Le FEU D'Issey

Just a short post today- I'm wearing Le Feu D'Issey after wearing Aimez-Moi for Thanksgiving and most of Black Friday. The anise and rose notes shared by both bridges the two scents beautifully. But the thing that drew me to this 1998 Issey Miyake release was the bottle. A solid Lucite globe of reddish orange, it reminds me of a Christmas tree ornament. The firey orb also reminds me of the sun setting over the Pacific ocean on a cool fall evening. But despite the sun metaphor, Le Feu resonates cold to me- it's a frosty solar scent, if that makes sense. The heart of Le Feu is Bulgarian Rose and fresh Coriander, which creates a "modern contrast of energy and sensuality." Le Feu is an easy wearing, casual perfume, although it has a quirky, almost medicinal opening which fades quickly to reveal woody rose facets, smoothed over with a subtle milky-salty caramel note. Although it was created in 1998 and has been discontinued, Le Feu is incredibly well blended and perfectly balanced. It is one of the few perfumes I would describe as futuristic (even today, it remains so). Jacques Cavallier created Le Feu and he has authored a number of other perfumes that I've owned and admired including YSL's Cinema and Nu, Jean Paul Galtier's Women, Alexander McQueen's Kingdom, Stella by Stella McCartney, and Givenchy's Hot Couture. Unfortunately for those who haven't smelt it, Le Feu is something of a cult scent, and it commands ridiculously inflated prices on EBay. Sadly I haven't been able to find a substitute but Clarins' Eau Dynamisante may come close (I don't have any on hand to compare to it directly). So, what rare vintage, discontinued or throw-back scents have you been wearing this holiday?

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

Removing Frozen or Stuck Perfume Stoppers

Recently Melissa asked me how can you remove a stuck stopper from a perfume bottle. Hopefully I can help out since I've tried quite a few methods, so let's run down the list.

When I first encountered stuck stoppers, I was told to try ice or cooling the bottle. I guess the thought is that the glass will retract and things should loosen up a bit. Well, cooling methods haven't worked for me. Running a bottle under warm water may work- if the lid is a threaded plastic or metal type and dried perfume residue is causing the lid to remain stuck-tight. Then it's just a matter of heating up the metal or plastic and twisting it off. The water might damage any paper label that's there, so keep a towel handy.

But the real challenge occurs when you run across a ground glass stopper that has become stuck or frozen in the neck of the bottle. I've even cut the cord on a sealed bottle only to find the stopper is frozen in place. So what to do? If you can access enough of the underside of the stopper, which is not always easy, old Chanel pamphlets (which used to come tucked into the perfume bottle box), advised you to tap evenly all around the stopper while applying gentle pressure until it comes unstuck. Good luck with this method! It probably works but I found it's difficult to pull off- you need some special kind of tool small and weighty enough to tap on such a small area and it requires major-league dexterity. The method perfected by my husband, which seems to work best, requires two identical pry tools- try two butter knife blades or two identical pocketknife blades. He lines the bottle up (I hold it) and works the two blade edges along opposite sides of the bottle (that's 180 degrees apart) nestling the edge of the blade right at the stopper and neck junction. He does it so the handles of each knife are on opposite sides of the bottle. Then he quickly, firmly, evenly pushes up on one knife handle while simultaneously pushing down on the other. The resultant force pops the stopper off the bottle, usually on the first try. But he isn't shy or hesitant about the movement- I think you might just chip pr break off the stopper top if you aren't smooth and decisive. I might recommend wrapping the top of the stopper or taping it up first if you do try this, so the top isn't damaged as it flies off the bottle and lands on the floor. Another technique I've used, for smaller bottles with round stoppers (like a small bottle of Poison perfume), is to wrap the stopper top in soft cloth, grasp it with a small pliers and gently turn it off. This method is easy, so you might want to give it a try first but don't use too much pressure or you will snap the stopper off at the neck for sure. Good luck but remember, no matter which method you try- you do run the risk of chipping, cracking or worse yet, breaking off the stopper top. Below you see the tragic result of an attempted removal gone wrong. That being said, the two knife method has never damaged a bottle of mine.

And it's always worked. Except with one particularly old, square-shaped stopper on an older bottle (1800s) with no clearance between the stopper and the bottle (a short neck). In that case, I tried everything that I've told you about here and more but nothing worked. I held onto that bottle for quite a while, trying to decide what to do about it. I didn't want to ruin the bottle- it was so old. But the juice inside finally won over. I really wanted to smell it! So I went for the most extreme method I know- drilling and emptying. The procedure was achieved using a small masonry drill bit called a glass bit, that bores a round hole into glass. You need to build up a coffer damn on the glass so you can keep a puddle of lubricating fluid to cool and help the bit get through. To do it, make a ring of silicone putty, stick it to the glass area around where you'll drill into the glass. Fill the ring with a few drops of light machine oil, like 3-in-1, or another suitable fluid before you start. I held the bottle in place with more silicone putty. It went beautifully; I was able to drill through without any contamination by going slow, and I kept an absorbent towel nearby to soak away the oil as I got down to the last layers of glass. Then, I decanted the contents directly from the hole, plugged it up and I was able to display the 99% intact bottle. Well, I hope this helps at least one of you get into that bottle of perfume you've been hanging on to with the stuck stopper. Let me know how you do!

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

Is it Safe to Wear Old Perfume?

If you read down to the comments on my Chypre post, you will see a couple of my readers have asked some very good questions about vintage perfumes. So good, in fact, that I've decided to respond to those questions here in a separate post so more of you can share in the answers. Now for the disclaimer- I'm just sharing my own experiences and opinions; I do not recommend that anyone else should necessarily follow me! Use your own common sense and practice safety at all times.

OK, so let's get down to business. First, Alessandra asked about the safety of wearing vintage perfumes. The short answer is yes, it is safe to wear vintage perfumes.

Now for the long answer: it is safe, but only in as much as it is safe to wear any perfume. Skin can definitely become irritated by many different perfumes and other scented products, like soaps and creams, but that is regardless of the age of the product. I know that my skin can become irritated by a few perfumes, but they tend to be carnation-spicy scents (eugenol), chypres (oakmoss) and certain musk oils. The worst effects I've experienced amount to some slight burning sensations and in more extreme reactions, transient redness of the skin in the area where I applied. I've had problems when those scents are applied right after a shower or bath or in lavish amounts. I find the perfume in extrait or oil form can be especially problematic probably because the scent molecules are more concentrated in those formulas. I avoid applying over large areas, soft areas, untanned areas or along the insides of skin folds, or anywhere skin is often rubbed. But if one was actually to become allergic or chemically sensitive to a particular scent molecule or any scented product, old or new, the reactions could be quite severe. But I stress to you that for me it does not matter whether the product is old or new, just the particular ingredient.
On a tangentially related subject, I have read on many blogs the myth that perfumes expire quickly and must be discarded after a certain age. Well, I think that is just pure myth. Scents, especially fine scents, do change over time, just as fine wine or liquors change as they age. Certain scent molecules are more prominent in younger formulas, lending a boldness or brightness, while other notes are created and accumulate as things stew in their own juices. As some notes fade others emerge or become uncovered adding depth to the formula. So the character and color of a juice usually changes as it matures and ages.

As an industrial perfumer or any modern-day scent brander I can see where one would aim to capture a particular scent and set the scent profile in stone. In those cases, the formula might be designed specifically to be stable and consistent over time and from bottle to bottle as possible. It's fine for my Gain or Downey fabric softener but I reject that type of thinking in fine perfumery! I tend to think more like a vintner or gardener. You have to approach each harvest, each batch and each bottle of scent as it's own thing. You may know you prefer a certain type of wine or variety of flowers, but you probably also recognize that sometimes the scent or taste quality of these things are exceptional but sometimes, they are just OK. I say Carpe Diem provided you don't have to pay a premium for the bottle. The bottle or historical import of a presentation tends to impart most of the value in cases where vintage perfume bottles command premium prices. I am not a bottle collector, so I avoid those deals. But if you can manage to find a second hand bottle of perfume offered at a reasonable price, consider giving it a try. Because in the end, I've found that vintage perfume is a lot like life; things change, but mostly in predictable and agreeable ways.

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

Perfume Musings (of an ex-smoker)

I'm not sure I've ever said it or even thought about it much but I used to be a smoker and I believe that's where my fascination with perfume began. I may have lacked a true appreciation for the dangers of that bad habit but I certainly realized the reek of smoke clinging to one's clothes, hair and hands was not pretty. I recall selecting my signature scents, partially on their ability to blend in with and mask the residue of my cigarettes. And so I leaned naturally towards sharp greens, smoky leathers and spicy orientals from early on. Those types of perfumes seemed best suited to masking fumes and after repeated wearings they became my preference. While my love of proper perfumes waned and laid dormant for a long time after I quit smoking, I continued to have a keen interest in incense and the head-shop variety of scented oils. Now it's been some time since my interest (being polite) in perfume has been rekindled but recently I found a nifty little bottle of Bandit parfum, that famous leather scent by Robert Piguet. This is the vintage version, not the horrifying newer release (which I keep, unopened and wrapped in it's cellophane- as a punishment, on my lower shelf). The tarry, almost skunky-tart green leather of the original version is mouth-watering. The scent memory is pure bliss as well: my smoker's hands redolent of comfortably roasted tobacco, my back warmed by the autumn sun, strolling through the Tenderloin, with a group of junky musician friends, on our way to a friend's flat. No bills and no cares- and an innocent ignorance of everything to come, the vigor of youth stinging in my blood. Those were the days, lol.

But Bandit was there with me, covering up every trace of indiscretion and adding a certain flare, an unexpected dash of style to my low-brow ways. So now of course Bandit is an old friend. It understands me and I understand it. I discovered other soul-sisters in the guise of scents, specters and members of my perfume-spirit family, scents that took me back to down-home and my soul's roots. At one time there was Halston Couture (never just Halston, only the Couture!) which was the first perfume I actually inducted into the Vintage Vault. I went into absolute panic mode when that one was discontinued; it was before the days of the internet and trying to locate a bottle of HC was a truly monumental project. Chanel's Cuir de Russie and Opium joined the select group, and most of my old-school chypres now belong as well. These are the scents I reach for first when I want to feel wise and witty and warm but no one seems to get it (or me). I guess this is more a perfume reminisce and a chance for me to sing the praises of the heavy perfumes, those strange brews that were authored for a purpose even it was just to challenge, whose makers weren't afraid to use potent ingredients in generous proportions, and who succeeded in creating masterpieces capable of not only masking the repellent odours that haunt our very existence, but also seducing us with the very same breath.

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

True Chypre Perfume (Vrai Chypre)

Today I dove into a real find- Vrai Chypre from Frédéric Geille. I've been wishing lately for an old chypre, a new one to add to my collection. One of truest of grails and just the type of plunder to see one through even the roughest of patches in one's pursuit of scented nirvana.... especially the pursuit of a vintage scented nirvana. And Geille A Paris is perfect for me- a really obscure name, circa 1930-40s. There is another Geille perfume, Cœur Caucasien or Cuir Caucasien from 1943, also by Frédéric Geille, pictured on the Museu del perfum site.

Vrai's bottle strikes me as a release rfom an earlier date. The tightly wrapped cord of silk under tarnished metal- silver washed copper perhaps- had essentially rotted and clotted around the sealed bottle. After sawing through the cord, I found the stopper was stuck... and a single chip along the outer edge of the stopper, as if someone previously had attempted to prize it loose with a pliers sometime earlier. But my husband has gotten pretty good at popping stuck stoppers off. So yeah, it yielded without any further damage to the bottle or lid, which is always a nice thing.

I love the name of this perfume as well, it translates to something like "True Chypre". We're always looking for a real chypre, aren't we? Coty did not originate the Chypre but I like to think he codified Chypre into mythological status. A large, sealed bottle of late 1920s Coty Chypre is still the centerpiece of my entire vintage collection, hundreds of bottles later. Magically, it was the second original period Coty Chypre I've came across. my husband actually brought that first bottle home to me. I found it sitting unceremoniously on the coffee table one frosty autumn morning, surrounded by silver coins, pocket knives and fishing lures... glittering like a precious crown jewel . The bottle was open and I took to wearing it just long enough before letting it go on to another collector, to become thoroughly enslaved to that authentic, old school style of chypre. Crepe de chine, vintage Femme and several other "no name" chypres have followed, plus the more accessible classic 'modern' chypres (Ysatis, Paloma Picasso et al.) But there's nothing like the real thing, baby.

I don't want to bore you to tears but especially if you don't already know how older chypres smell, you might like hear about the notes. Vrai is a leathery floral chypre. Chypre is a formula built around earthy patchouli and loamy, smooth oakmoss plus labdanum. Labdanum is a richly fragrant lichen-like substance that was first combed from the hair of goats who picked it up grazing on the Mediterranean rock-rose shrub. The patchouli is refined and sublime without any of the spikey, sinus penetrating fumes. This base is rounded out by the classic harmony of citrus against a floral. The rose begins dusty pale; the bergamot was shy at first but it bloomed thanks to a muggy evening. The leather has a savory/creamy tang similar to goat's milk and under it all is a surprisingly familiar musky finish. I just wish I could share it with a wider audience.

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

Elizabeth Arden Blue Grass

Taking advantage of every day this week, I stopped by one of my favorite haunts and picked up a bottle of Elizabeth Arden's famous and much maligned perfume Blue Grass. Created sometimes around 1934 or 1936, the perfumer is George Fuchs (of Fragonard). Blue Grass was created in order to celebrate the scent of the grassy pasture fields where Arden bred her famous Thoroughbreds. To backtrack only a bit, Florence Graham (EA's given name) is somewhat a woman after my own heart. Short of stature- barely 5 feet tall, and fond of pink in her real life unlike the more famous red she used so prominently in her salons, she sought always to appear as youthful as possible, eschewing gray hair for a reliable honey blonde and dressing in sometimes outrageously girlish get-ups whenever she could construct an excuse to do so. I find it especially endearing that she insisted her beauty products be lavished on her horses.

Needless to say EA fascinates me, especially in regards to her well known rivalry with another hero of mine, the incomparable Helena Rubinstein. But today I am interested only in setting the record straight on Blue Grass. The bottle I found is not a long lost vintage treasure- I have run across those, too, but for the most part, the vintage BG I've found hasn't aged well, unlike our dear EA... Most examples I've come across are compressed, sour and smell terribly off. The older powder and occasionally the scented bath gel versions I find seem to hold up much better. But this isn't a problem because contrary to other online commenters, I do not find the newer version of BG lacking at all. According to the bottle I have, it is made in France and bottled through EA London.

And how does it smell? Well to me, it has exactly the smell I would hope for- cool and green, sublimely subtle and finishing off with a powdery velvet-ness similar to the feel of horse nuzzling your palm. To analyze it more in depth, I will say the lavender and jasmine are especially prominent on it's opening and these have been woven together in an herbal, juicy fruity and crisp green combination that seems to be so, so difficult to get just right in a perfume. I attribute it's true grassy character to a sweet (versus smokey) vetiver, backed up by a touch of cedar. The cooling powdery feel lingers throughout, I believe because the lavender matches perfectly to the vetiver and cedar, although none of these notes is allowed to come out too fully. All of it is held in check by a judicious blend of florals, so that the aforementioned jasmine, along with lily of the valley, rose and carnation do not play heavy roles, either. There is a definite citrus open thanks to neroli, bergamot boosted by geranium, aldehydes and orange blossom. One source adds laurel to the list of notes and I'm included to agree to it, playing wonderfully well with the cool herbal notes of lavender and sweet grass.

This scent improves with time although I find it wearable from the first. While it is cleaner than many scents I love, to my nose it has nothing in common with the new breed of clean. Instead, I can see it as a child of the 70's fitting in with the other soft green scents that dominated during that time (and that seem now impossible). Many people are ansmotic to some smells, perhaps this somehow plays in reverse as well. Possibly I can smell something most people miss in this newer formulation, or I miss something they smell, because it still smells classically balanced and well made. Perhaps that is what leads me into an easy love of a scent that so many decry? There really isn't any telling, without doing a live in person group sniffathon, which given my geographic location and schedule, is unlikely to happen anytime soon. Actually, it matters not because I'm going to take it just as it comes and wear my Blue Grass with enthusiasm.

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

Givenchy Organza and Chanel 22

It's been quite a while since I've had time or desire to post on anything. My animus towards vintage perfumes hasn't really diminished; my time and energy has just been focused in other directions. I don't intend to hold myself silent for the entire duration of this MEd program, but there might not be much in the way of regular posting until next summer, except during holidays. It's Fall Break this week and even so we've been living on the air conditioner until a sudden and welcomed cool down today.

Today I had a sudden craving for vintage Chanel No. 22- perfume. It's a favorite of mine although usually I just scrimp and wear the vintage 1970's EDT spray version. If you know it, you'll know I'm not really scrimping. One spray takes it as far as you'd want to go, which even in this heat is from morning to overnight and into the shower the next morning. But after wearing it a couple of times recently, today I decided I'd wear a little of the actual vintage parfum instead. Off I went in search of the coffret in which it sits along with it's siblings: Bois De Iles, Cuir De Russie and No 5. I removed the dainty oval crystal stopper and dabbed; as it settled in, the old magic returned. In this little vial the incense and vanilla of Madame Coco's true genius of a numbered fragrance have happily married the aldehydes have quieted down a bit. And it strikes me that there is something very similar between this Chanel creation and Givenchy's original Organza.

You see, I've been smelling Organza a lot lately. We've just purchased an older home in the country- the sort I've always imagined, by the way, but the point is that we bought it from a lovely lady from Spain, named Silvia. Now Silvia reminds me of what a world war II movie star would look like today, tottering on tiny high heels, surrounded by a cloud of blonde hair, long eyelashes and a generally regal bearing. From the first moment I met her, I thought she smelled really wonderful... very elegant and refined but maybe with a little hint of bombshell, too.

Generally I'm a little shy to ask new people about perfumes, but I really wanted to know what she was wearing. It was just like when you catch just a little bit of a melody when you're not really expecting it-suddenly I couldn't place a familiar scent. So finally I asked her what she was wearing and she replied, "Oh, something my husband bought for me; it's all I ever wear... it's by Givenchy... Organza, I think." But now I realize when she said it, I was expecting her to tell me it was No 22! Maybe other people have noticed the resemblance but I never did before. I even went home and discovered it's the sandalwood. I think. Sandalwood isn't something that hits you over the head with No 22 but over time I realize it's the thing that draws my nose back into the coat or scarf after I've put away after wearing it... Now I have another sleath sandal perfume to add in my arsenal, cloaked in a fine, but rich harmony of orientalized florals, just the way I tend to like them!

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

Perfume, this summer's latest crop...

Despite the lack of frequent posts this summer and my complaints to the contrary, there has been abundant spoil lately. Pictured on the tray, from left to right: 1962 OCCUR! by Avon, Secret d' Suzanne by Suzanne, Casaque by Jean d'Albret, Directoire by Charles of Ritz and Dorothy Gray's White Lilac. Many a scalding day has wiled away this season, whilst I've retreated into cool shadowy chambers to perfume the air around me and contemplate the spirits held within these bottles. I wouldn't want to restrain your imaginings of any of the perfumes, as each one deserves it's own spotlight. Casaque is possibly the best known of the set, of course after Avon's Occur!, which is one of Avon's best selling scents ever and some say Avon's last great scent. Reviews will follow along shortly for these, even if short- and yes, I've finally mailed off my last winner's package! So, how is your summer hunt for vintage treasure going?

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

CIRO Perfumes: New Horizons

Today's feature comes from one of the classic yet lesser known perfume lines, Parfums Ciro; they featured unusual combinations, superior substances and memorable presentations. In their time, Ciro perfumes were considered a cut above the drugstore variety scents they competed against. Somewhat avaunt guard, what we might label 'niche' today; yet in a crowded field, their offerings were consistently well-received. In 1955, fragrances by Parfums Ciro were the focal point of Jay Thorpe's grand fashion pagent at the Palza Hotel. The show featured a trio of Jay Thorpe Originals, designer dresses inspired by and named after three of Ciro's most popular perfumes: Danger, Reflections and Surrender. The 'Ciro Blackamoor' wandered through the crowd, dressed in oriental finery, carrying perfumes on a silken pillow. The show provided a spectacular showcase for the perfumes and the promotional savvy of the man behind Parfums Ciro.

Ciro was the creation of one J.S. Wiedhopf. As a young man, Wiedhopf worked for the Alfred H. Smith Company, who were the only stateside importers of Djerkiss perfume. After he learned the business and perhaps sensing there were more lucrative opportunities, Wiedhopf struck out on his own. In 1921 he started his own business, Guy T Gibson Inc. There he began to import the exclusive Parisian brand Parfums Caron, which he sold to American customers in his New York retail shop. Soon Wiedhopf began offering perfumes under his own label, although the scents were actually being manufactured and bottled by Gamilla in France. In 1936, Wiedhopf renamed Guy T Gibson as Parfums Ciro. As the company prospered, Wiedkopf was able to reinvest in his product. He spared no expense enhancing Ciro perfumes by securing the best packaging and bottle designers of the time, notably Baccarat. The advertising images for Ciro were no exception to the overall quality that came to embody the brand.


Under Wiedhopf's creative direction Ciro continued to flourish throughout the war years and into the 1950s. During this time, Wiedhopf also worked to establish himself as an expert in the area of perfumes. He helped found the institution known as the Fragrance Foundation and in 1949 he was elected as it's first president. He also positioned himself as a key representative of the perfume industry by serving on the advisory committee of the War Production Board during World War II. Wiedhopf was also a pioneer in the area of research. He worked with chemists to develop new fragrance formats such as long lasting powder perfumes and conducted early market research to analyze consumer habits. Despite his pioneering efforts and many successes, he retired in 1955 and went to work as the president of Roure-Dupont Chemical, where he remained until 1963.

Ciro changed hands and in 1957 Ciro's new president, Donald L. Bryant, announced that the company was moving back to France. After the move overseas, there were fewer new releases and in 1961 Ciro released the last of their perfumes. The catalog of Parfums Ciro (1923 - 1961) includes: Ambre de Jadis and Doux Jasmin, Bouquet Antique, Maskee, Mirelevres, and Le Chypre du Nil, were all released in the early 1920s. L'Heure Romantique (1930) was followed by the super-successful scent Surrender, released in 1932.

Then another hit, Reflexions in 1933 followed by Camelia de Maroc in 1936. Danger, very popular at the time, a sweet but not-too-sweet oriental, and Trois Notes de Ciro were both released in 1938, New Horizons was released in 1941. After a ten year break came Acclaim in 1951, followed by One On The House in 1952. 'Esscent' was created by Ciro in the 1950s as a near-perfume strength cologne-like product, I believe it's water-based but with the strength of a good edt/edp. Described as a "new catagory of fragrance" Ciro's top sellers- Danger, New Horizons, Reflections and Surrender were all offered in the Esscent formulation. Ciro released the uber-spicy Richochet which was similar to EL's Youth Dew in 1955. Batiste and Bouffante were released in 1957, followed by Little Danger in 1958, Oh La La in 1959 and finally in 1961, Panorama and Tete a Tete.



Chevalier de la Nuit (Knight of the Night) deserves special mention because of it's stunning and highly prized presentation with a figural bottle depicting a knight in shining armor. The bottle came in various color combinations with an extravagant stopper including a feather-topped headdress.

But before you buy one of these, beware! Copies of the bottle have been forged and are being sold as originals for hundreds of dollars. I'm not sure whether you can see enough of the details from the photos on your monitors but there are a number of subtle differences between the genuine examples and the dupe.

In 1941 New Horizons was released with the tag line: "The perfume that carries you on and on..." New Horizons was a feminine release. The bottle design used iconic imagery: an eagle shaped stopper, and the sweeping, curved line of the bottle suggested a horizon.

The presentation seemed to say the woman who wears the perfume is free to explore new heights and view new horizons. I am lucky to have procured both a sealed parfum and a larger sealed bottle of the 'esscent' version of New Horizons.

I opened the parfum first and wore it several times before exploring the Esscent. When I finally tried the esscent, I recognized the fragrance immediately but it does not fully live up to the perfume version. It isn't a surprise, for those of us who've learned that very often, there are striking differences between the various formulations of most perfumes. I happen to prefer the parfum in this case but the esscent is extremely adequate, especially when atomized. New Horizons is best represented by its tag line- indeed, it carries you on and on... lifting and bolstering you as you float along an endless air-stream of flowers, flowers, and more flowers.

This bottle shows another unique bottle style of New Horizons- with the puffy, fluffy pink clouds, of a floral explosion, I think it fits the perfume better than the eagle bottle. The perfume has the soaring quality of Caron's Bellodgia... although it's not a soliflore, but rather a mixed floral with a very sweet and fresh quality. The freshness isn't represented by anything clean or marine, it's comes via a touch of pure aldehydes, just enough to clarify and amplify the composition, lifting the honeyed and deliciously polleny flowers into the air. Turkish Rose, jasmine, lily of the valley, carnation, violet and iris rush to greet the nose. There is a hint of dark green crushed leaves, but just barely, among the petals. The dancing parade of flowers circles on and on, finally ebbing into a doughy, creamy, soapy floral base- nothing heavy, just a sweet floral vapor trail that clings for a surprisingly long time. The suggestion of flight and the eagle image lead me to expect New Horizons to be more masculine, perhaps with some leather in it, similar to Caron's flight-themed En Avion. But this is a full-on, flower-power scent. If the name meant anything at all, perhaps it was to encourage the woman who would wear it, to soar high, to rise above, and to look always and only toward the new horizon, with the anticipation and promise of lush abundance to come.

New Horizons is a perfume I'll dab on and forget about, then smell later on, and wonder what on earth smells so good. If you're interested in the scent, try to find a smaller sealed parfum, like I did. It seems to keep rather well. The fascinating history behind this brand, the trailblazing practices of its founder, along with the beauty and quality of the products, makes Ciro perfumes memorable. The entire line is a treat to visit in retrospect, everything should be considered desirable. Luckily, there are still a number of Ciro perfumes available on the second hand and collector market, so if you are looking to build a good vintage collection of American fragrances especially, you can still find many excellent examples, in a range of price points. Highly Recommended.

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

Voodoo, the perfume: Revisited

To be honest, I tend to wear modern fragrances more often than vintage. But since I don't care too much for decants, if I'm buying something contemporary it's going to be full bottle purchase. That being the case, I try to only buy things that I think are really special. More and more now, I want to limit myself to perfumes that have a certain level of quality and a beautiful presentation that I believe is going to stand out even years from now.

(Mine says Patchouli on the side.) But I'm not wealthy so when I buy something like this, I'm expecting it will keep well enough that I'm going to be able to use it for years and then pass along whatever I don't use up to my niece. Perfume isn't cake, after all. Provided that it is genuinely a fine and well-crafted product, why shouldn't a perfume remain relatively stable for a [really, really] long time? Perfumes are more similar to honey or wine than other, more perishable cosmetics and food stuffs. I have a number of 50 to 70 year old fragrances that seem to be holding up quite well although I do notice the best ones tend to be those that were more costly, originally. But if the perfumes of today are going to be made of disposable ingredients without quality carriers so they begin to deteriorate even after only a year or two then perfume collecting as we know it is all but a thing of the past.

Despite these mildly torturous thoughts and my supposedly high standards in perfumery, I remain a complete and total sucker for (almost) anything vintage! Even though I say I'm only going to buy things that I like, or that smell good on me (or at least, to me), all too often I give in and end up lugging home another box full of half-offs and embarrassingly grimy containers of cloudy oil residues and worse... and I've done it too many times to count! But I swear to you that from now on, no matter what I say, that I'm not going to buy even one more miniature bottles-- don't even ask. I mean, you have to draw the line somewhere and if I don't draw it at this point, you might as well look forward to seeing me on an upcoming episode of Obsessed!

And I still have scores of scents I've barely touched just sitting in the vault waiting for me. But despite my overstock piles, I'm suffering from an odd sort of ennui this summer. I've noticed just lately that it's become much harder to find new stuff, vintage-wise, to buy. This hasn't really ever been a problem before so I'm wondering if the recent down-turn has trickled down into the very farthest corners of even our second hand economy already? I don't know exactly what the cause is but hopefully it's only a matter of time before things start to turn up again. So I've been thinking lately about the slightly mundane things, like the scents that I actually wear in my everyday life but usually take for granted...

And since things are slow around here I've come up a little perfume game and of course there will be a prize for the winner. The photograph above contains an important clue as to the identity of a certain 'mystery perfume' that I've been wearing quite often lately. I won't say more about it than that, so this is going to be challenging enough that I may never have to make good on the prize I'm offering. So Good Luck! The first person who guesses the mystery scent correctly will receive a set of samples of some of the vintage scents I've reviewed here, the most prized of which will be a 1 ml sample of another favorite that I've been wearing again, lately- Dana's super rare-and-deserves-to-be-legendary vintage VuDu (Voodoo) parfum. There's only one caveat: I will post the identity of the mystery perfume in one week's time. At that point, the contest will expire, winner or no.

Now you might recall I did an earlier review of Vudu here on TVPV and I have to confess, I'm really loving this perfume. That it stacks up to anything modern, given it's age and our general changing tastes in perfume styles, I think is quiet amazing. On wearing Vudu again, there is an incense-y quality that I didn't focus on so much before, which positively hums next to the turgid, vulcanized tuberose that forms the heart of Vudu. I still consider this to be one of my most 'cherry' perfumes but it's an accent, really. The top notes seem more ordinary to me now as well- just some nice candied citrus paired with a cooling kiss of menthol from those narcotic whites, rather than the more adventurous herbs (basil, thyme??) I'd smelt so keenly before. I still get that odd human hair note, or is it more musty-mildewy now? The chypre base, a mossy, slightly powdery-resinous delight, still forms a perfect cradle, tenderly cupping and swirling all of those other scent notes into a coherent composition. Sometimes I write about a perfume like this one hoping to jar someone's memory or perhaps draw a few more examples of the fragrance out of the woodwork. And some times it even works out. But as for Voodoo, no. Apparently it has dropped away into a sad oblivion of nearly total extinction. Why? Was it just another fruity chypre in the end, and all too ordinary? Or maybe something closer to the opposite is closer to the truth... perhaps it was too extraordinary, too different? In fact, it seems that Voodoo was the most expensive of Dana's offerings stateside at the time of its USA release and if by chance it was brought back today I believe it would receive rave reviews.

CONTEST NOTE: Because I'd like someone to possibly win this contest: please read comments for an important clue, to which I'll add the initials C.J.

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

Charles Blair Perfume

You can't read the text here, but it's my own photo of a copy of an old 1965 advertisement from the Vista, California newspaper. That's not too far from where I sit now, come to think of it. Since you don't have the eyes of an eagle, here is a close up of some of the ad below-

Charles Blair Parfum, or Charles Blair Perfume, as we would say here, is the obscure vintage scent pictured between the Lanvin and the Chanel. Being a largely unknown scent, it would not necessarily be worth mentioning here were not for its unique quality. Made available in America for the first time in 1962, it was said to be an older French perfume formula, an exotic blend of woodsy and mossy notes as well as Eastern Indian sandalwood. Supposedly rediscovered by American tourists in Europe twenty years later, it was first made in 1934 or 1935. According to this ad, Charles Blair was priced on par with Lanvin and Chanel perfumes, making it a little more costly than Faberge, Coty, D'Orsay and Corday, while Dana's Tabu was even cheaper- the true bargin of the bunch, it sold for only $1.50. And below you see the humble, even ugly, little miniature bottle that introduced me to how this creation of Charles Blair smells:

Fortunately, the contents are superior to the packaging. The label of yellowed cream with gray over the top, shows the ravages of time. So much so is it aged that I question whether this is the 1962 version, or possibly the rumoured earlier 1930s one... In fact, in one small photo I found, the 1965 bottle of Charles Blair perfume featured a black and red label, while this little bottle has this possibly older style. I can't say for sure if this is the older or newer version of Charles Blair Parfum.

But either way, the scent in this little bottle has completely captivated me. Soft and creamy on the one hand, cool and mentholated on the other, and beneath, there is a warm bread note, yeasty but sweet, as if a fresh loaf had been drizzled with honey and dipped in stewed stone-fruits. It is unusual to my nose, yet as familiar as the face of an old friend. Immediately I associated this perfume with the classic scent of:

Yes, Charles Blair reminds me of that classic face cleansing cream, Noxema. And whether you look back with nostalgia on Rebecca Gayheart, or if you perhaps share my particular memory of a young and lovely young brunette Meredith Baxter, there's no forgetting the smell of the slightly hard, then unexpectedly melty white goop that said it washed away the dirt and grime while preserving the face's natural oils, leaving your complexion tingling and scented with something suggesting a muscle balm. I'm not sure why this scent feels so comforting but it does. I often find bread-y notes extremely appealing in perfumes and there is no exception here. The mentholated aura comes from salicyclates, I feel fairly certain. But as to which flowers carry such a strong dose of them, I'm not sure- tuberose is often named but I want to volunteer Heliotrope... as the menthol smells somewhat of black cherry cough drops as well. But at least I know what I'm smelling rests on a base of rich sandalwood.

However, the dry down is not like that of any sandalwood I might smell today; it has none of the tangy citrusy oud notes of Super Iso E that are so popular and loud, and used so often in depicting wood notes in perfumes of today.. . instead the wood here is a soft balsamic caress that cradles the minty mellow and sweet liquor hidden inside of Charles Blair. It reminds me of another, much more famous wood perfume, one that is often said to have a delectable gingerbread note... Of course I am referring to Chanel's classic woody feminine Bois Des Iles, another sandalwood scent that veers towards gourmand, which Charles Blair is well in keeping with. If you are lucky enough to spot a bottle of Charles Blair and you like exotic wood scents, give it a try; I think you will be well pleased.

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

Lost Perfumes: FAUN by Ravel

Could this be the start of a 'Lost Perfumes' series? Faun is one of the first perfumes I added to my vintage perfume collection but it's been around for so long that I'd sort of forgotten and neglected it. If you saw my post from last week, you may recall I posted a photo of the bottle. It resembles a 1945-1950 era Chanel bottle- spare and squared in shape with a plain black cap. In the hand, it somehow feels cheaper than Chanel's version. The label is slightly off, both in the cut and lettering... Perhaps the packaging had something to do with why I wasn't really drawn to try what was inside, at least initially. But recently I decided to take a closer look at this unknown mid-20th century creation.
A little preliminary research lead me to discover that the details about Ravel and it's perfumes have mostly been obscured by the passage of time. Even though Ravel is a relatively modern perfume house that existed in the late 1940's and 1950's, if you know vintage perfumes at all, then you'll know that 50 or 60 years is a long time in perfume years. Smaller 'independent' perfume houses tend to pop up and fall away rather quickly. And it's not just the smaller houses- it seems that most perfumes fade from our collective memories with lightening-like speed.

In fact one wonders about the fate of the multitude of modern releases, and the niche companies that seem to pop up overnight. We know that the perfumes of today will likely face a similar fate since very, very few perfumes really stand the test of time. There are many reasons for this poor longevity, from weak business models to inconsistent raw materials and supply problems to simple bad luck. But mostly I think it is because perfume is like art. Very often, once you've created something, the animus leaves you. Or perhaps there are too many poorly conceived start-ups, without support for talent to grow or the vision to allow it to florish.

At first perfume may seem like an easy and cheap thing to produce. With a modest upfront investment in chemicals and creator, there is big profit potential. But it is deceptively simple. Fine things, truly fine things that is, tend to take time; original creations are not so easy to produce as uninspired knock-offs. So ultimately many of the 'new' things we see are not really so special and there is an almost constant turn-over of even the so-called successful 'hit' perfumes.

But even for it's time, Ravel was one of the smaller perfume houses based in New York. Like many, it touted a French connection, listing Paris as a second site as well but with practically no advertising history and no presence in famous reference works or collections (that I know of, yet...), there is little else to say about it. It seems Ravel was one of many start-ups that florished in the glow of post WWII optimisim but it lasted less than a decade. The perfumes of Ravel include: Adagio, Pagan, and Pagoda (a little metal bottle of this perfume recently surfaced on the web; if it's not been plucked up yet, you may still be able to find it, and if you do, please let me know what you find); all three of these were from 1945. Faun came out in 1946, followed by the trio of L'Amour En Rose, My Fair Lady and Moments De Passion which were released in 1955 and the final known release, No. 9, came out in 1956. Pagan and Faun caught my eye right away as the most originally named and the most desirable of Ravel's perfumes to collect... but I can only discuss Faun, since it's the only one I've experienced.

And what of the perfume in question, this Faun? As I've said, the name itself is intriguing. The image of the Faun is that of a half human, half deer that is usually but not always male. Looking at iconic images of the Faun, it seems clear there is an implied sensuality and rustic animalic quality is suggested by use of the Faun image. At its opening, Faun is bursting forth with juicy bergamot and smells at first like a typical hersperidic cologne. Very soon the citrus is joined by aldehydes which lift and intensify the composition, taking it more towards a typical perfume. Early on in the scent, I sense a slight turn toward cool green and slightly powdery chypre notes- there is a restrained plum-prune, mossy, mushroomy accord that typifies Chypres of this same period for me. Yet, smelled side by side, I see the accord is very hushed in Faun.

Soon the perfume turns again, the fresher citrus elements at the forefront bolstered by a rooty, effervescent middle in which orris and the rich, smooth, softness of fur notes shine. Fur notes in perfume have almost mythical status today. We do not see these notes often in the most modern compositions yet at one time fur was perhaps one of the most celebrated of notes for feminine perfumes, famously referred to in the poetry imagery of Baudelaire.

Fur, like musk smells heavily of animal but Ravel's Faun does not turn on us, nor bare its teeth, thanks to a generous helping of dry patchouli that anchors the composition perfectly. The patchouli plays up the tingle of salicyclates and prevents the perfume from going too far toward mossy green shadings of a proper chypre perfume. Along with the patchouli and fur, the base of the perfume reveals itself to be a proper, very classic and somewhat salty and stout leather.

Amazingly free of overt florals, Faun lives up to its androgynous promise. The citrus, aldehyde and patchouli/leather/fur combination is one that still feels wearable even in this admittedly dated creation. On the whole, I've become impressed with Faun, or more so with it's type- a genre busting scent that plays with male-female, cologne-perfume duality; it is one of the few vintages that I might enjoy wearing but that might also appeal to someone with more strictly modern tastes.

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

photo/art credits:

Nijinsky Faun: http://imagecache.allposters.com/images/pic/BRGPOD/171825~Nijinsky-s-Faun-Costume-in-L-Apres-Midi-D-Un-Faune-by-Claude-Debussy-Posters.jpg

Faun Seducing Girl: http://imagecache.allposters.com/images/pic/BRGPOD/212535~Nymph-Abducted-by-a-Faun-1860-Posters.

Faun with Horns: http://forestrogers.typepad.com/L-faun464.jpg

Faun Girl: http://images.epilogue.net/users/griffingirl/APHRODISIA_FAUN.jpg by christine griffin

Faun with Maiden & Red Flowers: www.karinboye.se/verk/akvareller/lilith-med-faun.gif

Faun & Flora: hoocher.com/Hans_Makart/Faun_and_Nymph_(Pan_and_Flora)_1872.jpg

In the meantime... Perfumery: practice & principles

Ok, ok. So I've been a little reticent lately, even stingy with my perfume-and-blog-related correspondence and commentary; stress and deadlines in unrelated areas have intruded rudely into the time I normally reserve for my perfumed pursuits! But in between the spaces, I've been reading Calkin and Jellinek's Perfumery: practice and principles. Perfumery is a 1994 textbook-level work focusing on the recent changes in the area of perfumery brought about by the modern analytic chemist's tools, chiefly gas chromatography and mass spectrometry, as well as growing changes in available raw materials. It is, well, weighty in parts- so unless you're going to be tested on organic chemistry sometime real soon, you might want to skip straight to the chapter called Selected Great Perfumes. For me this chapter is worth the entire book. For starters, I found the list of Great Perfumes selected, as well as those that were ignored, very interesting.
And I even started to feel a little depressed while reading about the perfumes. For example Ysatis is classified with other chypres because somewhere it's fingerprint stamps it as being in that group. But the GC information tells you nothing about how Ysatis really smells- if you don't know it, this perfume is a hot Ylang dominated skin-scent with white florals practically radiating from it's heart. It almost overwhelms me with smothering overbearing 80's style sillage but it was the perfect 1980's rendition of a suntan oil type of vacation scent. If you've seen the neon-colored pink, yellow and green trim of the box logo, well, it fits the scent perfectly.
Kaleidoscopic and buttery sweet with a faintly mossy dry-down (enough to keep your nose returning to tease it from the killer tuberose ylang-ylang combination). But I can't share those technicolor sensations with you if I just stick to the scent's GC profile, and wonder if it is really more of a chypre or a floral-musk. Ironically I feel just a little that the authors rely a bit much on the very same thing they caution perfumers not to rely too heavily on- that is, the GC analysis.

And GC MS is important- oh, so important to the chemistry side of perfume making. But I think in order to discuss perfume fairly, as art and as product, as when we are reviewing it, I think we need to stick very closely to our own impressions of any scent we're talking about. I would rather hear your own free associations and reports about what you think you smell, than just hear you rattle off a list of compounds. I am somewhat torn because I do love to read lists of notes but when I see that so many perfumes keep boiling back down to lists of similar ingredients, everything blurs into differing proportions of a small set of super-scenting chemicals like Hedione, Methyl Ionone or Galaxolide (just a fancy name for polycyclic musk, kittens), Iso-E and a few ubiquitous florals (rose/jasmine) and woods, vetiver and whatever decoration you throw on top. It's hard not to feel overwhelmed and somewhat jaded at the same time.

A GC MS machine...
But the danger in becoming jaded is that you really don't bother to stop and smell carefully anymore, or force yourself to make those associations that made smelling things so much fun in the beginning. So if you think Bvlgari Black smells like burning rubber, then please just say so- it tells me so much more than if you'd just rattled off the list of what was in the juice. In the past and unless they had the recipe, most perfumeologists had to rely on their noses in order to suss out what was in any given juice. It required effort, imagination and creativity. Plus, the more you know about scent and molecules, and organic chemistry, the more leeway you realize there is in smelling perfumes. Sometimes, rare notes appear and you catch little novel sub-tides inside of a complex composition. Some of us can smell things that others of us can't, or in smaller proportions. These little eddies and variables contribute much to the overall experience of a scent, to say nothing of our own internal experiences and tastes. And it's all of those little things that really help us pull more about the scent out of ourselves than if we stick to a "guided by notes" type of discussion.

Because with GC, there is no more need to guess about notes. You just toss a little of your sample 'fume onto the machine and maybe in twenty minutes or less, if you can read the print out or use the software to edit it, and you will be able to pick out and name all of the organic molecules that are in your sample. You even get the order of vaporization, and information about the relative magnitudes of constituents in it. No need to risk a guess and maybe sound stupid with your super smart perfume friends when discussing notes of a new, or rare lost perfume. Why is that so many of us act more like Mensa flunkies than simple scent junkies? No wonder it's been a sore point for some of those who've labored to train themselves to smell without the benefit of such tools!

Maybe I'm just arguing this way because my love of [rare] perfumes was ignited after I'd left my job in the analytical laboratory. I find it a little ironic that I used to run samples on GC/MS machines and idly wonder what ot do with the last 4 or 5 spaces in my machine... I even edited the raw data myself. And I won't lie... if I still worked there, I doubt I could resist the temptation to load up a few extras with my special 'blanks'. Of course I'd want to analyze some of my own perfumes. But I can't and so for now, my reviews will remain as they have, dealing mostly with trying to paint scent impressions for you with words, and dealing less with strictly dissecting out note lists and comparing to some known standard... although, as I've said before, it is a two edged thing.... So know that when you come here, you will find both educated and sometimes totally in the dark guesses. But at least you'll know the impressions are my own and for what it's worth, they're alway honest, mostly from the heart and not so much the head...

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

photo credits:
Lady with rose: media.photobucket.com diditrocious 'regal nose'
L' air du temps: parfumeriazet.sk Ysatis: ebay.cgi
CG MS: uaf.ed
Chimps smelling roses: chuvachienes.com

Next Vintage Perfume Review: Ravel FAUN!

It's been almost a month since my last post, and that's something I never wanted to do... but the recent quiessence of this blog belies the reality of my life. The closing of May marks the end of an incredibly hectic work year. I'm living with the truth of the old saying that whatever doesn't kill you, only leaves you stronger, or luctor et emergo, as they say.

Summer vacation starts June 1st so look for the upcoming review of a rare vintage perfume- Ravel's FAUN, circa 1940s. I'm also slowly putting together a very limited sample package of some of the recently reviewed perfumes featured here on TVPV, which I'll be sending to a couple of perfume bloggers that I know. So stay tuned, and maybe you can hear what they think of some of the perfumes I've brought out of the vault. And I'll be back in full force in June! In the meantime, in the photo you see my bottle of Ravel's Faun- it's not a fancy presentation, but don't let the Chanel knock-off presentation fool you...

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

Vivaudou Part II...

You may remember the earlier post on Vivaudou cosmetics and Nikki perfume. I've sent off a few samples of Nikki to various readers, and I'm still planning on sending it out to a few more, including someone who isn't expecting it. So far the feedback has been interesting: challenging, strange notes, or could it have begun turning?- as for the last one, no, I hope not! Seriously, it is too sweet and clean to be turning but you never really know how something smelled or was supposed to smell, in the beginning, when something is as old as this stuff is. But I argue it is just an unusual composition and one with lots of coumarin, I'm betting. The 'hazelnut' I get might smell more like 'hay' to others. And there's a very fine delicate complex powdery theme woven in, which really fits in with Vivaudou, once you realize that the name is synonymous with fine cosemetic powders. Indeed Nikki could be exactly that- an interpretation of a woman, smelt through powder, and just a trace of salt and old roses, along with something unexpected, something a little acrid or slightly bitter, marigold(?)... It grows on you... Perhaps I'll find a definitive opinion from someone more expert than I.

But until then, I have the pleasant task of updating you on the Vivaudou story. If you recall, in the intial story I speculated that the two Vivaudou's- Jean and Victor, were related. Well, it turns out they were related indeed! In fact, I heard from the grandson of Victor Vivaudou, a lovely gentleman named David Kinnement. It turns out David's grandfather Victor did much more than make perfume (and establish a thriving cosmetics business). He was arrested for smuggling (Diamonds! In his own Vivaudou (?) cold cream!) in the early 1920's. But his career began on a more hope-filled note when he graduated as a Maître de Parfum in Grasse around 1903. By 1914, he'd fled France to avoid the impending war and seek his fortune and fame in America, making cosmetics and perhaps trading in off-market women's couture (I'm assuming perhaps from his Old World connections...) . He left his wife and children behind and brought his mistress, Rose, to the US with him.
There he met the landed gentry of New York's golden society. He attended glittering parties that lasted for days at the Vanderbilt's and Gatsby's, and soon he and Rose purchased a home nearby. He started Vivaudou cosmetics, either with his father Jean, or more likely using Jean's name for the company (it isn't clear to me which was the case). Vivaudou landed in New York at a magical time in history and he was there to see New York transform itself from an almost provincial, colonial American city with quaint Belle Epoch tastes to the fully industrialized, sky scraper filled, world-class wonder we know today. Vivaudou associated with the cream of the crop of designers and artists of his time. The period of time and place in which he lived- New York, during the height of the jazz age and the birth of modern fashion photography and art, was as unique as the parfums he created.
His Orloff perfume bottles are certainly beautiful and distinctive, as Nikki attests. But what strikes me the most, as it did David, is the wonderful art work that was used in Vivaudou's print advertisements. One of the most famous artists he used, Henry Clive, achieved fame as a pin-up artist but he created many beautiful images for Vivaudou's cosmetics, powders and perfumes. I've taken the liberty of putting a few of these increasinly rare images up for you to feast your eyes on and so they can live on here among all the other wealth of vintage goodies I try to pack into this space.
Above, a gorgeous & detailed Mavis advertisement- the face powder, of course! And below,

One of Henry Clives' many period magazine covers (note his characteristic signature in the lower left corner). Red was a strong favorite color of Henry's and also of Vivaudou's, as you can see it was used extensively and lavishly in many of their advertsiing images.

Henry Clive did all of these advertising images, most of which were sourced from Flickr, American Archives dotcom or Pro dot Corbis dotcom.

I would love to see the advertising for Nikki, or any of the other Vivadou products but there just isn't anything I can come up with... And it's kind of funny because Vivaudou was associated with a host of perfume 'lines' including Delettrez, Arly (Paris France), Prince de Chany (Paris France & Beverly Hills,Ca), Vimay (Los Angeles and Culver City,CA) and finally Vadsco Sales Corp.(Long Island,NY).
Above, a rare advertising image from Vivaudou's Delettrez perfume line.

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

Note: all of the black and white images are DeMeyer: Dolores, first published in Vogue 1921 and 1916; Grace George, Vanity Fair 1920, courtesy Conde Nast. What you see here are photographs taken directly from my own DeMeyer book.