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Happy May Day!

Lily of the Valley

It is May 1st, and I'm wearing Diorissimo extrait to celebrate whatever this day is supposed to stand for; but more personally because it's a lily of the valley scent that I have a strong personal connection with. I worn it on my wedding day, and to me it will always symbolized non-compromised happiness. Besides, I believe it's one of the best perfumes every made (alongside others by Edmond Roudnitska: Le Parfum de Therese, Eau Sauvage and a few Guerlain classics - Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit, Shalimar, l'Herue Bleue) that are reclining comofrtably in a special case dedicated for emergency evacuation); but also because I don't own any other lily of the valley fragrance.

There are some great Lily of the Valley classics that I owe it to myself to wear and experience and give more proper attention - Coty's Muguet de Bois, Caron's Muguet de Bonheur Guerlan's Muguet. If you have more lily of the valley perfumes that you think are exceptional, please leave a comment. The note used to be far more popular as a stand-alone theme in the olden days; but it lost popularity greatly because of its functional fragrance usage - namely masking the stench of the French metro systems; and other bathroom fresheners, soaps and the like. Basenotes only lists about 27 perfumes with the name "Muguet" in them; and 25 with the word "Lily of the Valley". Not insignificant, but not even close to how popular rose or jasmine themed perfumes are. Many of them have also been discontinued, a sign that this note belongs to another era. There are other lily of the valley dominated perfumes, of course, such as the classic Joy and the more modern musky floral Idyle. So I'm sure we won't be running out of lilies anytime soon... And there are even natural lily of the valley inspired perfumes, such as Urban Lily and Grin.

Most of the other less worthy of mention are sitting in my sample catalog pretty much untouched, and I revisit them occasionally only to come to the conclusion time and again that really Diorissimo is my true love. There can be a very conformist, agreeable yet boring air to them and a very flat, interest-lacking evolution. I am quite certain that should there have been a little extra jasmine absolute and rose otto in them to give them depth and naturalness they would have faired better - in my personal wardrobe, SmellyBlog entries, as well as sales wise. i.e.: Muguet Eau Fraiche (Yves Rochas) is a soapy clean, with modern musks and Iso E Super that bring to mind Thierry Mugler's Cologne of all things. Crabtree & Evelyn's Lily of the Valley, which comes in all the matching ancillary products from body lotion, triple-milled white soap to scented talcum powders - has been promptly returned to the store because it just has no personality whatsoever - flat, synthetic molecules with plenty of headiness and little staying power. Yardley's wasn't much better off. All three were to me what you'd call "scrubbers".

Muguet de Bois (Coty, circa 1949), on the other hand, requires some immediate attention on this beautiful warm spring day: It opens up sparkling and refreshing, with notes of lemonade and fresh-crushed green leaves. It has a fully developed heart phase that's definitely lily, but not just that: it is a tad spicy and more rounded floral than how I experience the fresh lily of the valley flowers to be. I detect resinous styrax and lilac, rose and hints of jasmine. The "Bois" (or woods) part is subdued, and is interpreted as a woody base of sandalwood and musk.

Paloma's Corner: Vintage Coty Parfum de Toilette Set

Vintage Coty Parfum de Toilette set
Today, the long-awaited coffret of .5oz Parfum de Toilette arrived in the mail (if the concentration title confuses you, scroll over to Perfume Shrine, that helped clear out the mystery). Completely out of character, I didn't rip the package open till I got home (I usually spend the short walk from the post office to home absentmindedly crossing streets as my nose is plugged to a vial of this or that, if not to my wrist...).

Just as I expected, the packaging was a bit on the tacky side: clear plastic sleeve to showcase the 4 beaus, nestled in a bonbon-like golden box (the kind that would rotate around and around as "gifts" until someone dares to open them on a pathetic chocolate-craving moment only to find inside very stale, blooming chocolates filled with syrupy liquor...). The box is lined with black faux-velvet that has dents for each bottle.

But, to my delight, unlike a stale bonbon, each bottle was in pristine condition, and more importantly - the contents are as bright as ever, as if they were still fresh. Someone must have kept them very well - away from heat, moisture and light. I'm still trying to discover the estimated date for these beauties. I have a feeling they're from the late 70's or early 80's (especially knowing that one of them was not launched till 1965 or 1966 - it can't be earlier than that). Just based on the packaging and how fresh they still smell. Only one of the bottles had part of the splash lid stuck to the mouth of the bottle (which was easily fixed).

But packaging and recent perfume history aside, I'm sure you're more interested in what was in them. The quartet includes Emeraude (1921), l'Aimant (1927), Imprévu (1965) and l'Origan (1905). I got them because they were a really great price, and these classic can't hurt to have around (even though, from my rough perfume-head count this morning, I have at least 104 bottles, if I count all the flacons and parfum extrait minis - but not count other minis... Or samples... Ahum).

Emeraude and I met before, in a thrift store, and it's very much like Shalimar, from the bottle at least. l'Aimant is intensely floral aldehydic in a way that would make No. 5 feel less lonely. Imprevu was a pleasant surprise - very light and woodsy and musky, which prompted me to apply it almost immediately (more on that later). And l'Origan smells a little aromatic but also candy-sweet, along the lines of l'Heure Bleue.

I'm excited to have something to do on such a rainy day (because, clearly, unpacking all my raw materials for my perfume making class on Sunday is "not enough work", not to mention the other trip I have to make to the post office, to ship packages & thank-you gifts and SmellyBlog prizes off). Great distractions, I suppose. But that's what makes life all the more interesting!

Paloma’s Corner: Vintage Chypre by Coty

A couple of years ago Paloma, a fine lady from the Perfume Addicts forum, sent me a gift of a lifetime: about 30 or so samples of rare vintage perfumes. To her this corner is dedicated, and I am hoping to be able to live up to the challenge of decoding the mysteries of these antique beauties.

Finding vintage Chypre by Coty at the midst of the stash was a dream come true. My unconditional love for chypres is infamous. My most favourite perfumes of all are chypres – Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit, Femme, Miss Dior… In fact, I love composing Chypres just as much as I love wearing them. The basic materials for Chypre compositions rely heavily on naturals (some of them restricted or even banned), including oakmoss, bergamot, patchouli, and my love of all times (yes, since skipping on the rocky and thorny hills with wild goats as a 4 year old): Labdanum. The behaviour of these building blocks is nothing shorter than magical. They transform other building blocks into a different realm, and so they do with the soul of the person who wears and smells them.

So it is no surprise that I have taken this precious sample with me on my trip. And it is no surprise that a few minutes after wearing this and starting to write my little essay about Chypre, my grandmother came in the door, and told me how wonderful I smell. When I told her what it was, I was soon informed that it was the scent of her departed mother – this and 4711 were the two she always worn. So I can proudly conclude that the love for Chypre runs in my family for the 4th generation – we are devoted to this genre since its very intention, as my great grandmother must have been a young lady when it was launched.

But my chypre bias put aside, smelling Chypre after digging through the stash, and more so, wearing it on my skin, is akin to searching for treasures in my grandmother’s treasure box she kept for us on a high shelf as children. Besides a stuffed lioness and a white seal which she kept from my baby-days, it was full of fancy fake jewelry and exotic beaded necklaces made of dyed tropical seeds and carved wood. Along with a couple of empty perfume bottles, this was sure to occupy me for hours. One of the empty flacons was Judith Miller’s signature scent, in a Biblical-inspired swirled-brownish gold glass bottle with a long neck. Altogether, this smelled like Coty’s Chypre which rests on my wrist this very moment.

There is something mysterious and delicate and muted about vintage scents. They are never cloying, and the scents are so well married to one another after years of living together in the same bottle, that it is far more difficult than before to discern the notes from one another. To begin with, Chypres possess the phenomenal quality of sucking in all the notes and transforming them in such a way that they are highly disguised and hardly separated from one another. This is due to the unusual characteristics of both oakmoss and labdanum.

In vintage Chypre, the sharpness of sage calms down after marrying for years with jasmine, roses, oakmoss, labdanum, patchouli and bergamot. There is something magical about sage that makes it soft and plump as a peach after it has been fully matured surrounded by those elements. Although bergamot is known for its importance in Chypre compositions, and this is what made Chypre the special and groundbreaking perfume it is – do not expect to find a citrus bergamot top note in this perfume. The bergamot serves as a counterpart to the mossy and earthy base, only to complement its sweetness and uplift the deep base notes. The top notes are more aldehydic than anything else. Chypre possesses the old fashioned softness that became the trademark of many a French perfumes to come. If Chypre is not the first chypre composition you ever smelled, you will probably not be knocked off your feet. But dlest we forget: this IS the first one. And that is where the genius of Chypre lies. Without it there would be no Mitsouko, Femme, Vol de Nuit, Miss Dior, Eau Sauvage, Le Parfum de Therese, Chant d’Aromes, Ma Griffe, Jolie Madam, Cuir de Russie, Private Collection, Paloma Picasso, No. 19, Christal, and the list goes on and on. Chypre is perhaps the single most versatile fragrance family that there is.

Upon application, Chypre is a gentle yet powderful aldehydic floral with hints of green sage and thyme. It softens to reveal a floral and somewhat soapy heart of jasmine and rose and a warmth of spice that is very subdued (only warmth, no sharpness). The quiet and persistent waves of oakmoss and labdanum gradually wash the shores with a sweet mossy earthiness that is only slightly honeyed and animalistic. As it softens further, it becomes more woody with a hint of well aged patchouli which never overpowers this balanced garden of Mediterranean aromas refined to become the definition of classic French perfumery.

Top notes: Sage, Thyme, Bergamot
Heart notes: Jasmine, Rose, Spices
Base notes: Oakmoss, Labdanum, Patchouli, Civet

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