with his own scent which featured hints of marine notes and beachy grasses. It hit the shelves that same year in 1991.

Scent-wise Dune and Escape are not very similar. Escape is the more marine of the two, a sweet rose that somehow has the harsh feel of salt water crashing onto the sandy shore.

Dune is much richer, more complex; it's a proper French perfume. It manages to feel sandy and sunny, breezy and beachy but without harsh synthetic edges. People fault Dune for it's strength and sillage. I can see why; the edt can ruin a perfectly nice day. But I was lucky enough to find the pure perfume. Dabbed rather sprayed on, it is completely different experience. The parfum sings with peony, aldehyde and woody notes lifted by lily, ylang-ylang and drenched in sandalwood, moss, vanilla and amber. You might not think of Dune as a good choice for January days but I'm in California after all and the radiant warmth close to the skin is quite lovely antidote for the cold, actually.

Jean-Louis Sieuzac composed Dune with top notes of bergamot, mandarin, palisander, aldehyde, peony and broom; heart notes of jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower and lichen; base notes of vanilla, patchouli, benzoin, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, and musk.
It hasn't been discontinued but rather heavily reformulated.

I would only buy DUNE in older and pure perfume form.
 
The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

photographs from smellyblog, google images, perfume shrine.

Vintage Cordon Vert eau de coty : How Coty did Cologne

Coty's Cordon Vert became famous to me because it is included in Guy Robert's Les Sens Du Parfum as one of the top must try scents of modern perfumery. One of only five Coty "must try" fragrances, Roberts places it alongside Chypre, Ambre Antique, Emeraude, L'Origan; Coty's Cordon series included Rouge and Vert. I believe both were both created in 1905, despite the oft given year 1909 (a bit of misinformation found in many reliable sources). I get the 1905 date directly from the label of a bottle of Cordon Vert in my collection- which plainly states "creation 1905" at the top of the label. I have seen images of Cordon Rouge with the same label style as my Vert bottle and those appear to share the date on the label but never seeing it up close I wonder if perhaps the Rouge date is marked 1909, whereas the Vert is certainly 1905. Not that those few years matter to you, dear reader, but the vintage nose around here obsesses about these things...

 I'm less clear exactly when Cordon Noir was created- was it in the early 1900s or much closer to 1939 as several sources claim? And if the latter date is correct, then were Cordon Vert and Rouge re-released or promoted along side of the newer Noir? I think they must have been. I recall hearing these scents spoken of as a trio; also I have seen versions of all three with identical bottle/label design- which makes them look very much like a trio.

But it isn't so simple since I find evidence of Cordon Vert and Rouge 'eau de coty' both in print advertisement and/or actual bottles, dating through 1900s to the late 1930s. But it's tougher to find much about Cordon Noir- except for the fact that I missed an auction for a bottle of it this week- you can see the photo of the Cordon Noir by looking it up under completed listings on Ebay.fr. I just can't make a direct link to the image or grab the image to show you here. But the item number is 300470570038, just in case you too wanna check it out.

Never-minding Cordon Rouge and Noir, I embarked on this journey because I wanted to smell Cordon Vert. I can report to you that it is a perfectly handsome cologne loaded with juicy but not sweet mandarin, touches of woody-green petitgrain and a whisper of patchouli. It is quite bracing and refreshingly lovely of course. I learned from Mimifroufrou at the Perfume Shrine that Eau Fraîche (EF) was commissioned for Dior in 1955 and that it was modeled around no one other than Coty’s Cordon Vert (CV) eau de cologne.

I haven't even ever smelt vintage EF, only vintage Eau Savage (ES). I hope the ES is close enough since that's what I used for the side-by-side comparison. Overall the CV stands up to ES very nicely, indeed. On skin the ES seems lighter for a good while. In fact it burns a little at first because its citrus opening is packed with bright lemon - lime notes. Meanwhile, the Vert has an almost momentary dusty note before the orange begins to bloom and come on really strong. At that point the orange nearly overwhelms, to the point of having turpentine-like overtones. Pouring both into clean cotton handkerchiefs and inhaling repeatedly, I eventually found more depth and polish in the Savage although they are strikingly similar. The lighter brighter citrus of ES paired with herbaceous and grassy notes (Vetiver perhaps) adds a distinctive (and masculine) edge to Savage. The Cordon Vert is more linear, smelling over time of a very true Mandarin citrus- bright and yes nearly harsh but fruitier due to the orange and with just a kiss of jasmine and the barest underpinnings of wood and earth. There may be a bit of lavender in there as well. It avoids being overtly floral, sweet or spicy.

My bottle is probably circa 1930s or possibly 1940s - the label boasts the concentration is 10% oils, made exclusively of essences of fruits from Sicily and flowers from France. The cap is emerald green plastic and besides the embossed Made in France on the bottom, there is an additional black ink stamp on the bottom repeating "Made In France"- making me think it may have been imported to USA post WWI (Bottle labeled  SDA NY 1345.

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

images:
Cordon Rouge ad: cgi.ebay
Cordon Vert bottle: specialistauctions.com
Dior Savage ad internationalpostergallery.com

I'll be wearing vintage Diorissimo for Easter, how about you?

 

("Best Easter Wishes" 1908 Rotograph Co., NY from Shorpys)

(image: mes-parfums)

Oh, I'll be switching to Dior's breathtaking vintage Diorissimo parfum for later today and tomorrow as the Church begins to observe Easter with the Crucifixion of Christ. Diorissimo is Dior's iconic ode to lily of the valley (LOV), composed in 1956 by Edmond Roudnitska. My version of Diorissimo is a vintage 1970 parfum. It represents the pure scent of lilies combining lily of the valley and amaryllis lily with supporting notes that don't compliment but rather support the lilies. Lily of the valley scents, especially exemplified by Diorissimo, have become my scents of choice for observing Easter. After all, lilies are symbolic of death and ressurection; Lily of the valley is sometimes called Mary's Tears after the tears cried by Mary at seeing Jesus on the cross. There is also a tradition of lily of the valley only being allowed to grow on gravesites (although it can be very invasive and spread like a weed in its native areas). Perhaps this tradition is related to the story that lilies of the valley sprung up from the ground where the monk St. Leonard's blood was shed during his great battles with a terrible dragon  in 559 A.D. while that of the dragon's yieled only poisonous weeds. But most importantly, lily of the valley is associated with renewal; it is often called by the name Ladder to Heaven or Jacob's Tears. Lilies are mentioned in the verse from the Song of Solomon referring to the Lilies of the Field. And lily, particularly the sharper and greener lily of the valley, ushers in the true spirit of spring; it is especially exhilarating to wear at this time of year. So enjoy any and all preparations and plans you have for the holiday. I hope you enjoy celebrating it as much as I plan to...

(image of young girl with lily of the valley: the french factrice)

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

Original Ungaro Perfume

You're looking at one of my new perfume cabinets which figures into my Ungaro story.

The original Ungaro perfume came out in 1977. I'm not sure when it was discontinued but occasionally you can still find it from the usual on-line suspect (E***). The bottles are gem-like, deep sapphire blue glass with an elegant pattern, topped by brilliant emerald green glass stopper (for the EDP, like mine above). The EDP is dressed up with a ruby pink ribbon at its neck, the EDT has a green plastic cap and a gold metal band instead. Save the plastic cover over the neck of the glass stopper, the presentation is quite opulent. Suggestive of gemstones and finely hung fabrics, it is as rich as the scent it houses. Released in 1977, Ungaro is very much in the style of 1980s powerhouse scents- and like Ungaro's fashions of the same period, it was a few years ahead of its time. Also like his fashions, this first scent was a melange of all good things, marrying complex layers of ingredients like precious florals, spices and woods.

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The scent opens with aldehydes, rose, coriander, orange blossom, jasmine, neroli, bergamot and lemon, followed by middle notes of iris, turkish rose and lily-of-the-valley. The composition rests on a base of sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, patchouli, musk, vanilla, cedar and cardamom. An oriental fragrance, the notes promise something decadent and festive and Ungaro does not disappoint. Indeed, it is a sumptuous treat for those who like their poisons thick and sweet. In fact before I checked the dates, I thought Ungaro Women might have been a nod to Doir's iconic Poison. But considering the Ungaro preceded Dior's creation by over 20 years, perhaps it was the other way around. And although my initial perception was that the two scents were nearly identical, in smelling them side by side, I found that Poison actually does have a rather bitter heart, and so it is quite well named; Ungaro on the other hand is pure confectionery bliss. The spiciness is tamped down (no patchouli here!) and tightly wrapped up in a rosy Turkish delight, powdered with Iris sugar crystals, swimming in a bowl of vanilla-flecked musk cream. Maybe the bowl is made of wood, because it is classified as a woody oriental. But it's really a gourmand's scent, a fantasy of floralized nougat.

Ungaro is very sweet and it's longevity is stunning as well. The bottle you see in the top photo toppled over and an ounce or so of the EDP soaked into our new home's carpet right under the new perfum cabinet, so the whole area is embued with it. The rose, vanilla, musk and sandalwood have lasted longest and I keep catching whiffs of it as I walk by.

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.