I have always intended to review Paris in a larger context of a feature series about Sophia Grojsman and her (many) roses. There is perhaps no other perfumer who uses roses so often and in such a distinct manner as she does. So this is by no means going to be the last time Paris will be mentioned in SmellyBlog. Hopefully, by the time I’ll write about it next I would have actually been to the city and could draw from my own personal experience rather than that of books I’ve read and movies I’ve watched.

YSL Paris is the Paris of everybody fantasies. It’s the Paris Carrie Bradshaw hopes to fulfill a true love in before she learns how lonely can beauty be (especially when you don’t know the language and your lover is a selfish Russian painter that looks like a ballet dancer); it’s the Paris that Parisians criticized was too fluffy and pretty in the film Amelie. You will not, however, find any of the darkness and romantic idealistic poverty of Les Miserables or the conspiracies of The Black Tulip. If that’s what you are looking for, you will be better off overdosing on Rive Gauche; or many other French perfumes that I can think of but don’t have room to list here.

Paris is pink, pretty, and rosy. It’s a day without a cloud and love without quarrels. It’s too good to be true. And that’s because it is a fantasy, thought up by a Russian perfumer for the most Parisian and French couturier alive at the time. There probably isn’t any better house to have made a perfume of that name. And this is also probably the most popular from this house.




Paris has Grojsman’s signature rose-peach- vanilla -violet accord. It opens bright and clear, with sheer citrus and peach and while it is sweet it is certainly not as sweet as other perfumes from that genre (i.e.: Bvlgari, Nahema, Tresor). There is something just a little more lighthearted about it. As the brightness of rose bergamot and peach dissipate, the more powdery aspects of rose take over, backed up with violet and the seductive vanillic whispers of heliotropin. As sweet as the base may be, it still has that dry edge to it, from woody notes of cedar and sandalwood. After a couple of hours of wearing, Paris becomes smoother again, this time developing a hint of wet-petal texture, the rosy sweetness tampered with a certain coolness (perhaps the mimosa?). The last breaths of Paris are redolent of dead roses whose life preserved in a glass coffin filled with amber and musk.

Paris may be too pretty for my style and taste, but it sure can put a smile on my face.

Top notes: Bergamot, Geranium, hawthorn, Hyacinth
Heart notes: Mimosa, Rose, Violet, Lily of the valley
Base notes: Cedar, Sandal, Heliotrope, Amber

Violets have been long regarded for their delicate and sublime aroma. Although for the most part they are considered a shy, lady-like scent and are associated with Victorian times, when violets were most popular in history. Violets are also considered aphrodisiacs – though usually a “proper” and “well mannered” aphrodisiac. There is a hidden darkness and duskiness about violets that does not come through in all violet fragrances.

A quick visit to the most infamous violet scents will lead to the conclusion that there are no two violets that are the same. There are some green ones – such as Verte Violette, Ormonde and Viola; There are powdery ethereal ones such as Apres l’Ondee, and there are others that are sweet and floral with no question about their violetness, such as Violetta and Meteorites (a Guerlain limited edition).

The differences lays with the fact that the part of the plant that is used commercially is the leaves. However, the nostalgic scent that was so prized in Victorian times was the flowers themselves. These are sweet and powdery at once and quite unusual; Their unmistakable scent is very delicate – in fact, almost invisible in the fresh flowers themselves. Since violet flowers are for the most part man made compounds, the interpretations are limitless, ranging from powdery to green, floral and even gourmand-like, inspired by candied violets.

Violet Flower Absolute
Although violet flowers can be distilled into an absolute, the process is labour intense and non-cost-effective. When I use violet flower note in my perfumes, it is a compound made if various oils that are rich in ionone - such as orris root, violet leaf absolute, boronia along with other floral oils or absolutes to round off the accord and give it a soft flowery impression.

Violet Leaf Absolute
This dark green liquid from the violet leaves smells cool and green, just like cucumber. When diluted, it exposes its powdery and floral characteristics, rather than leafy green.

Boronia Absolute
Boronia comes from the shores of Tasmania, and is one of the most precious absolutes. It contains a lot of ionone – a key component in violet and orris. It has undertones reminiscent of sandalwood and hay, a yellow freesia and violet like body and a slightly fruity, almost like cassis and apricot top notes. More than anything else – it is reminiscent of fresh yellow freesias - fruity, green and spicy all at once.

Orris Butter
Orris has an important role in the creation of violet flower compounds. As much as orris root butter is expensive – it is far more cost effective than harvesting violet flower absolute. Along with chemicals from the ionone family, it helps to duplicate the delicate scent of violet flowers.

Lavender
Besides its innumerable roles in perfumery and aromatherapy alike, lavender has affiliation with violets. It is floral, herbaceous, powdery and sweet all at once and also, well, purple. The softness and warmth of lavender promotes the powderiness of violet compounds.

Costus
I have already mentioned before, in the article about musks, the unique characteristics of costus. However, it’s dusky, dark and slightly oily quality is not only valuable for creating vegetale musk accords, but also as a deep and delicately sweet and rich foundation for violet accords – especially when seeking a dark, more mysterious (rather than purely innocent) violet.

L’Heure Bleue is one of the true masterpiece by Jacques Guerlain. I see it as standing hand-in-hand with its sisters Mitsouko and Vol de Nuit. There is certain quality that underlines those three masterpieces and makes them even more than an amazingly beautiful-smelling perfume to wear - but truly a work of art.

L’Heure Bleue is sophisticated and anigmatic, and yet has a unique melodramatic peacefulness that definitely does not lack reflective, philosophical melancholy…
When you realize, once the last dusky lights are giving themselves away to the first stars, how beautiful the day was, and how wonderful the deep blue night is, and the world is so vast and immeasurable and so full of beauty that it may even make you want to cry…
This moment of beauty is so eternal that it makes you feel your mortality in a painful way. Still, you are content with yourself and your life that you know if it will be taken from you that moment, you will feel complete and in perfect harmony with the universe…

You breathe in the silent fresh air of your warm summer garden… The night blooming jasmine is beautiful and intoxicating… The grass that has been just watered, full of murmurs and insects’ summer-songs… The orange blossom flowers are just folding themselves for a long, peaceful night sleep. You pick a late blooming rose, a deep, velvety-purple-crimson rose, her petals already soft after warming up in the sun for the past three days. You hold the rose and fondle the petals and hold them against your cheeks to sense the warm scent of a mature rose releasing the peak of her last fragrance into the night air... And it is all part of you now, there is no need to hold on to it.

Those beautiful, magical notes interweave with each other so gently that it is hard to tell one from the other. Together they create one impression that in my mind I visualize as a very earthy brown colour, though somewhat rich and copper like. I simply cannot see a deep blue when smelling l’Heure Bleue, though the different notes on their own make sense and tell the story of this time of the day:
There are the subtle citrus and anise top notes that are there to accentuate the soft florals, including violet flowers, and link them to the deeper base notes.
The root of the composition, apparent from first application, is a soft and bittersweet heliotrope, combined with tonka bean that accentuates the softness, yet also possesses the bitter-almond-like undertones. Vanilla and orris root are also present, to support the overall powderiness and soft, mature and philosophical nature of l'Heure Bleue.

The drydown is somewhat more smooth and ambery (though it is hard to see l’Heure Bleue as an oriental per se –it has such a unique individuality and perhaps deserves not to be categorized at all…Just like Vol de Nuit and Mitsouko, I am afraid it does not quite fit into categories…)– The drydown is a bit less powdery, with a vanillic accord. It also has some woody notes in the drydown – I suspect vetiver, but cannot quite pin point it. I will not be surprised to find some oakmoss in it either, though not in a chypre context but an oriental context, and perhaps some underlining spices that are subtle and are not meant to be recognized but rather create a warm undernote to support the rest of the scene.

There is something in it that totally reminds me, surprisingly, of Mitsouko – the fruitiness that is quite dry, bittersweet (dry peach like notes in Mitsouko, and the cherry-like notes in l’Heure Bleue); and a certain dark woodiness at the base that is interesting, mysterious, hard to grasp – but once you get it you are totally captivated!
The fruitiness of l’Heure Bleue lasts much longer though – as it originates in the heliotrope base notes, rather than the peach top notes in Mitsouko (that most people find they fade just a bit too quickly after been exposed…).

Top notes: Bergamot, aniseed
Heart notes: Jasmine, Orange Blossom, Rose, Violet, Carnation, Orris root
Base notes: Heliotrope, Tonka Bean, Vanilla, Vetiver, Woods, Spices

L’Heure Bleue is probably the most incredible inspiration one could have ever found for a perfume – the name is beautiful, captivating, alluring, enchanting...
Initially, the fragrance itself did not do the same thing to me - It seemed to be extremely sweet, with a dominant, bittersweet heliotrope note in it, and dries down to a rather interesting and comfortable ambery-powdery vanilla. It wasn’t until I tried l’Heure Bleue in pure parfum that I got to enjoy, understand and appreciate it more – although I believe I only touched the surface of this aromatic mystery. It smelled intensley of jasmine when I smelled it directly from the bottle, and from there the images started flowing...

When I first heard about l’Heure Bleue I was so fascinated with the inspiration for it that I decided to create my own interpretation for such a magical hour. It immediately made me think about my mother – an enigmatic lady (I am still trying to figure her out…), she is an aquired anosmic who always loved anise and velvet. I created for her the perfume Indigo, an enigmatic concoction of anise, caraway, bergamot, boronia, orange blossom, jasmine, violet, spices, incense and amber. To be honest, there is hardly anything in common between the two fragrances, left for a few notes and the insipration. Indigo is soft and cool as satiny-velvet, and smells like a nightfal in the Wadi – the dried riverbed, full of luscious greenery and vegetation, and the sounds of frogs and crickets.

I only learned about l’Heure Bleue’s sweetness after creating Indigo (I didn't find l'Heure Bleue until after I created my own interpretation for that inspirational and magical hour). So, once I actually smelled the original creation I must admit I was somewhat confused and initially, perhaps a bit disappointed: it was not what I expected, it did not make me think about the blue hour – until after I worn it several times in the parfum form, which unfortunately is becoming harder to find by the minute…Like Mitsouko, I think it takes rare personality to carry it through easily and without tapping into it first…

Now that I have given l’Heure Bleue a chance, and tried it several times, I must confess that I understand why this classic has survived two world wars as well as the currently overwhelming age of perfumery.

p.s. Although the other concentrations are nice too, the pure parfum is for sure the best one. The Eau de Parfum is quite true to the parfum, while the Eau de Toilette is more similar to Apres l'Ondee. The other concentrations will be reviewed later.

Artwork: Frank Holmes - Blue Twilight