The first really warm days of spring put me in the mood for flowers. People might describe me as somewhat of a girly-girl but that does not fit in with my fragrance style sense. I tend to love perfumes with prominent aromatic, spice, citrus, woods, incense, leather or musk. In other words, very few proper perfumes, especially the feminine ones with over-dose of floral notes, make it into my scent rotation. Carnation is my one true floral fascination although their spicy-coolness seems particularly suited to crisp fall/winter days. But as soon as the temperature goes up into the 80's for some inexplicable reason I find myself craving the king of all flower essences, jasmine. In anticipation of a warm week-end I gave into my craving and brought out two of my favorite vintage jasmine perfumes for a head-to-head sniff-a-thon.
The reining jasmine perfume has got to be Joy... Released by Jean Patou in 1930, it was at the time reputedly the world's costliest perfume to produce. The duet of sweet may-rose and lots and lots of the world's finest jasmine blossoms forms the heart of Joy perfume. For many, it is bliss inducing. The sweet-spicy floral melds into the sweet- spicy animal base to an almost perfect effect. While Joy smells divine there are a few notes in it that distract me. I sense an almost bruised quality of sweetness gone just past it's peak; or maybe there's just too much of too many good things in it for me to process all at once. In any case, after wearing Joy for a short period of time I determined that it did not really suite me. So I searched for another jasmine scent hoping to find my own perfect jasmine. (This photo is from the Lightyears Project collection, which I can't link to, given my lack of technical expertise, but you can google them for all sorts of perfume history. The photo shows how the black & red Joy bottle was inspired by an ancient Chinese snuff bottle.)
The first perfume I chose in my search for jasmine joy is ironically a close relative of Joy: Jean Patou's Amour Amour. Created as part of a trio of perfumes from Patou in 1925, it was said to be the one made for those with dark hair, while “Que sais-je”, a lighter fragrance was for blondes and “Adieu Sagesse” was intended for red-heads. In fact it is said that Amour-Amour was inspired by and made for the devestatingly vampish sultry brunette, Louise Brooks.
Amour-Amour offers a panoply of floral notes, according to Fragrantica it includes neroli, bergamot, wild strawberry and lemon on top; carnation, orris, lily, lilac, orris, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose, and narcissus in the middle; and finally musk, honey, civet, vetiver and heliotrope base. It sounds stunning, a perfect fantasy of truly scrumptuous jasmine in a bouquet of equally sumptous ingredients. It's easy to get carried away sometimes with how we think a perfume ought to smell. And such is the case for me with Amour Amour. It has jasmine for sure and it's even of the right type for me- fruity and sweet. But unfortunately, I find Amour Amour smells mostly strongly of narcissus and lemon. Surprisingly, it's more than a little soapy as well. Actually it reminds me most of the Dana perfume Platine, a perfume supposedly built for 'icy' blondes rather than dashing dark beauties. So if you are looking for another perfume suited to blondes, I suggest Amour Amour... Don't get me wrong, I treasure Amour, Amour. It may not be the perfect jasmine perfume that I crave but it is full of life and flowers and hints of sweet honey with bits of earthy roots and hints of animal things, rather like a real basket full of fresh spring flowers from the garden but it's being held next to a sink, full of fresh suds! Underneath the blossoms there is a hint of something cat-like (the civet), but on me, it's blotted out by the true soapy clean heart. A lovely perfume in it's own right but the jasmine never really blooms as lush as I wish it would. Everything is seamlessly blended but it's not the jasmine ideal I'm seeking today.
Note about this photo: as you can see, on the black velvet these bottles look terribly streaky and every little trace dust smudge looks like a big dirty streak, despite light pre-cleaning. I say light because I've had some tragic accidents with perfume bottles due to too vigorous handling or cleaning attempts. Edit: even so, I thought I'd give these bottles a good re-cleaning after seeing the photo, but on my way back from cleaning the Amour Amour bottle, I tripped and ended up loosing about half of the contents onto my computer chair mat- not even the carpet or wood floors but the crappy old plastic mat got christined with this rare juice!! So learn from my mistakes! Don't over-handle your bottles. Better fuller with a little honorable grime, than to have them sparkling clean and possibly broken or empty...
But here's the real reason Amour Amour can't get a fair wearing out of me; I've found Nuits Folles by Mori of Paris, circa 1930. Nuits Folles or "Crazy Nights" as the French translates, opens with a honey sweetened jasmine that starts out strong and never quits. From the first opening of strains of evening star flowers at dusk to the spicy heavy scent of honey made from not only jasmine, but pinks and geramiums, too; to the ultra-realistic strawberry fruit note that predominates throughout hours of wearing. Nuits Folles really is the best strawberry note I've found in a perfume, which is not an easy note to elevate to greatness but here it is, offering perfectly juicy redness to the scent. This is a happy and light-hearted scent, just the sort you'd wear to a gay and flirty garden party in the country, that might last for... days. A perfume that laughs first and never asks questions, the finish is lightly animalic and waxy with spicy aromatic notes of pollen sweet honey. In the photo you can see Nuits Folles in the taller bottle with the ball top stopper, I believe it is a pure parfum.
I can't find anything about the extinct Mori perfume company however I have scant information on early French perfume houses. Even the word itself is shrouded in mystery. It has a Slavic meaning associated with the sea- perhaps an island related name? The latin root is 'morior'- to die or wither away... which might describe anything, including that which is made from flowers. While their story may remain a mystery to me, there has to be more to the Mori story... perhaps there are more Mori bottles filled with exotic treasures sitting out there waiting to be discovered? With such an audacious perfume as Nuits Folles, someone must have noticed Mori before and I feel certain that more is known of this house. Given the quality and longevity of Nuit Folles, the other Mori perfumes must have been outstanding.
If anyone has any stories to share about Mori parfums, I wish they'd tell. Since there is maybe only 10 mls of Nuits Folles, it will be gone too soon. Still I intend to wear it- no regrets, no hoarding or saving it. Nor will I fantasize about finding any more of it! Instead I'll focus on being happy to have found a perfect jasmine for this time... after all, another completely new and unexpected fragrant discovery is waiting to delight and amaze me. And besides the room is too full of vapors from the Amour-Amour bottle, making it too hard to think about any more jasmine perfume...
The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives...
