Fragrance Reviews by VintageVogue

One of the great classics of all time, Miss Dior was a joint effort by Jean Carles (Tabu and Ma Griffe) and Paul Vacher (who worked on Arpege before Richard Fraysse finished it). Luca Turin has called the newer formulation of Miss Dior the Reader's Digest version. That may be, but even a Reader's Digest version, if done well, of Shakespeare will retain some of the beauty and vigor of the original. That applies to the newer Miss Dior. It's not as dark and daring as the original, and it's definitely more powdery. However, it is still a beauty. The vintage is easy to find on eBay and can be had for a reasonable price. Elegant and feminine, Miss Dior is very fine in its vintage form and still fine in its newer form.

One of the great greens and, sadly, almost unknown by the younger generation. Ma Griffe, released in 1946, was developed by the great Jean Carles, who collaborated with Paul Vacher on the formula for the beautifully classic Miss Dior. Carles is also the nose behind the much maligned but great Tabu. Ma Griffe opens with a rush of greens and aldehydes. It's a high energy opening and settles quickly as the florals and spices play off one another. The styrax and cinnamon in the base notes add a smartness and distinctiveness to the drydown. According to Jean Carles's son, it is possible that Jean Carles never smelled this great classic since he lost his sense of smell shortly after WW2. Ma Griffe is clever, smart, yet softly tailored. Great for office wear and also appropriate for evening as well. Lovers of Y, Cristalle, Caleche and Diorella should give Ma Griffe a try.

YSL's first fragrance release, Y is like many other classics in that the House which released it virtually ignores it. And what a shame, too. Y is a gorgeously wearable green-fruity chypre. It's all delightful greens and mosses with some subtle fruity top notes. The older I get, the more I gravitate towards the green chypres; I find them easy to wear on those days when my "ick" factor is rather high. I read on a blog that Tom Ford ordered the surgeon's knife to re-orch Y. I've never smelled the vintage juice, but the modern version is just fine. Top notes include greens, gardenia, peach and honeysuckle. Mid notes include rose, jasmine, orris, hyacinth and ylang-ylang, plus some well-mannered tuberose. Base notes include oakmoss, amber, patch, vetiver and styrax. Y is a true classic, as beautiful and timeless as a karyatid.

Cristalle EdT is an easy to wear green-fruity chypre. It smells like a cross between Diorella and YSL's Y, though, unlike Diorella, it doesn't have the dark base notes. And it's also a bit fruitier than Y, especially in the top notes. Cristalle EdT is another masterpiece from the great Henri Robert, the nose who developed Muguet des Bois for Coty in the '40s and Chanel No 19 in the late '60s. Like many chypres, Cristalle is versatile enough to go from office to evening out, as long as the evening out isn't too formal. Sillage and lasting power are both good. Notes include bright greens, lemon, honeysuckle, rose, woods and moss. Cristalle is a sparkling, high energy chypre, as classy today as it was when introduced over 30 years ago. My only wish for Cristalle EdT is that Chanel would promote it; it deserves better than the slight attention it receives in the States.

Another gorgeous entry in the Ma Collection from the House of Patou, L'Heure Attendue is stunning, and, with all due respect to the reviewer below, I do not find it to smell dated at all. Released in 1946 to celebrate the liberation of Paris from Nazi occupation, L'Heure Attendue is a wearable, surprisingly modern spicy-woodsy oriental composition. There are shades of Almeras's Chaldee in the heart, and the beginning is almost a foreshadowing of Kerleo's later 1000 (Mille). L'Heure Attendue is a fairly sober fragrance. It opens with some creamy florals and then smoothly develops into a spicy-woodsy drydown that is as wearable today as it would have been 60 years ago. Notes are listed below so I will not repeat them. L'Heure Attendue strikes me as the Youth Dew or Opium of the '40s. If you ever have an opportunity, try this one. It deserves to be loved and savored by another generation, but sadly has been discontinued.

Here is an update on my search for Essence Rare: it took me 2.5 years, but I finally got my hands on an old bottle of parfum de extrait of Essence Rare that smells wonderful. In fact, it smells better than what I remembered, if that's possible. Thanks to eBay, I was able to get the parfum and some perfumed body lotion. Both smell fabulous and are closer to Chanel No 19 than I would have thought, because both share a woodsy, mossy greenness that is breathtaking. Essence Rare was/is a gorgeous floral aldehyde with enough green and woods in it to make it a timeless scent that deserves to be resurrected. I hope someone will do so before my bottle of the extrait runs dry.

I'm so glad two other reviewers have added their thoughts here about the original My Sin from Lanvin and not the duplicate from LongLostPerfume. Since I can't edit my comments below, I'll add them here. Let me first clarify that my review below was for LLP's dupe and not Lanvin's original. Since I wrote that review, I have had opportunity to try the original My Sin extrait. I agree completely with the reviewer below who said that the dupe pales in comparison to the original. The dupe can be harsh and rather dry, but the original is really a soft floral with a bit of an edge to it. I know that some claim LLP's dupe is right on, but I disagree with that now since I've tried the original myself. LLP has some great dupes, but their My Sin is not as true to the original as it could be.

I recently found a bottle of older L'Aimant (dating probably from the '70s) for exactly .99 American cents. What a find. Did I snap it up? You better believe it! It is gorgeous and is like a combination of the original Arpege with a twist of L'Origan. It's a nice, soft aldehydic floral with a clean, ambery undertone. This L'Aimant is perfectly blended. I'd say it would be appropriate for any age woman. I will also say that I tried a sample once of the newer L'Aimant and didn't find it as enchanting as this older bottle. Coty has some of the deepest pockets in the beauty industry. They should pay more attention to the maintenance and even the re-introduction of some of their older fragrance repertoire. These timeless scents deserve better than what Coty is presently doing. Just my opinion, but there it is.

In 1996 the now deceased Edmond Roudnitska remarked that Vol de Nuit, one of Jacques Guerlain's masterpieces, had not received the attention or appreciation it deserved, either from the public or from Guerlain itself. That is assuredly even truer now, for one is hard pressed to find Vol de Nuit at your typical local department store counter (this is true in America; the situation abroad is hopefully more promising for VdN). And what a shame that is, too. The House promotes neither Vol de Nuit nor Apres L'Ondee these days, yet those are two of the most haunting and timeless fragrances from the old line Guerlains. As far as VdN goes---I enjoy equally the EdT and the extrait de parfum. Both are fairly easy to find online, thankfully. It is almost a seamless fragrance, progressing from one stage to the next in subtle ways and leaves a lovely ambery drydown. Lovers of Patou's Normandie or even Dior's Miss Dior (vintage, especially) should give Vol de Nuit a try. I think it would be superb on a man, because, let's be honest here, Vol de Nuit skirts the masculine. I don't mean that it's double fisted, barrel-chested masculine. No. I mean that Vol de Nuit isn't particularly sweet, and the oakmoss and amber and hint of leather would be perfectly at home on a man. Those who have tried Vol de Nuit in the past and disliked it really should try it again at some point. It's a true masterpiece of art and will continue to be heralded as one of Jacques Guerlain's timeless works of perfumery.

I give a resounding second to the reviews below. Cocktail is a sophisticated, elegant fragrance and is one of the esteemed Ma Collection fragrances from Jean Patou. Whenever the subject comes up of what to wear to dinner, the discussion often concludes with some demanding that no fragrance be worn at all, while die-hards will be hard pressed to do without their fragrance. Cocktail easily solves the problem. It is anything but overwhelming and stays close to the skin. I've been to events where the smell of Amarige or Cinnabar or Aromatics Elixir almost overshadowed everything else. These aren't terrible fragrances. Far from it. But their effect can be gigantic, especially in a setting where food is involved and especially if the wearers are anosmic to their own fragrance and spritz just a bit more than normal because it's an evening event. Enter Cocktail. This gem will never compete with the food on your plate or the liquid in your glass. In fact, it will complement both. Notes are already listed, so I won't repeat them. And, yes, there is some subtle and gorgeous amber in here. Perfect for sport or an evening out, Cocktail is a classic that deserves to be returned to Patou's regular line up. It's too good to be put out to pasture.

It's interesting to smell different interpretations of the tropics. Take, for instance, two opposite ends of that interpretation: Patou's Colony and Guy Laroche's Fidji. Both are well constructed, devastatingly gorgeous fragrances, yet are polar opposites. I'm not a huge fan of florals, especially fragrances that are straight up florals. But I make an exception for Fidji, and Fidji is a straight up floral. This is one beautiful fragrance. It's intoxicating without being overpowering. It's intensely feminine without being cloying. It's sweet without being syrupy. It has green notes, but they're subtle and well balanced. Lasting power is excellent. And what's more, it doesn't turn into something faunky on my skin. It reminds me of the smell experienced when one sticks one's nose into a tropical lily and inhales deeeply. I read somewhere that the formula of Fidji may have been changed recently. The mini I bought is probably the newer formula, if that rumor is true. Still, the fragrance is excellent and captures tropical paradise in a way the EL's Beyond Paradise misses. Fidji is a must try for floral lovers.

There are some fabulous scents in Jean Patou's, now defunct and rightly mourned, Ma Collection. However, I think that Colony may still be in production, but don't hold me to that. I saw on an American etailer that the parfum (new) is available, and the EdT is still easily found. Regardless, this is one sophisticated fragrance. The opening is pineapple and summery. But hang onto your hat. The next stage is Bandit meets Pineapple. If you're not a leather fan, this stage will be especially challenging. It's green and leathery, yet the pineapple is still there, keeping it all together. As this stage develops into the drydown, the spices emerge. Sillage is stunning, and as far as I'm concerned, the sillage could be bigger. The drydown reveals a spicy, chypre base. This is like an Agatha Christie novel set in French governed tropics. On the surface it seems to be all sunshine and light, but you quickly discover that there are some decidedly dark and dangerous undercurrents here, and they will not be ignored. Colony is not for the faint hearted. Some recommend it for autumn wear only, but I frankly think it's just fine all year long.

This review refers to the original formula: Of all the dept store designer brands, I think YSL comes up with the most innovative scents and bottle designs. This was especially true when YSL himself was at the helm----think Y, Rive Gauche, Opium, Paris. Released in 1971, Rive Gauche is a marvel to behold. An absolute masterpiece of silvery coolness; it's a paradox of the strong mingled with the tender. However, I will tell you that after you spritz it on, don't even bother to smell it until an hour passes. It's even better after 2 hours pass; the metallic clink you smell immediately upon application is not indicative of the drydown. Not one bit. RG is what I call a glamour-hyde, like Arpege, Chant d'Aromes, Chanel No 5, or Worth's Dans la Nuit. If you like the elegance of the floral aldehydes, you may very well fall hard for Rive Gauche. This is one of the few scents I own that garners me compliments from strangers. Five stars. Addendum: don't hold me to this, but I'm almost positive that the original formula (you can still find it online) has YSL's name at the bottom of the bottle, whereas the newer formulation has his name in the middle.

I wore Hope for a few years in the '80s and loved it, then put it aside. Recently I discovered the Frances Denney web site and ordered a .25oz bottle of the Hope parfum. Am I ever pleased. What a beauty. It starts out as a classic aldehydic floral, but the drydown is what makes Hope a real winner. The geranium settles in with the base notes and becomes dark and clove/carnation-like, a deeply attractive skin liquor. After an hour or two, Hope becomes a perfect bouquet of classic flowers balanced on a dark, sensually spicy backdrop. Notes include jasmin, Bulgarian rose, Algerian geranium, allspice berries (Pimenta dioica) and other spices. In many ways, Hope is like a tamer version of Caron's Coup de Fouet, which is also on my favorites list. I'm delighted that Hope once again has a prominent place in my fragrance repertoire after a 20+ year absence.

Whatever I add to the comments already made in praise of Chanel N°19 will seem like a cliché. I will say, however, how perfect a scent this fragrance is. There have been maybe a baker's dozen, maybe more, wondrously perfect fragrances released over the past 150 years. It might be fun to have a round table with perfume experts and noses to discuss everyone's opinion as to what these might or might not be. I would assuredly put Chanel N°19 on that list. It has been ages (okay, it's been 20+ years) since I smelled the EdT, so my views on N°19 are based on the EdP, which is supposed to be closer to the parfum version than the EdT. On the other hand, I know there are those who swear equally by the EdT. Chanel N°19 is green, it's grassy, it's woodsy, it's classy, it's restrained, it's alluring, it's mysterious, it's perfect. I can see this going straight from daywear into the evening. This is the polar opposite of the loud sweet florals like Giorgio and like the cloying water babies that are all over the market today. The EdP is getting more difficult to find. My hope is that Chanel will keep it around. N°19 deserves a prominent place in the marketplace for generations to come.

Divine Folie, another beauty by Henri Almeras, who also brought us Joy and Normandie, is part of the Ma Collection reprisals. There are still a scant few full bottles online. Released in 1933, Divine Folie was formulated to accessorize the white satin and silk evening gowns Patou was designing to counterbalance the little black cocktail dresses of Chanel, yet it is versatile enough for day wear as well. Divine Folie is in many ways a more floral precursor of Normandie, released two years later. DF is well mannered and feminine with notes of neroli and ylang-ylang balanced with jasmine, iris and rose. I also smell carnation and amber. And now and then I smell a note which is vaguely reminiscent of leather. It's almost as if a svelte, Patou-clad femme has just opened her leather handbag from which she is retrieving her driving gloves, and she's wearing a carnation in her lapel. Like Normandie, Divine Folie is subtle and warm and is very wearable. It does not scream "vintage" in any way, nor is it a heavy aldehyde like Chanel 22 or Chanel 5, both beauties, but both admittedly heavy fragrances. How sad that Patou's Ma Collection has been discontinued. The gorgeous fragrances in the Collection deserve to be enjoyed by yet another generation.

Jean Patou's Normandie (1935) strikes me as a beautiful medium somewhere between Guerlain's Vol de Nuit (1933) and Arpege de Lanvin (1927). One of my friends swears by Normandie as an autumn and winter fragrance. Frankly, I like it in the warmer months as well. If you have any desire to own this lovely, get it now while there are still a few bottles available online. Part of the esteemed Patou Ma Collection reprisals, Normandie is classified as an oriental-ambery type. The carnation, jasmine and rose are all in the forefront, while the back notes consist of amber, vanilla and woods. This is a lady-like and restrained fragrance, not one which races ahead of you into the room. No, this one floats in with you, enveloping you in a sillage of sophistication and restraint. Normandie is powdery in the final act, but not in the way that, say, Rive Gauche is powdery. It's powdery more in the line of Vol de Nuit or even Caron's En Avion. Normandie is as fashionable today as it was decades ago when it was released to celebrate the maiden voyage of the transatlantic liner of the same name. If anyone from Patou is reading this, please, please return Normandie to your regular line-up. It deserves no less than to be placed in the same category as Joy and 1000.

I'm a woman, and I love Old Spice. Sure, I love it on you men, but I'm talking about how it smells ON ME! The only reason more women don't keep a bottle of this fabulous jus in their wardrobe is simply because it's always marketed for men. But if you're an oriental-spicy loving woman, and, especially if you're a woman who loves, say, the old Caron urn fragrances, you will love to wear Old Spice. Within ten minutes of application, Old Spice smells like the drydown of something between Ernest Daltroff's (Caron) En Avion and his French Cancan. I'm perfectly serious. The florals appear after a while, and the woodsy backdrop is a perfect balance to the delicate spices. It's sheer sophistication. And for the price. . .well, you'll smell like a million bucks, only you'll have spent about seven. You'll think you just exited one of those famously chic Parisian perfume boutiques. No kidding.

Patou's 1000 is a floral that isn't a floral. It's really a chypre in disguise as a floral. I find it to be creamy, suave and downright elegant. I don't get the "old lady" smell. And, frankly, if an old lady smells like this, she must have good taste and wisdom, which is what you might expect from someone with a crown of gray. There's rose here, but it's muted. There's osmanthus and a bit of peach. Some oakmoss, too. Everything is so well blended and seamless, it's hard to distinguish one particular note from another. This has become, next to Arpege, my very favorite. If you didn't like it in the past, maybe you should revisit it and see if your perception of 1000 has changed.

Okay, okay. I'm eating a bit of crow these days. Have revisted Chamade and have fallen in love. Have revisted Nocturnes and have fallen in love. What struck me as soapy months ago now strikes me as feminine and cool. I like the review below that likens Nocturnes to stepping into a forest glade at twilight. That's a beautiful image and captures the essence of this scent. I'm a big Caron fan, and for a while I thought this classic just wasn't for me. But I've changed my mind. Definitely full bottle worthy.

Since I am unable to edit my review below, I'll have to write another one. And while I'm writing this review, I'm eating a bit of crow. But as long as the crow is wearing Chamade, I guess it'll be all right. I recently revisited Chamade, and I've changed my views of it completely. It's wonderful. And, yes, I've also changed my views on Nocturnes de Caron. I've come to like this family of green and white balsamic-aldehydic fragrances. In fact, I find myself craving them. Chamade is classy, it's feminine, and I admire the way it dries down on my skin. Would love to smell the parfum. This review is for the PdT.

Apercu is assuredly an underknown and therefore underappreciated classic from Houbigant. Apercu was first released about 80 years ago, and whether or not it was reformulated when it was reintroduced in 2000 is anyone's guess. My guess is that yes, it was reformulated to some extent. This is a chypre floral. Very easy to wear for a chypre. If you find Mitsouko a bit strange for your tastes (for the record, I don't, but many do) but are interested in chypres, this is one to try. It's similar to Jean Patou's 1000 but without that questionable (nasty?) undertone, and it's not as powerful as Clinique's Aromatics Elixir, another chypre floral. Apercu begins with shades of florals (rose, jasmine and a muted, well-behaved tuberose) and spices (oakmoss, sandalwood, patchouli, clove, cassis) and then mellows to a classic chypre heart. The drydown's end is once again that florally spice. Just beautiful. You can often find the pure parfum on eBay for a reasonable price. I was fortunate enough to snag an 8ml bottle for under $12.00, shipping included. Can't beat that. The EdP is also beautiful, which is good to know in case you can't get your hands on the parfum. Bravo, Houbigant, for another classic. I hope this one is around for a long time. It deserves to be.

Le Dix is a beautiful, powdery, classic floral-aldehyde; superior in the pure parfum. Not as good in the EDT. The pure parfum goes on smooth and is a comfy-cozy, luxurious fragrance. The EDT tends to be metallic on my skin; the drydown of the EDT is okay, but that luxuriousness is muted by a metallic tang. I have only seen this online, but it’s not too difficult to find. The lemon and bergamot in the opening notes are balanced with peach, coriander, and that classical aldhehydic ping. The blend is done so seamlessly with Le Dix that I have a hard time distinguishing a particular note in the opening. The middle notes are lilac, iris, rose, jasmine, and lily of the valley, while the base notes are vetiver, sandalwood, musk, amber, benzoin, tonka bean, and balsam. The drydown is a nice vanillic-ambery one, very feminine, very sophisticated. Very grandmotherly, but in the nicest way, of course. Le Dix (French for "the ten")gets its name from the Balenciaga salon which was situated at No. 10, avenue Georges V in Paris. No relation to Chanel No 5.

Another Angel wannabe. Blah blah blah. When I first sniffed Plush, it was from the sample vial I received with an order (of L’Heure Bleue, BTW----how ironic to pair these two scents) from a wonderful perfume e-tailer. Honestly, at first whiff Plush seemed to be pretty good. Then my opinion changed as I applied some to my wrist and let it do its thing. Oh, Plush isn’t terrible. If you like the extreme gourmands, you’ll probably like it. It’s not as potent as Angel, but it does have that big patchouli note in the drydown, so if you’re a patch-hag, you may like Plush. I don’t smell the chocolate puddin’ in Plush like I do in Angel, but there’s lots of honey, fruits, caramel and vanilla. Maybe some licorice. It’s very sweet, almost too sweet. I’d call it Angel-Lite. Not terrible, not great, but that’s only because I’m not a huge fan of the extreme gourmand frags. Fans of Angel and possibly Lolita Lempicka might enjoy a spritz or two of Plush.

Angelique Encens on me smells the way a big black panther would smell as it cools down from a long and sweaty chase. To me, AE is the quintessential le parfum fourrure, but not in a nice way. When I first smelled AE, my initial reaction was, “this is very mannish.” My second thought was, “this is very cattish.” My third thought was, “this is like getting an old fur coat out of mothballs.” So I was wryly amused when I was informed that Creed had developed this for Marlene Dietrich back in the ‘30s. Well, that would explain my first two reactions.!! There’s something repulsive about the way AE melds with my chemistry. It’s so repulsive I’m constantly smelling my wrists to figure out what in the world this note is that I find so off-putting. Is it ambergris? Whatever it is, it’s certainly compelling and repelling simultaneously. I will admit that at the end, hours and hours later, there is a faint trail of pure musk oil left behind. I actually like that part, but it takes too doggoned long to get there. Angelic incense, eh? Surely not the incense of heavenly seraphim or cherubim. Maybe the incense of those “other” angels, like the ones in Tartarus?

Quelques Fleurs is a lovely, soft floral from Houbigant. Demi-Jour, also from Houbigant, is very reminiscent of QF and is my favorite of the two, though QF is very nice in its own right. My box of Quelques Fleurs says L’Original on it; however, I’m sure the juice has been reformulated since its first release in 1912 and its re-introduction in 1987. What sets Quelques Fleurs apart from many of the florals on today’s market is that the green note floats in the foreground without being obnoxious and without being overbearing; the way the green is formulated here, it keeps the whole juice light and cheery, not heavy or cloying. Another difference from all the cookie cutter floral frags is that QF comes without that heavy peach Jell-O note or heavy watery freesia note I smell in all too many fragrances. The drydown of Quelques Fleurs is softly musky with a nice touch of amber. On my skin, QF can become a bit brassy towards the end, but on others it stays very soft and enticing. A nice classic for any floral lover’s perfume collection and easily worn by a 12 year old or a 112 year old. This one beautifully bridges the generation gap.

To my nose, Climat is a fairly uneventful and unimpressive aldehyde. It seems to have been constructed without using much imagination. I smell it now and then on a lady at church; it’s okay on her, I suppose. I have a mini of Climat in my own fragrance collection; when I first applied the fragrance, it brought me back to when I was an adolescent and would receive for Christmas one of those fragrance collections from the Sears or JC Penney Christmas catalogs. Anyone else remember those from years back? Those catalogs would offer a collection of mini perfumes, and I don’t recall these collections being terribly expensive, either. They were fun, too. But anyway, Climat reminds me of a fairly nondescript aldehydic fragrance which was in one of those collections. This isn’t a terrible fragrance, but it’s not particularly enticing to me, either. There are better, less nose-grabbing aldhydes out there. Climat is missing something. It needs a little oomph, like when your food needs to be seasoned. . . . Pass the salt.

Bois des Iles is a nice balance between cold and hot; like My Sin, this fragrance is an acquired taste. Very dry. Makes me think of silver. Some fragrances, like Guerlain’s Mitsouko or Lanvin’s Arpege, make me think of gold. Bois des Iles is like cool silver warming in your hand, or a cool silver necklace warmed by your neck. It isn’t as sharp as My Sin, nor does it have that animalic tang of My Sin. Frankly, of the two I prefer Bois des Iles. The sandalwood kick is pretty strong and exhilarating. As with My Sin, the florals in Bois des Iles get lost on my skin, but I do smell that aldehydic ping, a little citrus, a little spice, a little musk, and a lot of woods. This is available in EDT and parfum strengths. This review is for the EDT. Interesting note: Lanvin’s My Sin debuted a year before Bois des Iles was released and was formulated by a Russian perfumer, Madame Zed. Chanel’s Bois des Iles, released in 1926, was developed by Ernest Beaux who was also Russian and who said that his inspiration for this fragrance came from a Tchaikovsky piece he had seen performed in Moscow. A definite connection between old Russia and these two fragrances. Glad to have the classics back.

If there ever was an ineptly named fragrance, Chic is it. Take some old fingernail polish remover (the kind with acetone), pour it generously over a grapefruit, extract the juice, and presto: out pops Chic, a tart, sharp version of acetone designed for the skin instead of the nails. And long lasting---phew. It just gets worse and worse. Carolina Herrera has put her name on many chic and classy fashions. This fragrance isn’t one of those. Instead of chic, it should be called “Sheesh.” Sheesh!

My understanding is that Ferre by Ferre has been discontinued. That’s a real shame, because this is an artful and avant-garde floral-aldehyde which reminds me quite a bit of Caron’s original Fleurs de Rocaille (1933), only I like this one better. If you’re confused by all the fragrances which bear the Ferre label, you’re likely not alone. Ferre by Ferre is housed in a beautiful gold-capped black boule which comes in a shiny gold box. This is a nice Italian mélange which opens with orange blossom, lemon, bergamot, peach, ylang-ylang, and butterbush. The heart consists of rose, jasmine, orris, mimosa, violet, passion fruit, violet, cassia, lily of the valley, and carnation. The base is of vanilla, cedar, sandalwood, precious spices, amber, vetiver and musk. Ferre by Ferre has good staying power and is perfect for an elegant evening engagement. It’s a complex, multi-layered scent. Cerebral, and not for one who likes the cookie-cutter fragrances which seem to come out daily. For a woman who is not afraid to be different.

Strictly speaking, Montaigne is not one of Caron’s urn fragrances but is considered one of their boutique scents. As I write this review, Montaigne is not mentioned on the Caron web site, but it is most assuredly still in production. It is available in both pure parfum and EDT strengths. This review is for the parfum; my understanding is that the EDT is very faithful to the parfum and is probably more cost effective in the long run. Montaigne was developed on the same aromatic, fruity liquor that revs up Alpona’s engines, only there are enough changes in Montaigne that someone who has trouble with Alpona can most likely wear Montaigne. This is certainly the case for me who “has trouble” wearing Alpona (understatement). Montaigne is an intense fragrance, so apply sparingly; it is also long lasting and at times reminds me very much of the torrid Amarige. Montaigne has notes of jasmine, bitter orange, mandarin, mimosa, blackcurrant, coriander, vanilla and that fabulous Mysore sandalwood which anchors both Guerlain’s Samsara and Ferre’s Ferre 20. There is a hint of an exotic sharpness to Montaigne (probably the Alpona accord) which teasingly plays around the edges but never overbears as it does in Mother Alpona. Very wearable, very luxurious and exotic, very womanly, Montaigne is a modern day classic.

Caron’s rose parfum is an exquisite, powdery soliflore and belongs to the elite ranks of the Caron urn fragrances. Caron’s rose is a real beauty; it opens with three dominant roses---Bulgarian, May, and Centifolia rose blooms and an undertone reminiscent of the earlier N’Aimez Que Moi. A spicy geranium and touch of mint nudge forward during the middle phase, while vetiver, sandalwood, vanilla and musk and that creamy Caron base round out the whole. Beautifully formulated, it is similar in many ways to the rosy Or et Noir, another of the Caron urn fragrances. The one fault I find with Caron’s Rose is that it doesn’t last as long as Caron’s other urn parfums. At least, that’s true with my chemistry. Created by Michel Morsetti, Caron’s rose is a faithful reproduction of an elegant rose bouquet. A roseate, heavenly delight

I have seen on other fragrance boards that Roma has been discontinued; however, I have not been able to verify that from a reliable source. Roma is a classically constructed vanillic oriental-ambery fragrance, similar to Shalimar, but with a good helping of mint in the opening. Be prepared for that big poof of mint when you first apply Roma. It’s there, it’s unmistakable, and it’s big. Takes a while for the mint to calm down, but when it does the drydown is pretty nice. Roma is still readily available online and is usually to be found for a good price. Roma is redolent of sunny days along the Tiber, crowds gathered around the Colosseum, and a brisk walk to the Pantheon. My only criticism (besides the mint) is that I’d have liked Roma to have more of a chiaroscuro feel to it; this is modern Rome bristling with its native Italians and all the colorfully clad, excited touristas. I’d like to smell something that combined the aura of ancient and modern Rome. Something with a dark note that represented, say, the Subura with its dangers and oddities. Don’t remember the Subura? Get out yer copy of Juvenal’s Satires, blow off the dust, and read what I mean. Still, Roma is very nice, very classic, especially in the way it dries down. Let’s hope Roma is alive and well after all and that the rumor of it being axed is wrong. If you like Shalimar, I think you’d like Roma, too. Roma aeterna vivit.

WOW! As someone who is accustomed to the magic of the older, classic Guerlains, I was pleasantly shocked by Samsara. It’s hot; it’s steamy; it’s passion in the raw. Samsara is in the same family as Estee Lauder’s Tuscany and Victoria’s Secret exotic Rapture; it is one major, roiling heat wave. The treble notes in Samsara play second fiddle to the big, booming bass notes of Mysore sandalwood, a second type of sandalwood, amber, and musk. The floral and fruity top notes tend to dissipate fairly quickly, especially in the warmer months. Samsara is a big wallop of pure carnality. I’d classify this as an exotic, sexy fragrance. Ardent, passionate, seductive, and steamy, Samsara can roar into the room way before you do and stay there well after you depart, so apply this one lightly, please. This is the way Cleopatra must have smelled. I like the shocking compliment Horace paid her in his Odes 1.37: “ No lowly woman she!!” The same can be said of Samsara.

Amarige is a raging torrent of fruits and flowers enveloped in a voluptuous, musky base. I frankly like it. It’s strong, granted, so apply lightly. If used too heavily, Amarige will enter the building before you do, and we don’t want that now, do we ladies. Between the EDT and the parfum, the parfum is maybe a bit nicer, though there isn't much difference between the two when it’s all said and done. The drydown is spicy and woodsy and musky all at once. Very sensual, very heady, and long lasting. Some women wear it better than others, it’s true. On the wrong chemistry Amarige can turn brassy and green. On the right chemistry Amarige is exuberant, amorous, assertive and sparkling. Very appealing to a man’s nose, in the experience of many (including mine). Keep your mouth closed when you’re spritzing this one; its molecules have a way of heading for one’s mouth, and once it’s in your mouth, well, you’d better grab the Listerine and gargle it out. Much better on your arms, that’s for sure.

Another charming winner from perfume nose Sophia Grojsman, Paris is an impressionistic basket of radiant cabbage roses set off by a few violets. I had read once that the formulation for Paris follows that of L’Air du Temps very closely with two major substitutions----the spicy carnation note has been muted to make way for the roses and violets. This seems to be true, for when I sniff L’Air du Temps from its bottle, it always makes me think of Paris, and vice versa. YSL’s Paris captures the essence and romance of the City of Lights. Grojsman tells a charming story of how she knew she had developed a winning fragrance. While working on Paris, she was wearing it home one evening when she noticed, to her chagrin, that a drunk was following her. As she picked up her pace, the drunk knew that Sophia was trying to shake him, and he shouted, “Hey, lady, I’m not following YOU. I’m just trying to smell your PERFUME!!” At that moment she knew she had a real winner. Rosy, powdery, radiantly musky in the drydown and long lasting. For lovers everywhere of roses and all things Parisian.

Jacomo’s Paradox is a liquid fruit salad with notes of blackcurrant, melons, tangerine, melons, an ozonic note, melons, rose, melons, cardamom . . . and melons. Do you see a pattern here? Bingo. Paradox is what happens when you accidentally tumble into an oversized melon salad and can’t escape. Oh, I love melons, at least for eatin’. Not sure I want to smell this melon-ish, though, throughout the day. Like most frags that don’t agree with me, Paradox only gets stronger and stronger with my chemistry and almost refuses to budge when soap and towel hit it. There are some fragrances I don’t care for on myself but enjoy on others (such as Bal a Versailles); however, I’m not sure I would want to work next to someone who was wearing this one. The times I’ve worn Paradox it tends to grow sweeter and becomes cloying. This isn’t a terrible fragrance (like Halloween or the dreaded Chic by Herrera), but it’s not something I can wear, either. I’ll give it a “meh.”

I must be mellowing in my old age. For years I thought I disliked Shalimar. Not sure why, exactly, except that maybe I had smelled too many of the inferior Shalimar-wannabes through the years. I recall once, a few years back, spritzing on some Shalimar at a fragrance counter, then being sorry I had done so. However, last year I bought a small bottle (half ounce) of the EDT at a discount store. I couldn’t resist. It was only a few dollars, and Shalimar would make a nice addition to my little osmotheque, right?, and besides, I’ve always thought its bottle was beautiful. Of course, after I got home, I spritzed some on myself and once again dismissed it. Well, fast -forward a year+ later. I’ve grown very attached to Guerlain’s Apres L’Ondee and Mistouko, and so recently, once again, I decided to get out my little bottle of Shalimar and once again spritz it on. Those same opening notes that I don’t particularly care for came up to my nose—that vanilla that’s so strong it’s like someone poured a bottle of extract down your neck. A few minutes later I put my nose to my arm. Why, what was that? Could it be? Yes, it was. I could detect that famous Guerlain accord which marks the House’s classics. I sniffed again. Yes, definitely it was that unusually delightful base. I continued to track the drydown, and I’ll admit it’s all right. Hmmmmmm. I’m not saying I’ll wear Shalimar all the time. But I am saying that I’ve done an about face. It’s not Arpege, mind you, but it’s all right, just the same. Glad to get to know you, Shalimar. At last.

Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue is a scent one has to mosey up to slowly, especially if one’s nose is not accustomed to these older fragrances. L'Heure Bleue is a rich floral-ambery scent which boasts wearers ranging from Queen Elizabeth II to Liza Minnelli. Its opening is a rush of a dusky, bittersweet aniseed mixed with almond-scented heliotrope. Similar in its opening to Apres L’Ondee, only stronger and much more assertive. The middle notes of L’Heure Bleue consist of clove bud, Bulgarian rose, damascene rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang and orchid. After this fragrance cooks on your skin a couple hours, the powdery base of vanilla, sandalwood, musk, vetiver, and benzoin come to the fore. L’Heure Bleue is formulated such that it’s often difficult to pinpoint one particular note; rather, the nose detects more of the whole than the individual parts. The famous Guerlain base, so evident in Apres L’Ondee, is evident here as well. L’Heure Bleue comes in pure parfum, EDP, and EDT. This review is for the EDP. Give this venerable classic more than one try if you found it too odd and too strong at first. This one has been around a long time and for good reason. Powdery, cozy, and comforting. Wear it on a cold day in Autumn to get the full effect.

Rochas's Alchimie is composed of three distinct movements. It opens with a burst of fruity green notes including grapefruit, bergamot, and black currant bud. This overture is very short-lived, and then the sweetness of the second movement begins. The middle notes of jasmine and acacia are almost candyish, but in a nice way. Reminiscent of Lolita Lempicka, only not as sweet. As Alchimie moves into its third movement, it becomes exquisitely warm and spicy and woodsy with a sweet vanillic base note. Very nice, and very long lasting. A little goes a long way with this fragrance. Alchimie does exactly what its name implies: it magically transforms itself on the wearer’s skin from a fruity green to a rich gold. Go smell it, and see what I mean.

POW POW!! BANG BANG!! That’s the exciting opening of Caron’s Poivre, a spectacular parfum which is one of their elite urn fragrances. A jolt of spicy, peppery geranium opens Poivre, and if you don’t like spicy fragrances, then stop here. But if you do, keep reading. Poivre only gets better and better. The geranium segues into a wallop of clove, and the excitement builds. Yes, I’m a big fan of pepper and clove as you can tell. Loved the Clove gum when I was a kid, even. As Poivre’s drydown begins, the scent stays warm, cozy, and then develops into that lovely base of vanilla, incense, and whatever else is in the delectable Caron accord. This might be too fiery for some. But if you like spicy food and aren’t put off by an in-your-face blast of peppery geranium and cloves, you might like this one. When I wear Poivre, I can’t stop smelling my wrist. It’s a gustative delight, but in a classic way. This and En Avion are my favorites of the urn fragrances.

Picture this: a large, beautiful bouquet of spicy carnations, roses, jasmine, lily of the valley and dozens other varieties of blooms. Combine this bouquet with Ernest Daltroff’s genius, and the result is the timeless and regal Bellodgia. She’s the queen of the spicy carnation scents, and in my book, she’s the best. I've wondered if Bellodgia provided the inspiration behind Nina Ricci’s classic L’Air du Temps, but I’ve never been able to verify that. Bellodgia is chic, sophisticated, and is the right balance of floral and spicy. According to the Caron web site, more than 100 floral essences went into its formulation. When I wear Bellodgia, I picture Audrey Hepburn (with long, upswept hair, not with the gamine cut she sported early on in her career) wearing the green and white sundress which Doris Day wore in Hitch’s The Man Who Knew too Much (yes, I love Doris Day, but this frag makes me think of Audrey) and a nice, French, wide-brimmed straw hat and carrying a white handbag and matching gloves. This picture to me is Bellodgia---a classic and chic spicy floral. Like sunlight rippling on a clear Italian lake.

Sure wish the Fendi sisters hadn’t discontinued this one. I believe that Theorema will still be available in Italy, but it is no longer marketed to the U.S. Theorema is pure Italy, from the Rubicon down to the Mediterranean and Ionian Seas. You can smell the citrus orchards, the chocolate vendors, the creamy gelatos, the beautiful woods. Truly warm and cozy, it’s a voluptuously seductive scent that is luxurious without being overpowering. The bottle is cleverly designed to mimic a Fendi handbag. A scent that reminds me of Autumn and the approaching holidays, Theorema shouldn’t be limited to just those cooler times of the year, not if applied lightly. Still available now and then on eBay and a few Internet etailers. Theorema is similar to Ferre 20, only with a citrus punch. If you like one, you’d like the other. Sad to see you go, Theorema. Farewell, dear friend.

I like many of Dominique Ropion’s creations, and Aimez Moi is no exception. This one is so unique, it’s just marvelous. There is nothing on the market that even comes close, as far as I know. It’s a candied violet ramped up with a sweet anise note balanced on a base of rich woods, tonka bean, vanilla, clove, and amber. Aimez Moi is like being in the kitchen when Mama is whipping up one of her delicious, sugary confections, and Papa is reading his newspaper while smoking his sweet pipe tobacco. On some women, this fragrance can become very sweet. Happily, on my skin it is just right. The pure parfum form is not much different than the EDT, if at all. Both are long lasting and are a perfect harmony of sweetness and darkness without being too much of either. Warm, sweet, enticing, and spicy, Aimez Moi is a worthy successor to its mother scent, Daltroff’s beautiful N’Aimez Que Moi.

My son generally loves everything his mama wears. Even Mitsouko. That is, he loves everything except D&G Light Blue. Every time I try this, he screws up his nose and says, “what is this? Poison?” And, ahem, he doesn’t mean Christian Dior’s brand of Poison, either. He means poison as in skulls and crossbones. I don’t think it’s as bad as that, but it’s one I rarely ever wear. My first experience with Light Blue came last Fall when I spritzed some on in a dept store. I was very pleased with the opening notes, especially. Very reminiscent of those luscious notes that open Lanvin’s Eclat d’Arpege. But that’s where the fun ends. After that Light Blue gets heavier and heavier on my skin until I about can’t stand it. Thing is, when I tried it in the dept store, the opening and the drydown were both nice enough that I later purchased a mini to try out at home. Well, my subsequent experiences with Light Blue have not been all that positive, and, according to my son, not positive at all. Still, I’m giving this a neutral because too many women pull this off quite nicely. But it’s a bit heavy for my tastes.

Base Notes is the only place I’ve seen which identifies the nose behind Lauder’s Beautiful as Sophia Grojsman. This makes sense, though, since the same super-molecule that fuels Calvin Klein’s Eternity is the same super-molecule that revs up Beautiful’s engines, and because Grosjman developed Eternity, I had wondered if she is the nose behind Beautiful. I frankly like Beautiful and have worn it for almost 2 decades. I like the EDP best when layered over the perfumed body cream. The body cream alone is gorgeous. Beautiful isn’t particularly sexy or sensual, but it is very pretty and very feminine without being overly sweet on my skin. I’ve always liked the rush of fruits and wildflowers that tumble down during its opening before dissolving into the musky base. Beautiful is a romantic fragrance and has become a real classic. Deservedly so.

After a too-long dry spell, Oxygene was the House of Lanvin's foray back into the perfume world. Oxygene is the only ozone type fragrance I even consider wearing. On my skin it has a pronounced note that is akin to celery, but I’ll take that over the aqueous freesia+burned melons note I smell in way too many frags today. I detect sandalwood, musk, and maybe a touch of pepper. Oxygene is often classified as a floral aldehyde. That seems too broad of a description, especially when you consider that Arpege is a floral aldehyde, and Arpege and Oxygene are about as far apart as you can get. A more apt classification would be an ozonic floral, or something of that nature. Oxygene is a crisp, cool scent, perfect for sports or outside wear. Not something I’d necessarily wear in the evening, though some may be able to pull it off. The box is blue, the juice is blue, and bottle is architectural. A very nice offering from Lanvin. I’ve never smelled the men’s version of Oxygene, but the women’s version seems that it could be worn easily by woman or man.

Fred Hayman’s 273 is pretty typical of fragrances from the 1980s. It’s big, and it’s unmistakable. Just a dab will do you with this one. I personally don’t wear it very often because of the overwhelming peach note that smells like someone shoved my nose into a big bowl of peach Jell-O. There’s a gourmand peach molecule, such as you find in Mitsouko, and there’s a peach Jell-O molecule, such as you find here. The formulation for 273 would have been much better, in my opinion, if the developer would have kept the peach only in the top notes (273 has a double peach note---both in the top and middle notes) and have kept it muted at that. Still, some women carry this off nicely. I remember when it came out how awfully expensive it was. It’s now very affordable on most Internet etailers. Interestingly enough, I recently sampled Brittany Spear’s Curious. My first thought was that it is very similar to 273. If you like peach bouquets, you’ll like 273, and probably Curious, too.

Luca Turin gives Tocade a “heart” in his perfume guide, but oh, my, I can’t tolerate this one at all. On my skin it smells like something you might clean your floors with. An orange-scented floor cleaner with an extra helping of ammonia because you need to scrub those scuff marks your son's shoes left on the linoleum. And the bad thing is is that Tocade just doesn’t fade on my skin. After hours of wearing it, it’s still hanging in there, as strong and obnoxious as ever. I will say that the bottle is nice and cute. I know Tocade has its devotees, and that’s the way it should be. If we all liked the same things, the fragrance buffet would be awfully small, and what fun is that.

Unfortunately, I’ve never had the opportunity to try Joy in the pure parfum form. My undestanding is that the parfum is far superior to either the EDP or EDT formulations. Let’s start with the EDP first. Rancid. And that’s putting it nicely. I have a full bottle of this stuff and was trying to use it up as a room spray. One day I spritzed some into the air, then a little while later my husband came along and asked who “did it.” I wanted to respone, "Jean Patou," but I didn't think he'd get the joke. Is someone at Patou listening? You need to do better by this classic with a faithful representation in the EDP, or just withdraw it altogether. Wearing the Joy EDP is like having someone in your face who has a major case of poopy breath, and you can smell a waft of her rose cologne coming at you now and then. The EDT is measurably better. It has a questionable note that makes you think the water in your vase of flowers might need to be refreshed, but at least it doesn’t have that overpoweringly fetid hangtime that the EDP has. Even though I despise the EDP and find the EDT only tolerable, I’m willing to give this a neutral rating based on the testimony of others who have found the pure parfum to be stunningly gorgeous.

Or et Noir (“Gold and Black”) is another of those wonderful Caron urn fragrances. I had read that Or et Noir provided the backdrop for Caron’s Parfum Sacre. However, I smell little similarity between the two scents. Or et Noir is not an oriental-spicy like Parfum Sacre, but instead is a lovely rose with a tinge of green and a good dose of wine. It’s a deeply colored rose with a wine note that is predominant on my skin for some time. This perfume was designed by Michel Morsetti and is similar in many ways to Caron’s Rose parfum but with enough differences (such as the green and then the wine note minus the geranium which appears in the opening of the Rose parfum) that justify it being a different creation. Morsetti is said to have formulated Or et Noir from Ernest Daltroff’s notes; it seems to have that famously rich and creamy Daltroff base which makes the older Carons so sumptuous. If you like rose scents, you’ll like this one. Or et Noir is said to be something of a chameleon in the way it transforms itself on each wearer. Very hard to find outside of the Caron Boutiques. Now and then it shows up on eBay. If you like classic rose fragrances, don’t pass up an opportunity to try this one.

Farnesiana’s opening is rather strange on my skin. It’s like someone wrapped me in marzipan and Play-Doh and then locked me in a musty basement. But after a time, the fragrance mellows and what’s left is what the Caron web site calls a maternal, sweet vapor trail. That’s accurate. The trick for this one (at least, as far as my chemistry goes) is to let it cook a while on your skin. I’ve never had opportunity to smell Luctor et Emergo by POTL, but I’ve read that it is reminiscent of Farnesiana in many ways. Maybe Farnesiana was ahead of its time. Opening notes are blackcurrant, mimosa, and almond. The almond is fairly heavy at first. The middle notes are violet, lily, and lilac; these seem to stay in the background for the most part. The base notes are quite nice and what give Farnesiana its lasting charm: vanilla, sandalwood, and musk. Farnesiana is available in pure parfum, EDT, and EDP. This review is for the pure parfum.

Narcisse Noir was one of the most important fragrances developed in the early part of the 20th century. Another masterful creation by Caron’s founder Ernest Daltroff, Narcisse Noir is a heady, sensual floral with oriental undertones. It lingers on the skin for a long time, so don’t over-apply this one. In other words, you don’t want Narcisse Noir to enter the room before you do. If you’ve tried this and dismissed it off-hand, consider giving it another try. Sometimes classics like this one need more than one airing before the wearer gets a good handle on what the fragrance does with her chemistry. The orange blossom and Persian black narcissus accord linger long after the spices in the base emerge. What Gloria Swanson’s character in Sunset Boulevard wore. For the confident woman who likes baroque things. No shrinking violets need apply.

GFF Donna (also known as GFF F) is a recent favorite. This smells so fabulously delicious, it’s hard to believe that no one knows about it, and even harder to understand why Gianfranco Ferre goes to all the trouble to develop some wonderful fragrances, yet doesn’t seem to do much to market them. Maybe he really does in Europe, but in the States, his frags seem to be relative unknowns. GFF Donna opens with a crisp rush of Hesperides, and, my, are they marvelous. Balanced with a green note, the lemon, bergamot, lavender, and clary sage give way to the heart notes of jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, freesia, cardamom and cinnamon while patchouli, sandalwood, honey, hawthorn, vanilla, tonka bean and cedar anchor the whole composition. I detect honeysuckle as well, and in fact, GFF Donna makes me feel like a honeybee who has happily buzzed into a citrus orchard in full bloom, surrounded by copious honeysuckle vines. GFF Donna is similar to Arpege but with the citrus (orange) and honeysuckle notes revved up. Wear it to play tennis in the morning, and in the evening spritz again before dinner at the Ritz ---it’s that divinely versatile. Elegance with a smile.

Demi-Jour is a light and pleasant fragrance from Houbigant. I like this one for a few reasons. It came out shortly after my husband and I got married, and while it took me a while to discover Demi-Jour, I like the fact that its launch occurred while my husband and I were newlyweds. The bottle is an exquisite cut glass Victorian design; sometimes a nice bottle doesn’t mean a thing, and sometimes an ugly bottle might house some delicious juice. Nonetheless, Demi-Jour’s bottle is gorgeous, and the juice on the inside really is nice. I like the fact that this is from Houbigant, a house that has fallen from its previous glory, but a house with an undeniably rich history; and lastly, I like Demi-Jour because it’s a light and pretty floral with a nice aldehydic ping and an appealing zing of green. D-J reminds me quite a bit of Quelques Fleurs, but Demi-Jour works better with my chemistry. Encyclopedia of World Perfume classifies Demi-Jour as a floral-chypre, whilst others categorize it as a floral aldehyde. It seems to be both. The chypre oakmoss is evident in the drydown, while the violet, hyacinth and rose seem to predominate in the heart. My understanding is that this has been discontinued. However, it still seems to be readily available from etailers and eBay and is a relatively inexpensive “cheap thrill.” Available in both EDP and parfum strengths. My preference is the EDP because it has brighter notes.

Halloween. With such a tantalizing name, this juice should fall somewhere between Guerlain’s Mitsouko and Caron’s Poivre. It doesn’t. In a word: YUCK. H’ween has the same bothersome note I smell in too many of the cookie-cutter fragrances on the market today. It’s a watery freesia/ozonic note that not only is unappealing to me, but seems to get stronger on my skin as time passes. I smell this same note in fragrances such as Arden’s Provocative Woman, Herrera’s Chic, Kenneth Cole New York, Boss Woman, and most of the “sheers” available. Del Pozo put the same note in his Duende, only thankfully it’s much more muted there. Sorry if you like Halloween, but I can’t brook that overweening aquatic note. To quote Dr Seuss: stink, stank, STUNK.

N’aimez Que Moi, launched in 1916 and one of the select urn fragrances of Parfums Caron, opens with a little rose, a little violet and with what smells like a lot of citronella. But hang in there. As this perfume (available only in pure extrait form from Caron Boutiques and a select few dept stores and etailers) develops, that magnificent Daltroff accord begins to shine through, and what’s left is a delectable heart of creamy spiciness balanced with a chypre note that is just wonderful; it's worth the wait. The base of cedar, amber, vanilla and sandalwood along with the candied appeal of violet, iris and rose makes N’aimez Que Moi a worthy classic. According to the Caron web site, N’aimez Que Moi (“Love Only Me”) was developed during WWI as a way to boost morale among soldiers and the beloved wives and fiancees they left behind----“A true pledge of faithfulness, young soldiers gave this perfume to their betrothed so that they would renew their vows of love daily until the day when victory came.” Just as Guerlain scents its face powders with the fragrance that became Meteorites, so Caron scents (or did, at any rate) its face powders with N’aimez Que Moi. Delicate and beautiful.

Arpege is one of the Holy Grails of the perfume world. This fragrance immediately diffuses from the skin because of its aldehydic nature. These aldehydes provide Arpege with its famous “ping.” Andre Fraysse designed Arpege to have a classical structure: the perfume is a harmonious symphony with distinct movements evident throughout. Arpege opens with a lovely overture of bergamot, neroli, and peach. The heart notes of jasmine, lily of the valley, rose, ylang-ylang, coriander, clove, orris and tuberose come to the fore and perform there for some time until the warm closing movement of patchouli, musk, sandalwood, vetiver, vanilla, benzoin and styrax provide the final spicy notes which accent the fragrance’s rich elegance. Arpege is available in pure parfum, EDP, and EDT. The EDT is quite nice and a bit softer than the EDP. A word of warning---avoid Arpege in the mini size. The sour juice in the mini version is not indicative of the classy juice in the full sized bottle. A correspondent from Europe recently reports that the minis she received in an Arpege gift set have the same sourness that mine here in the States have. That having been said, Arpege is a grand perfume, designed with the elegant woman of any age in mind. All class, all elegance, all Woman. What the Muses on Olympus wore.

Recently Crabtree and Evelyn decided they “had” to re-jig the juice of the original Evelyn, a luscious rose scent. The newer version, called Evelyn Rose, is still nice, but inferior to the original. In the newer Evelyn Rose the peach note is more predominant, and the exquisite woodsy-musky drydown is all but gone. In fact, I can’t even detect it. The bottle is the same, though the box and name have been changed. I wish C&E would bring back the original. Still, Evelyn Rose is a lovely rose bouquet and would be a nice addition to any rose lover's collection.

The original Evelyn is one of the finest rose fragrances in my collection. Formulated in partnership with English rosarian David Austin, Evelyn replicated the scent of Austin’s own Evelyn rose thanks to headspace technology new at that time. The original Evelyn was a superb rose scent with a hint of peach and a marvelously enticing woodsy, musky drydown which rendered it peerless among your typical rose perfumes. Unfortunately, just recently C&E decided they had to re-jig the formula. Why, I don’t know. But I wish they hadn’t. The newer formula (see my review there) has so muted that exquisite woodsiness in the drydown that I can’t even smell it. There are still a few older bottles of the original Evelyn around. Snag one if you can.

Nuit de Noel remains one of Ernest Daltroff’s masterpieces. Available in both EDT and pure parfum, NdN is truly worthy of the term classic. The EDT opens with lovely, bright notes which are like twinkling lights on a Christmas tree, or like the tinkle of jingle bells. There’s a rosy note which makes its way to the forefront, then the drydown is that incredible Saxon Moss which makes this perfume so rich. Saxon Moss consists of geranium, licorice, leather, iodine and vanillin. The sum total of the citrus notes in the opening, the Saxon Moss, oakmoss, rose, orris, sandalwood and jasmine makes for a smooth fragrance which develops seamlessly from one stage to the next. Warm, cozy, and with touches of a subtle smokiness here and there; this is the sugarplums dancing around in the heads of the children in The Night Before Christmas. The extrait form of Nuit de Noel is richer and deeper than the EDT, though the ultimate drydown is the same. Both are very fine and are wonderful used together or alone. Nuit de Noel is a quietly provocative scent. It’s said to be reminiscent of the Roaring ‘20s, and while the smoky note might conjure images of furs, long tipped cigarettes and a jazz club, I find NdN to be very comforting and contemplative.

There are very few fragrances to which I have a negative physical reaction. I’m sorry to report that Coco is in that dreadful minority. You see, every time I apply this scent, my stomach does acrobatics. Not good. Coco is too close in smell to a strong cough medicine we used as kids. It was over the counter, but because of a particular ingredient, it’s been outlawed. Maybe that ingredient was turpentine (!), because that’s what Coco reminds me of. Cough syrup with turpentine, and it doesn’t seem to fade on my skin at all. The descriptions of Coco are always so enticing---baroque, spicy, warm, flamboyant. But to my nose it’s none of those. It’s just old cough syrup. I have less than a dram left, and I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see it evaporate. Just can’t wear this one, though Coco is very popular and well loved. It’s just not for me.

Ferre 20 is a marvelously wonderful fragrance released by Gianfranco Ferre in ’98. This one is so nice, it’s hard to believe that Mr Ferre does nothing to market his fragrances. Okay, maybe he makes the effort in Europe. I don’t know that he does or doesn’t, but here in the States his frags are virtually unknown. Of the scents from his house, Ferre 20 and GFF Donna (also known as GFF F) are my favorites. Ferre 20 is elegant and sophisticated and versatile and is a scent I return to again and again. It’s not for girlies, but it’s not a scent that needs to cook on your skin, either. What you smell during the opening notes is what you get, and what you get is this—Ferre 20 opens with Calabrian bergamot, mandarin, and blackberry. Shortly thereafter the middle notes of Bulgarian rose, jasmine and iris of Florence emerge, while the base notes of vanilla, Mysore sandalwood, musk, and Virginia cedarwood round out the whole. Sound good? It is. It’s a smooth, seamless fragrance which strikes a delightfully happy medium between darkness and light and between sweetness and richness. Never cloying or overpowering, Ferre 20 goes from daytime to evening without a hitch. Well balanced, artful, and tantalizing. Elegance in a bottle. Always makes the top five in my favorites list.

SMS opens with delicate pear and pineapple balanced with natural freesia. Yes, pineapple. If your bottle is old, you may not be able to detect it, but it should be there. It’s a fleeting molecule, so you need to be sniffing immediately upon application to detect the note. A delectable floral accord of jasmine, heliotrope, narcissus, and orange blossom follows, while the base is warmed by sandalwood, musk, amber, and vanilla. I’ve watched Sun Moon Stars go from the upperline dept stores, to the JCPenneys, and now to the drug stores. I can only hope it’s become an underground cult classic. Some love it, some hate it, but its adherents are loyal users like myself; I have been a fan of SMS since its introduction in 1994. What attracted me is the soft, natural freesia sillage, unlike the watery freesia note I smell in too many of the newer scents. The bottle is a beautiful boule bleue with sun, moon, and stars in relief. A lighter version of Grojsman’s Eternity, which she designed for Calvin Klein, SMS is evocative and tenacious. Cozy.

Released in 2003 by the House of Lanvin, Eclat d’Arpege was designed with the modern woman in mind. The boule bottle is back in action with Eclat, and the color of the fragrance is an incredibly gorgeous lavender color. Eclat d'Arpege opens with a sparkle of zesty,
effervescent lilac leaves and Sicilian lemon leaves. Its heart is rounded out with green tea, wisteria, peach blossoms, red peony, and Chinese osmanthus, while cedar of Lebanon, musk and amber fuel the total mélange. Eclat is light and floral from beginning to end; some of its opening notes may remind one of D&G's Lt Blue, but whereas Lt Blue goes through a transformation from light to heavy, Eclat retains its delightful demeanor throughout; it's a true soprano. Some complain that the notes of Eclat are fleeting; apply some of the Eclat perfumed body lotion before applying the fragrance, and it will anchor the EDP. Ethereal. Feminine. Bright and cheery as a clear spring day.

Unfortunately, I’ve run across a Caron I can’t wear. Alpona. And what a disappointment it is, too. The opening is nice enough---a rush of spritely Hesperides which are delightfully pleasant. But it’s downhill from there. This is what Alpona smells like on my skin---3 parts Ralph Lauren’s Polo (which I’ve always liked, BTW, just not here), 2 parts isopropyl alchohol, 1 part camphor, and 1 part pine resin. I can't smell anything of that chypre accord that's supposed to be there. See what I mean? Alpona takes my nose hairs and does judo with them. No, thanks. Maybe this would smell better on my husband. I think I’ll let him have my Alpona and see what his chemistry does with it. This is the least womanly Caron I’ve smelled. I’d hate to give it a thumbs down, though, since it is a venerable fragrance. Glad I have the neutral, “meh” option.

I’ll be honest here. I’m not in love with the opening of Tabac Blond. It’s rather dark and oily smelling on my skin. The isobutyl quinoline which makes up the leather note isn’t terrible, just not my favorite. However, I know the classic Carons and Guerlains well enough to know that you have to give these juices time to do their thing with your individual chemistry. Give Tabac Blond about 2 hours, and after the leather steps aside a bit, well, it’s just va-va-va-VOOM. The clove-like carnation nudges its way forward and makes room for a little jasmine, cedar, and oakmoss. Exquisite, sensual, and voluptuously golden. Tabac Blond is indicative of Daltroff’s genius in the way it melds seamlessly from stage to stage. Dawn Spencer Hurwitz must be a fabulous perfumer in her own right; Tabac Blond reminds me of something she would do. TB’s heart is similar to the DSH accord which marks her frags. If you’ve read Luca Turin’s profile of the Tabac Blond wearer, and it doesn’t seem to fit you, it doesn’t mean you won’t like TB. I’m neither dikey nor do I drive fast or smoke cigars, and I love this one anyway. One thing’s for sure. Tabac Blond isn’t for the faint of heart. But you don’t have to be a cigar smoking, fast driving maniac to pull it off.

En Avion, next to Poivre, is my favorite of the Caron urn fragrances. The Caron Boutique in NYC has a wonderful sample program for U.S. residents, and a few etailers (and sometimes eBay) stock En Avion. It’s one of the easier urn frags to find. En Avion opens with a lovely rush of orange blossom and something that reminds me of leather, but not the deep, dark leather of Tabac Blond (another great classic), but a tawny beige, plush leather. The classic Carons need some time to develop on the skin. En Avion is no different. The drydown is simply beautiful and womanly. It’s a lovely powdery orange blossom mixed with woods, a touch of violet, subtle spices, and the oakmoss that seems to part of the famous Daltroff accord. The extrait is pure Art Deco elegance. This one will always find a place in my fragrance repertoire. Soar to celestial heights with En Avion.

Whereas Guerlain’s Meteorites is a lusciously sweet violet, Caron’s Violette Precieuse is a richly luxurious, creamy fragrance. This is a violet jewel mounted with deep emeralds. Absolutely wonderful; a miniature work of art. A way to dress up without dressing up at all. In and out of production since its first release in 1913, this one has recently been discontinued by Parfums Caron yet again. One can only hope they’ll reconsider and re-release it in the future. Violette Precieuse sweetens on the skin as time passes. Lemon, orris, and vanilla illumine the notes of violet and emerald. Delicate and compelling at the same time. Marvelous.

Apres L’Ondee (“After the Rain Shower”) is another abstract offering from the House of Guerlain. First released in 1906, Apres L’Ondee is a rare and hard to find fragrance, one which Guerlain has done little to promote, even though the juice has a distinguished following. It’s a thinking woman’s fragrance and not for the Paris Hilton wannabes. Apres L'Ondee is almost like the release you feel after a good cry or a hearty laugh. It's an amazing fragrance. Difficult to classify, because even though this is a floral, it has a chypre base which contributes to its unique charm. Top notes of bergamot and aniseed give way to cool violet, hawthorn, and almond-scented heliotrope, all of which are enveloped by the base notes of orris, musk, amber. Another skin scent with a cerebral quality. Think Garbo.

First released in 1919, Mitsouko (Japanese for “mystery”) opens with a zing of peach, bergamot, and something that smells like leather. This abstract fragrance needs two to three hours to cook on your skin. Don’t decide if you like this one right away; give it time to transform itself with your chemistry. It may take three or four tests for you to decide if it works for you. Mitsouko becomes a true skin scent as it develops on the skin. The woody, chypre drydown is like being in a thick forest during Autumn---vetiver, oakmoss, cinnamon, amber. Very French, very voluptuous, and with an enticing sensual sillage. Many have tried to copy this one, but Mitsouko yields its place to no other fragrance. One of the jewels of the House of Guerlain. It’s Woman. All Golden.

A limited edition EDT released by the House of Guerlain in 2000, Meteorites is a shower of violets on a powdery base. It has the same “Guerlinade” accord that mark the fragrances from the House of Guerlain, but in Meteorites that accord is very subdued. This is a very feminine floral, sweet but not cloying or trite. A shame it’s been discontinued. It’s just plain PRETTY, so while there's still a limited stock out there, go smell it .

Released in 1992, Parfum Sacre’ is unique in that it is a subtle oriental-spicy frag. Unlike its many predecessors, Parfum Sacre’ is never an “in-your-face” scent, but stays close to the skin very elegantly and subtly. In other words, it doesn't enter the building before you do!! The spicy top notes of pepper, cinnamon, and clove segue into a rich floral heart anchored with a base of precious myrrh, musk, amber, and vanilla. Timeless. A true classic.