Coty L’Origan

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Sometimes, just because I’m immature, I like to pretend that Coty only came out with the good stuff and all the stuff they’ve made that’s been terrible just simply doesn’t exist. When I think of Coty these days, the first thing that pops into my head is Lady Gaga and everybody freaking out about her up and coming “blood and semen” perfume. I won’t mention our favorite friend from Etat Libre d’Orange but I will say that the Coty of the early 1900s could have taken “blood and semen” and turned it into something beautiful. These days, I kind of hope Gaga at least gets something that isn’t a fruity-floral. Oh, Coty.

L'Origan

In Bottle: L’Origan has that classic smell that you just can’t imitate these days. It’s dense and complex with a varying, slightly discordant mixture of big honking spices and florals up top.

Applied: Spicy on arrival with a floral touch coming up. There’s a very old-world style to the way this perfume goes on and starts to age. People have compared L’Origan to L’Heure Bleue–well,  I should say they compare L’Heure Bleue to L’Origan because Guerlain’s hit fragrance was released after this one. It’s similar in that both scents trail the same sort of fragrance with L’Heure Bleue exhibiting a much colder, more melancholy personality. L’Origan, to me, is warm and much more animalic. There’s a hint of animal in the opening there and I experienced hints of animalics throughout the livespan of the scent. It’s blended very well, though, not overpowering the scent but rather giving it a bit of sensuality and added depth. Another thing about L’Origan vs. L’Heure Bleue, it’s spicier with slightly less noticeable florals and it’s ultimately a brighter scent though its uses of the  spices are very familiar. There’s a powderiness to this that tends to show up in vintage fragrances as well as a heavy dose of clove. As L’Origan approaches dry down it maintains that spiciness the whole time the florals are totally gone but what’s waiting at the bottom is this thick, rich warmness that reminds me a bit of slick metals and mosses.

Extra: L’Origan was released in 1905 and still survives today–though in an undoubtedly heavily reformulated state. As always, vintage is leaps and bounds better.

Design: The original L’Origan was bottled in a flat glass bottle of a squarish shape with the Coty seal on it. I had a warm, amber-like color and was a bit reminiscent of Chypre de Coty in appearance. The modern bottle (pictured) is reminiscent of a flower bulb with a spiky crown for a cap. I have to say I prefer the old style better.

Fragrance Family: Spicy

Notes: Bergamot, orange, coriander, pepper, peach, nutmeg, clove, jasmine, violet, rose, ylang-ylang, orange flower, benzoin, cedar, incense, vanilla, sandalwood, musk, coumarin, civet.

Somehow L’Origan comes out as the happy side of L’Heure Bleue. These two could be best friends, though probably not sisters. I have to say, despite my love for L’Heure Bleue–I like L’Origan a bit more.

Reviewed in This Post: L’Origan, ~1950, Eau de Parfum.

Houbigant Raffinee 1982

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Houbigant is one of those old perfume houses that made the early 1900s the romantic, complex perfume era that it was. Their fragrance, Raffinée was released in 1982. It was a strong contender in the time of the oriental perfumes.

In Bottle: Opens up with spicy and sweet carnation. I love it when carnation is done right and that’s when there’s a little bit of sweetness thrown in there to calm the flower down. I’m delighted to see Raffinée work the floral opening like this.

Applied: Spicy sweet carnation on the opening, there’s a floral quality up there that makes Raffinée smell elegant and light. The fragrance heads into the mid-stage dolling itself up with some light florals and a dusting of tuberose while the heavy-hitting incense and smooth vanilla amp up. The spiciness takes on a more fleeting role until the dry down where cinnamon makes a bit of an appearance. There’s a powdery quality to this fragrance that smacks of the clean sharp personality of an aldeyhyde treatment. This powderiness remains throughout its lifespan that echoes that clean and classic sensibility of classic perfumery. As Raffinée continues to age it takes on a warm, amber note and a slight bitterness on its way to dry down. The dry down is a pleasantly green, warm cinnamon and vanilla amber fragrance with a bit of woodsiness to round itself off. Raffinée has excellent longevity on me, and its complexity is absolutely fantastic. The projection on me was decent as well.

Extra: Raffinée’s been a victim of reformulation to make it less objective and easier to wear. I haven’t yet smelled the reformulation but of the opinions of the reformulation so far, I can’t say I’m in a hurry to. Houbigant was established in Paris in 1775 by Jean-François Houbigant. Nowadays Houbigant. You may see Raffinée listed “by Dana” instead of “by Houbigant”. The House of Houbigant has a long, sad story that saw the fall of a once great fragrance house to what it is now. You can read up about it at Perfume Projects.

Design: Unfortunately I was unable to identify an actual vintage bottle to use as a photo and I have yet to actually hold a vintage bottle myself. There’s a ton of different iterations for this fragrance as well which does not help in the least in terms of identifying which style the original formula came in. Adding to this complication is Houbigant’s very sad but very complicated recent history and Raffinée not being as well known as it should be. I would like to take an educated guess but would rather not risk being wrong. The fragrance’s general theme seems to be art deco etched in gold on red which sounds like a tasteful treatment. Of the bottles I looked at, the ones involving the art deco design gave the packaging a bit of old design appeal. Much more interesting that the designs that lacked the art deco elements. If you can help me out with the vintage fragrance’s design, please leave a comment!

Fragrance Family: Oriental

Notes: Carnation, orange blossom, plum, clary sage, jasmine, citruses, bergamot, rose, mimosa, tuberose, tonka bean, orchid, osmanthus, orris root, hiacynth and ylang-ylang, spices, cypress, sandalwood, cinnamon, musk, vanilla, vetiver, incense.

If you do seek out a bottle of Raffinée, I highly–with italics and everything–suggest you look for a vintage formula. And by vintage in this case, I mean its 1980s self to get the full effect of Raffinée. Any later and you may wander into watered-down and reformulated territory. Also be aware that true vintage Raffinée is difficult to find and quite rare (I, myself, have a small decant scraped out of the recesses of obscure fragrance). Many who label the fragrance as “by Houbigant” are actually talking about a newer formulation that should instead by labeled “by Dana”. It’s complicated, I know. I would appreciate any help in identifying a true vintage bottle.

Reviewed in This Post: Raffinée, ~1985, Eau de Parfum.

Jean Patou Joy

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Joy by Jean Patou, released in 1930, was busy being the most expensive perfume in the world during a time when a lot of people didn’t have much. It intrigued individuals for years who wondered what was in this magical juice that made it cost so much. These days, Joy is still pricey but no where even close to the most expensive perfume in the world anymore. Thank goodness. Joy

In Bottle: Roses. ROSES in all caps even. Joy starts out with a huge blend of roses layered heavily on top so that barely anything else can be discerned past this rose force field.

Applied: Roses still in the forefront but let it age a bit and I can smell the jasmine. It’s a gorgeous, full, heady jasmine that intermingles so well with Joy’s rose bouquet that the entire mixture has this bright, happy, scent to it. As the rose continues to calm down tuberose comes up to join the party. The florals remind me of a big bouquet, resting in a vase on a sunny day. Joy is what a perfectly paced perfume smells like as it evolves and morphs into this pretty flowery thing. This smells like optimism. Glorious, well-blended and well-made optimism that dries down eventually into a dusty sandalwood with a surprising presence of indole (our friend civet!) at the very end.

Extra: A part of me still wishes Joy held its title as the most expensive perfume in the world. It’s name is Joy after all. Instead, if you ask someone what the most expensive perfume in the world is, they’ll tell you it’s Clive Christian’s Imperial Majesty. A baccarat cased perfume that’s supposed to push for $215,000.  I doubt that’s worth the price of admission.

Design: Classic, elegant, simple bottle design. Joy has a nice weight to it and its simple, clear glass, plain label look reminds me of Chanel’s bottle design, but no where near as minimalist. It works and it will continue to work for many years. You simply can’t go out of style with a bottle that looks this classic.

Fragrance Family: Floral Classic

Notes: Rose, ylang-ylang, aldehydes, pear,  tuberose, jasmine, orris root, musk,  sandalwood, civet.

I think the question that remains is whether or not Joy was worth the hefty price tag it once sported. My answer? Well, not the juice, certainly the novelty of owning and using the most expensive fragrance in the world would be worth it for some people but I’m a bit more practical and think Joy’s present price point suits it well for the kind of scent that it is. As for that $215,000 thing we’ve got now? I’m curious but mostly apathetic. What juice could possibly be that good? Besides, most of the price tag has to do with packaging the thing.

Reviewed in This Post: Joy, ~1980, Eau de  Parfum.

Molinard Habanita

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You may have heard of Habanita’s original purpose by now. Yes, it was a product introduced initially for people to scent their cigarette smoke. Yeah, you heard that right. Scenting cigarette smoke in 1921 was probably not as weird or as novel a notion as it is now. Habanita evolved into a regular perfume just three years after its introduction in 1924. Habanita

In Bottle: Dry green and woodsy fragrance. Like leaves clinging to a branch and scorching in the sun.

Applied: Initial flare of dry woods that doesn’t evolve much for a little while and by the time the flowers hit you, you were probably wondering when that happened and why no one gave you the memo. Habanita is a dusty, woodsy, mildly floral fragrance with a slightly grassy note in between its opening and middle stages. It’s strange–but very interesting when compared to most other recent perfume offerings. One of the best things about this fragrance for me is the dry down that reaches a warm, leathery, amber note at the bottom with a hint of sweetness and a lingering dusting of the dry woods. It’s fascinating to smell. Even more fascinating to contemplate cigarette smoke that was supposed to smell like this.

Extra: I imagine with its initial purpose, Habanita might have mingled a bit with the smoke which would have altered the fragrance just a little bit possibly tempering or at least masking how dry this scent can be.

Design: Black bottle with Molinard’s signature water nymph design on the glass. The nymph design is very reminiscent of the 1920s’ sensibilities in design. The bottle features a gold metal cap and sprayer nozzle.

Fragrance Family: Woodsy Classic

Notes: Bergamot, peach, orange blossom, galbanum, oakmoss, jasmine, rose, ylang ylang, heliotrope, patchouli, amber, leather, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, benzoin, vanilla.

Habanita is surprisingly cheap for a fragrance that’s been around for so long and is, by all accounts and purposes, a rather pleasant and unique take (well, unique when you consider the other stuff being put out these days). Online discounters often carry Habanita’s  Eau de Toilette version for $20-40.

Reviewed in This Post: Habanita, ~2000, Eau de Toilette.

Old Spice

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Today we’re smelling Old Spice. I’ve smelled new Old Spice (hah) plenty and I’m sure you’ve smelled Old Spice plenty too, so let’s take a minute to appreciate what Old Spice smells like. Just because.

Old Spice

In Bottle: Spicy sweet floral with a citrus palette cleanser, bold for a men’s fragrance I gotta say. This is sharp, clean, sweet and strangely complex. A surprise to me immediately as it adds to its opening concoction a slightly boozy note intermixed with a dash of sugar sprinkled in.

Applied: After the citrus is done its job, the spice lingers around as is to be expected as the fragrance slowly introduces a fantastic miasma of cinnamon and clove with a few powdered flowers tossed in there for good measure. This scent is very dry, like a basket of cinnamon sticks at a spice market sitting near a bunch of burning incense on a hot summer day. It’s dry and warm and comforting with an interesting note of smoothness that comes up to mix with the florals and the spices that I want to say is sweet vanilla. Old Spice is a remarkably complex fragrance that goes through several stages on me but it’s mid-stage–that mix of sweetness, smooth vanilla, dry spices, and incensed florals is truly something else. Don’t turn your nose up at this or you’ll miss out on a very, very respectable scent. When Old Spice dries down, it takes a while to get there, but when it does it introduces a woodsy quality to the spicy floral sweet vanilla incense and warms things up even more with an amber and toasty tonka bean scent. Something this complex is mind-boggling how it could work together but it does! And it’s delightful.

Extra: Unlike a lot of people, I don’t have any early memories of Old Spice. I don’t know anyone aside from my fiance who may have once used Old Spice deodorant. And I kind of wished I did because this stuff is great.

Design: Old Spice’s bottle can be seen above. I don’t actually own a bottle of this stuff though with the affordable price tag, I really have no reason not to. The shape is reminiscent of a cola bottle but it works for this stuff and actually looks kind of nice. I can imagine that sitting on someone’s vanity. Wait, do men have vanities? I’ll just call them sink counter. Bottom line, the bottle works, it looks fine, it’s a good design for what it is and good for what you pay for.

Fragrance Family: Oriental

Notes: Orange, lemon, spices, clary sage, aldehydes, cinnamon, carnation, geranium, jasmine, heliotrope, pimento berry, vanilla, musk, cedar, frankincense, benzoin, tonka bean, ambergris.

Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Old Spice is a confident little classic number that’s been around since 1937. Yeah, the Old Spice really is old and I have to say, it’s aged rather well.

Reviewed in This Post: Old Spice, 2010, Eau de Cologne.

Guerlain Jicky

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So Jicky, what do you want me to say about you? Well, I ask because everyone the world over has already said what they wanted. It just seems I’d only add yet another opinion to the already loaded mix of what makes Jicky tick. Ah well, let’s give it a stab anyway. I started off this blog reviewing Mitsouko of all things! Jicky

In Bottle: Spicy lavender, warmed up and dotted with a slight citrus topper in the opening. Jicky is immediately alarming and comforting at the same time.

Applied: Initial flare up of citrus, a big yellow splash in the opening to get you ready for the lavender that rolls in soon after. The lavender really shines with Jicky for me. It’s normally a comforting scent, this lavender, but the Jicky lavender gets a bit indolic at times thanks to what I can only assume is the civet used in this. It’s very heady and frankly speaking, she doesn’t smell “right” but that doesn’t stop her from smelling awesome. For those of you not in the know, “indolic” is a polite term for “smells like poo”. Breathe past that minute note of “off-ness” and you’ll be rewarded with a spicy leathery quality to it. There’s definitely animalic swayings in this fragrance. It’s not soft and tender lavender for sure and if you were to drop this into a soap people would be wondering what’s wrong with you while at the same time wondering how they could get in on it too. This is dirty stuff but it’s classy stuff, and it amuses me a great deal. She doesn’t try to fruit it up or pass it off as some sort of therapy and just for that alone, Jicky should be given a crown. It’s simply you and lavender, leather, spice, and hilarious indole. And you had better take it. Jicky uses that full lavender with an air of sophistication and a sense of daring all the way into the closer where the lavender fades a warmed dusty tonka greets you at the bottom with that ever present indole. Something about Jicky smells familiar but at the same time incredibly lush and hard to grasp. If Jicky could talk, I imagine she’d say, “What? You don’t like it? Then it’s obvious you don’t get it and I’ll thank you for getting out of my way”. Yeah, that’s Jicky. She doesn’t care if you don’t like her. She knows she’s good.

Extra: I love Jicky. I don’t love how she smells because I am a self-professed, shame-faced lover of clean and easy to wear. But I love what she stands for and appreciate what she is. She’s an era in perfume long gone but stubbornly and regally embodied in her bold presence that just refuses to go quietly. She’s one of the few Guerlains that I will probably never wear simply because she’s too much for me. But I can appreciate her all the same. Especially for being so “in your face” with all the fresh, clean, fruity stuff being pumped out today. I find it delicious to imagine a group of bottles, a hundred or so in number, of celebrity fragrances could be placed on the floor in a room. And there might be a bottle of Jicky sitting in the middle, waiting for some unsuspecting person to come by, pick her up and get slapped in the face with all that she is. Never change, Jicky. Never change.

Design: Those of you familiar with the Nahema design will recognize the image above. Though it should be noted that Jicky most definitely came first. Beautiful bottle, classical look, wonderful feel. Pictured above is the parfum concentration placed into an fantastic, elegant flacon. It’s Guerlain at its best.

Fragrance Family: Classic Aromatic

Notes: Lemon, mandarin, bergamot, lavender, orris, jasmin, rose, patchouli, vetiver, leather, amber, civet, tonka, incense, benzoin.

You don’t really need me to rehash the romantic story of Jicky and her creation again, do you? Nah, I’ll just leave this post to say that if you were here and reading about Jicky, and were interested, there is a large online database of information readily available with a quick Google search about the conceptualization of Jicky, where you can get Jicky, and what–if anything at all–has happened to her in all these years since 1889 when she was first introduced. Or you can click here.

Reviewed in This Post: Jicky, ~1970, Eau de  Parfum.

Caron Tabac Blond 1919

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I think I’m still whirling from that miasma of hazelnut from smelling Chocolovers, but I’ve this drawer full of vintage perfume samples and by George, I am going to have a marathon. Starting with this beauty right here, Tabac Blond by Caron. Long dead and been replaced by a pale imitation toting itself as Tabac Blond. I believe my sample is from the 50s, though I cannot be sure when this was made. All I know is that it bears very little resemblance to the present day Tabac Blond EDT and EDP, though people have also noted those two forms are no good and the parfum that I have is the way to rock it. Tabac Blond

In Bottle: Not at all what I expected. Might be cause I’m used to perfume from the more modern times. Tabac Blond opens with a roaring leathery, viscous petrol note that threatens to punch you right in the nose just because you aren’t manly enough for its opening. And it’ll do it.

Applied: This smells like a garage. A place with motor oil, diesel, and bitter smoke. The leather note is beautiful, full and rich. The opening smokey oil scent takes a bit to give way to the equally smokey and rich, deep spices. Cloves are there in large numbers blended with that rich leathery scent that gives this fragrance a sophisticated feel. The carnation lends further to the spiciness already noted in Tabac Blond but also gives it a very, very slight clean feel to the fragrance. The spices and leather revolve into the base as well as Tabac Blond kicks up with a touch of florals, keeps the spice, and takes on an even warmer quality with a golden amber note at the bottom to finish things off.

Extra: No modern men’s fragrance smells like this as far as my knowledge goes and it is a shame because what’s billed as masculine today pales by comparison to Tabac Blond. And the best part? Tabac Blond could be worn by both men and women back in the day and was primarily marketed towards women. But because of how sweet and fruity we’ve gotten with women’s perfume in recent years, Tabac Blond would probably be labelled as, “Hyper-masculine”.

Design: Tabac Blond has been redesigned over the years and what bottle it now comes in is a mystery to me. Perhaps one of you can help me out in this regard. I recognize its old classic bottles, rectangles with beautiful accents. Simple but so dramatic and classic. If I were to purchase Tabac Blond on of these days, it’d be in a classic vintage bottle with–hopefully–well-preserved vintage juice inside. Pictured above is what I assume is a recent bottle design. It sort of lacks the elegance of the classic bottles but it is not a bad design. Actually, the more I look at it, the more in reminds me of Britney Spears’ Fantasy series thanks to those little bumps on the glass. Never mind.

Fragrance Family: Spicy Classic

Notes: Leather, carnation, linden, iris, vetiver, ylang ylang, cedar, patchouli, vanilla, amber, musk.

If men want to smell really manly instead of woodsy and aquaish, Tabac Blond will do it. But good luck finding the vintage. The recent version is a pale imitation. So pale that I would be tempted to say it’s a completely different scent. It’s like they took the classic then neutered and left it in a bath for weeks.

Reviewed in This Post: Tabac Blond, ~1950, Parfum.

Chypre de Coty

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I have a small (very small) half ml of Chypre de Coty that stands upright in a plugged tester vial that holds another tester vial that holds my trace amount of Chypre de Coty that I would love to own more of. Unfortunately, it is a rare scent and it goes for quite a pretty penny. It is also very, very beautiful. Chypre de Coty

In Bottle: This isn’t just a chypre. And certainly not the diluted, heavily modified modern chypres of today. Chypre de Coty is the chypre. It’s a genre definer and it smells the part. Green, lush, and somehow personal. This reminds me of a multitude of fragrances that were built around this one concept. Chypre de Coty is at once familiar, generic, classic, and unique.

Applied: This smells like perfume history. Like Mitsouko, with a rich, dry, beautiful soul. I own a new formulation of Mitsouko and it wasn’t until now that I realized how sharp she was, how she’s missing a certain gentleness and refine elegance that Chypre de Coty possesses and, I assume and will soon find out, vintage Mitsouko must have as well. Now I can be frustrated with the rest of the perfumistas! Yay! I mean–why, world? Why? Chypre de Coty goes on bitter and dry and green with a hint of barely there citrus and slowly changes and gets more and more personal on the skin as it introduces dense, clean florals and a fantastic powdered mossy base. It’s a classic chypre all right. I wasn’t kidding when I said this smells like history. And it makes me sad because this is from a fragrance era that no longer exists. And nothing made these days is going to come close due to reformulations and ingredient restrictions. I’m sad to be wearing some of this because it reminds me that none of this exists anymore and nothing like this will exist again.

Extra: Chypre de Coty died sometime in the 1980s. It’s a faint reminder of a time when fragrances like these were statements and masterpieces. These days Chypre de Coty–if someone were to even catch a whiff of it–is “old lady perfume”, a term I really wish people would stop using for things they don’t understand. I hear someone call something an “old lady’s perfume” and I think of people going into a minimalist art exhibition and complaining about how a bunch of lines on a white canvas could be considered art when their child could do better with their eyes closed.

Design: The bottle I’m familiar with is a simple, oval-cylinder glass container with a couple of embellishments on the glass body and a glass stopper. I wish I could say I’ve held a bottle of this vintage stuff but nope. The bottle looks beautiful though. The image pictured in this post is a vintage ad for Chypre de Coty and is not the bottle I describe here.

Fragrance Family: Chypre

Notes: Bergamot, jasmine, rose, patchouli, labdanum, oakmoss.

I’ll happily trade most of Coty’s present day offerings if only they could bring this back in the same formulation as the 1917 juice. There is truly nothing made these days that smells like this.

Reviewed in This Post: Chypre de Coty, circa 1940, Eau de Toilette.

Creed Green Irish Tweed

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Quite possibly Creed’s bestselling fragrance, Green Irish Tweed is a little diddy released in 1985. It has steadily remained popular since its introduction and has spawned a number of copycats. Including the often compared, Cool Water  by Davidoff. Green Irish Tweed

In Bottle: Green and clean citrus note up top. It’s just a touch sweet with a lingering background woodsiness to it that makes this smell very masculine from the get go.

Applied: Nicely charming opening with a strong green lemon verbena touched with a sweet clean note to sooth the opening a bit. As Green Irish Tweed starts to dry down, the mid-stage introduces a very pleasant wet and clean quality to it. There’s a violet leaf, iris and slightly bitter ivy scent floating around in here too with a soft woodsiness lingering throughout. The mid-stage is my favorite part. It’s dry down is a bit formulaic with the sandalwood amping up partnered with a really glorious amber note which helps take the fragrance away with it. Green Irish Tweed a sophisticated piece of men’s fragrance though it’s sometimes hard to give Green Irish Tweed its credit because it has spawned a lot of similar fragrances. So many, in fact, that people may have gotten bored of it.

Extra: This fragrance has been described a great deal of ways, from people saying it smells like boring, over expensive trash or the epitome of men’s fragrances. For me, personally, I like Green Irish Tweed. I can’t wear it because it’s such a recognizable fragrance that’s been so well ingrained as a men’s fragrance. That’s not to say a woman can’t rock with Green Irish Tweed on her. I just prefer to leave this one for the men.

Design: Green Irish Tweed is most recognizable bottled in an all black glass bottle that’s shaped like all the other iconic Creed fragrances for men. I do not own a bottle of Green Irish Tweed but I have held one and it, like other Creed bottles, has a nice weighty feel to it with a good shape that’s easy to hold and spray.

Fragrance Family: Fresh

Notes: French verbena, Florentine iris, violet leaves, Mysore sandalwood, ambergris.

Green Irish Tweed is available in a number of different products if the fragrance doesn’t float your boat. You can get this stuff in a deodorant stick, a candle, or various shaving related products. I should probably take some time to warn you of fake Green Irish Tweeds as there are hundreds of counterfeits of this fragrance out there. It gets a lot of press because Green Irish Tweed (sometimes shortened to GIT) sells for a lot and whoever pays for a fake of this stuff usually ends up being out quite a great deal of money.  There is a fantastic thread on Basenotes that goes over a few fake Creed bottles, boxes, common counterfeiter tricks and shows you some tips you can use to tell the difference. As for advice I can give you to readily use:

1. If it’s too cheap to be true then it probably is.
2. Always scrutinize the seller for more details, more pictures, and don’t be afraid to ask questions.
3. Always try to buy from a seller who will offer full refunds on products sold.
4. Check their feedback. All of their feedback.
5. Pay attention to what the bottle and packaging looks like. Anything out of the ordinary should sound off alarm bells.
6. If the scent is weak, different, or doesn’t last then it could be fake.
7. Don’t be afraid to ask other people who might be able to identify if your fragrance is real or fake. Include pictures to make it easier for us to help you.

Reviewed in This Post: Green Irish Tweed, 2009, Sampler Vial.

Givenchy L’Interdit 1957

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L’Interdit, the original, was discontinued then reformulated and re-released in 2002. Then slightly reformulated back to the classic version and released again in 2007. What it became in 2002 was a generic scent. Reformulated 2002 L’Interdit smells nothing like the classic, the 2007 version is closer but I still thought it lacked a certain daring feel that the original possessed. I had the chance to smell L’Interdit 1957 and the bar has been raised. L'Interdit

In Bottle: Aldehydes, very strong. Sharp and sparkling, and astringent. It’s approaching that point where it smells like urine as the aldehydes are just so strong in this. I think this may have something to do with the perfume’s age making the aldehydes stronger than they should be.

Applied: More aldehydes! The sharpness and sparkle are fleeting on the skin though as they start to evaporate but never quite leave, lending L’Interdit a constant status of glitz and high perfumery. The fragrance calms down a bit into a soft floral with touches of fruit here and there giving it a sweetness. It’s gentle like a like touch, and easy to wear. It doesn’t smell clean or fresh, just warm and gentle. The mid-stage is dominated with floral notes as sheer and light as the non-aldehyde notes in the opener. L’Interdit is  so easy to love as it approaches the dry down with a splash of incense over a bed of flowers and powder. It ushers out with a final flare of woodsy incense.

Extra: L’Interdit was composed in the 1950s for Audrey Hepburn. They released it for the public on 1957 with Hepburn  endorsing it. L’Interdit was composed by Francis Fabron. The man who created Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps. You may find it difficult to find the original L’Interdit in stores today but a recent reissue in 2007 of L’Interdit smells as close as you’re going to get.

Design: Simple glass bottle with a red label and a metal cap to protect the sprayer. L’Interdit knows it doesn’t need to impress you with a flashy bottle and it really doesn’t even try. I can appreciate the bottle for its simplicity though and its high contrast design.

Fragrance Family: Floral

Notes: : Aldehydes, galbanum, peach, bergamot, jasmine, rose, narcissus, lily of the valley, incense, sandalwood, benzoin, tonka, amber, musk, vetiver.

I didn’t get an exact date on how old this bottle of L’Interdit was so we compromised with a reasonable year.

Reviewed in This Post: L’Interdit, circa 1970, Eau de Toilette.