5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Series 3) - Day V: Chypre de Paris

Francois Coty is credited with creating the world's first chypre in 1917 - a scent that altered the course of perfumery forever. Characterised by a citrus top note (usually bergamot), a resinous cistus/labdanum heart and musky, mossy base, perfumes of the 'chypre' category used materials predominantly of Mediterranean style and origin. Curiously, whilst Coty's creation incited something of a chypre movement in perfume circles, the perfume term 'Chypre' had been in use long before Francois' famous formula hit the shelves... case in point: Guerlain, whom at the time had already produced four - Eau de Chypre (1850), Chypre (1887), Cyprisine (1894) and Chypre de Paris (1909). Thanks to the efforts of Guerlain perfumer Thierry Wasser and his assistant Frederic Sacone who have faithfully restored the latter in 2014 using original ingredients, I am able to describe it for you.

Chypre de Paris (1909), is a Jacques Guerlain creation authored just 10 years prior to Mitsouko - the perfume that is considered Guerlain's quintessential chypre and indeed, one of the world's finest. It is a curious perfume which - whilst not at all a chypre by definition - manages to almost get there in the end. Perhaps one of its most fascinating features is it's unexpected flight of leather and spice... it feels warm and a little bitter, and is imbued with classic notes of bergamot and lavender, although these notes tend to play second fiddle. This slightly acrid sting in the opening remains present from beginning to end - almost acting as a place-holder for a classic chypre component of oakmoss, which is completely absent from this composition. A very Guerlain-esque arrangement of florals (jasmin, iris, ylang-ylang and rose) collude against a more  burly accord comprised of civet, opoponax, patchouli and nutmeg. The sum of these two contrasting facets feels seamless - a fine balance of muted prettiness and woody, earthy brawn. A departure from "regular" chypres, the trail feels somewhat sweeter... vanilla and musks dominate.

If a classic chypre is measured by a distinct contrast between fresh cirtus topnotes and a woody, mossy base, then Chypre de Paris does not conform. There is insufficient bergamot and zero oakmoss present. However, there is a general sense that it was heading in the right direction, even if the very perfume that defined the category hadn't been conceived yet. When measured against the glorious evergreen citrus peachiness of Mitsouko with its parched mossy / musky base, it is easy to understand why Chypre de Paris might have been retired in favour of Guerlain's enduring perfume pillar and 'Grand Dame'. Nevertheless, this perfume is a fascinating interpretation on a theme that later, took the world by storm.

This concludes Series 3 of "5 rare Guerlains in 5 Days".
If there is any interest in a fourth series, kindly leave a comment.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Series 3) - Day IV: Candide Effluve

Hindsight is an incredible thing. When we study the rich Guerlain timeline here in 2014, we are able to contrast and compare, to draw parallels and recognise patterns which, at another time, might not have appeared as conspicuous. For a house with more than 700 perfumes to their credit - each one a single daub of paint on a vast canvas - we glean a greater understanding of the artwork when we view it from afar.
Just as Sorcery of Scent has looked at post-wartime perfume models in my article earlier this week, today's perfume,  Candide Effluve (Innocent Emination) - a Jacques Guerlain creation of 1922 - is another telling creation from the Guerlain archive. Candide Effluve places a marker precisely between  two distinct periods... the Art Nouveau era (1880 - ca. 1916), and the Art Deco age (ca. 1924-1940).

In aesthetic terms, what we know about the Art Nouveau movement is its somewhat bohemian inclination towards organic lines and natural forms. Art Deco on the other hand, celebrated lavish ornamentation and bold geometric shapes. Compare, for example, the flacon 'bouchon cœur' created originally for L'Heure Bleue (1912) with it's curved heart-shaped stopper and gently spiralling shoulders; to the iconic 'flacon tabatière' produced to house Liu (1929) whose square-shouldered black glass form is resolutely Art Deco in style. Candide Effluve, presented in the smoky Baccarat 'brun fume' flacon seems to sit somewhere in between... its shape suggestive of a piece of fruit or the human form, but with hard, faceted edges.
Of course, not only does it's appearance straddle the line between the two design philosophies, but the perfume it holds does too.

Candide Effluve retains a good measure of pre-war conservatism... a little of that wistful poetry á la L'Heure Bleue. Jacques Guerlain has re-used a number of components common to his Belle Epoque / Art Nouveau creations (not least heliotrope, violet, iris and rose which feature heavily in his earlier compositions), but has also managed to give his new creation a sense of Art Deco opulence and optimism.

A sunny and spirited flight of lilac and violet feels fresh, vibrant and youthful, but underneath, the heliotrope seems to tether it to a more mature space. Lily-of-the-valley and jasmine lend a bright, distinctly feminine feel, however a spreading cloud of patchouli and benzoin bring it back to ground again. Perhaps one of the more prominent components is ylang-ylang - it feels spicy, lavish and luxurious... a flash of gold in the shadows. It cavorts and beckons over a delectable vanilla / ambery trail.

Candide Effluve is a scent that shows some restraint, and I can't help but imagine a young girl born to very conservative parents who has just come of age and is dying to throw on her flapper dress and go out dancing. It feels like a perfume that darts between cautious maturity and reckless juvenescence. It might have been Jacques Guerlain's intention to have this perfume appeal to women of any age... those with one foot planted in yesterday, or one foot planted in tomorrow. Whatever the truth, it takes a clear snapshot of its time; an important transitional period when philosophies and ideologies were being refashioned.

Tomorrow's review: Chypre de Paris (1909)

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Series 3) - Day III: Fleur Qui Meurt

As a young boy, I grew up in a home curated and decorated with mother's federation-style tastes. An old Singer sewing machine sat atop a cast iron base in our den; sombre floral prints in heavy jacquard adorned sofas and windows, and porcelain Victorian dolls gazed blankly at Art Nouveau wallpaper from turn-of-the-century prams. A large hand-turned wooden plinth stood in the corner of our lounge that held a broad woven basket full of dried roses... mother had collected them as glorious fresh stems and hung them upside down for weeks until their brittle moistureless corpses could be added to the pile. Peculiarly, those fresh thousand-coloured blossoms that once dazzled the eye, when left to dry, shrivelled into a restrained palette of burgundy and ecru. What I remember most about this boneyard of flowers (besides mother occasionally dusting them with a hairdryer), is their odour. The velvety sweet perfume of the juvenile blooms had long gone, replaced instead with the stink of decayed organic matter that to my nose, was two parts repulsive to one part fascinating. Occasionally, if I felt brave, I would lean over them and sniff timidly, repelled by their fetor and yet somehow attracted to their unusual aroma of tea grounds and subtle spices. As a direct result of this vivid recollection from my youth, I have always been attracted by the name of Guerlain's turn-of-the-century perfume "Fleur Qui Meurt" (A Dying Flower). Fortunately, thanks to the efforts of Guerlain nose Thierry Wasser and his assistant, Frederic Sacone, I am now able to indulge my curiosity and experience this scent just as it  existed in 1901.

Jacques Guerlain's Fleur Qui Meurt is an example of Guerlain's consummate artistry. Whilst the vast majority of perfumers working at the turn of the last century were still marketing soliflores or attempting to capture the true essence of various blossoms, Jacques was turning the very idea of perfume on it's head by creating a scent that honoured the end of life. Perhaps inspired by something as simple as a vase of wilting flowers, or maybe as life-altering as an experience from his personal life, we will never truly know... but this fragrance is an artful rendering of blossoms as they wither and die. His composition opens with a glorious violet which is not too far removed in style from Aprés l'Ondée, a scent that he was to author just 5 years later... but perhaps one that feels somewhat less cold and damp. The violet here is robust and has been warmed by the sun, and is underpinned by leafy green notes that have a similar velvety, nectar-like texture. This is the flower in full bloom. But mere minutes in, the flight takes a gentle downward turn and the violet disintegrates... still present, but flailing somewhat, like the perishing prima ballerina in a production of Swan Lake. A lilac-white coloured ribbon of iris lends a husky, dry quality to the composition, and darker, earthier accords begin to seep in. Dry vetiver and dirty patchouli hint at decaying roots that have been torn from the earth, whilst a rising mantle of musk lends a distinctly organic feel.

Here is where Fleur Qui Meurt begins to defy description... it becomes a quickstep of beauty and fragility... fluttering petals and writhing stems seem to sense the inevitable coming. There is a luke-warm almost salty quality in its trail... it suggests a long expulsion of breath; a final sigh from which there is no coming back.

Jacques Guerlain's study has resulted in a very thought-provoking creation - one that traces the cycle of life from beginning to end. It's beauty perhaps lies in the futile struggle between life and death, and succumbing to the inescapable. As we all are destined to eventually follow the same course, I can help but feel Fleur Qui Meurt might have been intended more as a metaphor for humanity. All will fade in the end.

Tomorrow's review: Candide Effluve (1922)

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Series 3) - Day II: Cachet Jaune

1937 marks the year perfume heir Jean-Paul Guerlain was born... the baby boy who was to grow into the man who would be the fourth successor to the title of Master Perfumer at Maison Guerlain. It is alleged that Cachet Jaune - a Jacques Guerlain creation - was created as a gift for Jean-Paul's mother the very same year. Produced solely in an eau de cologne concentration and presented in the now-iconic watchface-style 'flacon montre' (later used to house a variety of Guerlain eaux de colognes), it is fascinating to discover that contemporary Guerlain perfumer Thierry Wasser and his assistant, Frederic Sacone have reprised Cachet Jaune for visitors to experience at the Guerlain boutique in Paris, in pure parfum form.

The author never had the honour of sniffing the somewhat diaphanous eau de cologne, but Cachet Jaune the parfum has immediate presence. A brisk aromatic green flight of rosemary and citrus rush over the receptors when this is first applied to skin... it feels verdant and succulent to the nose. A candy-like undercurrent of vanilla shifts the parfum's flight from a 'cologney' treatment, to something more saccharine... one's mind can't help but wander back along the Guerlain timeline and recall the pastry-like deliciousness of L'Heure Bleue, but here - albeit somewhat cursory - there is a sensation of delicious, zesty lemon curd. But all at once, just as one starts to succumb to it's ambrosial gourmand qualities, a titanic note of carnation shifts forward, pressing up from below with its heart-swelling combustable warmth and peppery prickle of spices... it is carnation in profusion; a multitude of crepe-like ruffled petals releasing their bold, commanding perfume.

This astonishing carnation is underpinned by signature Guerlain florals (jasmine, iris and rose, which indeed feature heavily in the Guerlain DNA)... but a generous measure of musk at its core pulls the composition away from a resolutely feminine bouquet and gives rise to a coarser, more physical facet. These delightful components simmer over a classic Guerlain foundation comprising amber, vanilla and tonka.

After some hours, as the last remaining molecules of perfume evaporate from skin, I crave the sweet aromatic spiced floral aspects that were so abundant in the beginning. I long for those generous sunny hues that seduced my nose - as it did Jean-Paul's mother's - so many decades ago.

Such a pity that Cachet Jaune never appeared resurrected next to Vega and Sous le Vent in their most recent incarnations, as was originally intended. For lovers of carnation, and for those simply hankering for a unique olfactory snapshot of the 1930's, Cachet Jaune has it in spades.

Tomorrow's Review: Fleur Qui Meurt (1901)

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Series 3) - Day I: Atuana

This week Sorcery of Scent will reprise its "5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days" series, in which we focus on one scarce perfume each day for five days from the house of Guerlain, that are either inaccessible to many or simply lost to the sands of time.

In 2014, Guerlain perfumer Thierry Wasser and his assistant Frederic Sacone set to work examining antique Guerlain texts in an effort to unravel the Guerlain DNA. In doing so, they have resurrected 25 parfums from Maison Guerlain's sweeping timeline and have recreated them faithfully so that they smell today precisely as they would have up to 140 years ago. Limitations on the use of specific raw materials have rendered these perfumes (in their original form) not suitable for sale, however they can be experienced on paper mouillettes at Guerlain's flagship boutique at 68 Champs-Elysées or at L'Osmotheque in Versailles.

At a closed-door event held at Guerlain in April of this year, an intimate group of 12 hand-picked bloggers were invited to explore and discuss these perfumes at length with Guerlain's messieurs Wasser and Sacone and mesdames Delacourte and Pichard. Each participant received as a gift, an exquisitely presented coffret containing 25 x 7.5ml pure parfum samples of the restored perfumes. Sorcery of Scent was a humble recipient of this coffret, and it is from this source that the "5 Rare Guerlains..." series will be sampled.

Today, Jacques Guerlain's mid-century masterpiece Atuana (1952).


In the years immediately following a World War, there has always been a visceral sense of optimism that penetrates the global psyche. Mankind looks to the future to reaffirm for ourselves that wartime horrors are behind us. This becomes evident in many areas... fashion, architecture, furniture design and indeed, perfume.

After the atrocities of The Great War, scores of perfume houses embraced fresh, new sanguine perfume themes, and for Jacques Guerlain, he found far-flung exotic landscapes his muse. Sous le Vent (1932) transported us to the breezy tropical Antilles and Vol de Nuit (1933) on a moonlit equatorial night flight. Both  embodied this renewed sense of hope where freedom and aspiration resonated with the world.

Similarly, in the years following World War II, an almost identical strategy was employed. For Atuana - one of Guerlain's first major commercial releases after the war - Jacques Guerlain took influence from the life of painter Eugene Henri Paul Gauguin who spent his last years living and working in French Polynesia. For Gauguin - and perhaps Jacques - the island of Tahiti offered boundless colour and inspiration. This being said, however,  Atuana is not necessarily what one might imagine it to be. One could expect the perfume of tropical blooms ablaze with colour, or the scent of salty air and dappled sunshine, but Atuana is devoutly less vivacious.

Still clinging on to a sense of war-time sombreness, yet perhaps offering a tiny inclination towards the more spirited releases that lay just over the horizon (such as Chant d'Aromes, Nahema and Chamade), Atuana is a scent of contradiction. Her semi-herbaceous opening of lavender and timeless aromats feels resolutely classical in its approach (including a familiar anise-like note that is present in other Guerlains) and yet in the same moment she feels even-handedly contemporary. The unusual flight gives rise to a heart that diverges down two distinct paths... one littered with soft jasmine petals and lily, and the other a darker, more earthy avenue where vetiver and leather play an integral role. Whilst marketed to women, Atuana's inclination is perhaps more to the masculine side than the feminine as these more robust, elemental facets take root. The astonishing leathery nucleus is a far cry from the stinging, tarry smokiness of Guerlain's Cuir de Russie... rather, it is a striking ashen leather... one dusted with a film of powdery grey cinders. To that length, it is interesting to examine Atuana advertising from the 1950's, specifically those picturing the repeated use of ash-coloured stone as a major design element. This ashen, almost incense-like quality, perfumes the skin long into the drydown.

Whilst my mind tries to draw parallels between what I smell and what I know about French Polynesia, all I find is disparity. I can't forge any true connection between the pair - nothing obvious at least - but what I do recognise is that Atuana and Ode, launched just 3 years later, both stand astride two major periods in world history. One is the fragile boundary between WWII and the suspension of hostilities, and the other; the end of Jacques Guerlain's reign as master perfumer before an enthusiastic young Jean-Paul ascended to the throne.


Tomorrow's review: Cachet Jaune (1937)

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Part 2) - Day V: Guerlinade

In 1998, celebrating their 170th year in perfume, Guerlain re-launched Guerlinade; a Jean Paul Guerlain creation based loosely on the original perfume of the same name created in 1922 by his grandfather Jacques.

Traditionally, the name Guerlinade has become well known as the house accord or "red thread" that ties many Guerlain creations together - a series of notes (vanilla, jasmine, iris and rose) that are used in numerous Guerlain perfumes that serve as the house's own uniquely recognisable fingerprint. Jean Paul's interpretation however, does not follow the same olfactory trajectory. Rather, it is a celebration of flowers that uses a handful of the original components, as well as an abundance of others.

First of all, Guerlinade has a striking opening of bergamot (reportedly Calabrian) over rich florals. The florals are rather dense, and thus the bergamot is lost a little - really only furnishing the perfume with a crispness upon its initial application. Next, one of the featuring notes - and indeed one introduced for the first time by Jean Paul - is lilac. Bushels and bushels of the stuff! Anyone who has ever lifted the tiny star-shaped florets to their nose will instantly appreciate their use here... their perfume is assertive and almost spicy. There is also a feeling of 'rubberiness' that I glean from flowers such as lilac and hyacinth, and that aspect is also at hand in Guerlinade. Here, the lilacs are endearing and sympathetic, suggesting a slightly damp, sun-speckled morning in the springtime.

Perhaps following the traditional Guerlinade formula more closely, I detect an ample use of jasmine and rose, though the latter is possibly used less liberally than one might expect. (The rose facet is blended well, but used more as a supportive strut to underpin the more spirituous florals). There is a dry iris accord that works well, running parallel to a creamy tonka / vanilla base. The vanilla (supposedly sourced from the East-African island of Mayotte), lingers on the skin, carrying the delicious lilac through well into the drydown.

The beautiful Baccarat flacon created by Robert Granai for this 1998 edition was based on the design of a bronze Nepalese vase used in wedding ceremonies. Granai recognised the draped glass contours as being exquisitely feminine.

Guerlinade is an attractive floral oriental that is both sensual and captivating. Whilst it is not the exact same perfume as has been traditionally used to distinguish a Guerlain creation from that of another house, it is very Guerlain in its approach and appeal; an often-overlooked gem. Guerlinade has since been re-released in 2002 for a short time, and again in the Les Parisiennes lineup in 2005 (also now discontinued).

Get it while you can.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Part 2) - Day IV: Ode

It is no coincidence that the last perfume ever created by Jacques Guerlain was called "Ode", as it represented an olfactory milestone in his career; the final perfume poem in his body of work which spanned 65 years. It also marked the very first efforts of his then 18-year old grandson Jean Paul Guerlain who was set to ascend to the throne at 68 Champs Élysées.

Ode also marked a turning point in the style of perfume that was to emerge from the house of Guerlain in the decades to come. Jacques Guerlain's somewhat sombre, mature creations launched between the two world wars were soon to replaced with arguably more spirited, dynamic works of art under an enthusiastic young Jean Paul's direction.

I find the contrast in Ode's advertising noteworthy too. In one regard, the advertising almost has a funerary feel... an ashen harp-playing cherub is depicted perhaps mourning the end of an era; whilst in striking contrast, Ode is portrayed as being energetic and new-fangled against violet hues and bushels of verdant green. This visual inconsistency illustrates a perfume perhaps standing at the crossroads of tradition and modernity... one whose purpose was maybe to appeal to an existing, more mature market, whilst at the same time, was establishing a brand new one.

Ode is a bright floral perfume with one foot planted in the past, and one foot planted in the future. In 2010, we can now review all the Guerlain creations of the 20th century, and I can see where Ode embraced classic perfume styles with its use of aldehydes, jasmine and rose, but also gives us a taste of things to come... I sense a prelude of other Jean Paul Guerlain prefumes sitting just over the horizon: the likes of Chant d'Arômes, Parure and Nahema.

Ode is a rich floral that has been likened to Jean Patou's Joy, though I personally don't feel it bares much of a resemblance. Indeed, it does focus on jasmine and velvety rose, but Ode is pregnant with other surprises... I glean a very green accord lying beneath the floral fanfare in the opening spritz... a crisp green/floral accord much like muguet. This brisk virescent facet synchronises well with the aldehydes and lends a dry piquancy to the perfume. There is a slightly dirty facet too which I would attribute to tuberose... a fleeting sensation of carnal liveliness. My nose also struggles to pinpoint the cause of a rather transitory but delightful 'rubbery' facet... perhaps there is a whisper of hyacinth unfurling within. Some time later, the rose/jasmine duo recede a little whilst the aldehydes turn to powder, and a creamy vanilla base becomes apparent... there is a hint of muskiness in the base that shifts the honeyed nature of the vanilla in a more libidinous direction.

To my mind, Jacques and Jean Paul not only intended Ode to memorialise the efforts of a perfume master and mark the inauguration of a new perfume nose, but also to act as an olfactory aria to femininity itself. Now lost to time (despite ongoing rumours of a possible resurrection), Ode remains the one perfume collaboration between two perfume greats; a moving and impassioned marriage of ideas, and - of course - ages.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days (Part 2) - Day III: Véga (Vintage)

Few know that Jacques Guerlain had a significant interest in astronomy, and that he frequently pored over published dissertations on the subject. It is no surprise then, that in 1936 he came to draw inspiration from the 5th brightest star in the night sky, and one that has been referenced in ancient mythology for millennia: Véga.

Originally released in the iconic Baccarat "inkwell" flacon, Véga typified the new and innovative perfume stylings of the Art Deco age. Only 15 years earlier, Coco Chanel had released her aldehydic beast Chanel No.5 onto the world stage to great acclaim, which resulted in a mass tendency towards the use of aldehydes in perfumery. In answer to Chanel's ground-breaking creation, Jacques Guerlain released the aldehyde-rich luminous floral Liu in 1927, and revisited the aldehydic theme in Véga; though this time with a masterfully measured hand. Véga presented aldehydes in a vastly different manner - somehow scattered and diminished - as if the scent itself, much like starlight, had travelled for millennia across space and time.

Véga has all the markers of a classic aldehydic perfume but for one thing: a generous dose of vanilla. It opens with a sharp floral crispness that rushes to dry the back of the nose... bright neroli and ylang ylang accompany strong aldehydes through the topnotes, but a denser velvety heart of rose rests just under the surface. This strokeable rose accord harmonises with the powdery aspect of the aldehydes, and the whole heart of the perfume suddenly becomes very tactile. A dewy, thick vanilla note materialises, and adds a feeling of creamy, ambery warmth. This is where I feel Véga and other classic floral aldehydes diverge in style... it feels as if with Jacques Guerlain's interpretation, he has shifted the radio transmission a little 'off' to receive signals through a screen of white noise and static. The white/yellow florals are still there, but seem to be flourishing under a cream-coloured blanket of cashmere-soft vanilla. There is a lingering trail of subtle woods in the drydown: dry vetiver and what I expect might be fragrant sandalwood.

When pitted against the 2006 reissued version, the vintage Véga edt wins me over just by a hair. There just seems to be a celestial harmony between the notes that makes it slightly easier to wear than the modern release. As with the heavenly body itself, I feel the light of 1930's Véga might have changed ever-so-slightly in the time it has taken to reach us here in 2010.

Guerlain Djedi: a brief history and review

Egyptology must have been to the 1920's that which features like Harry Potter and Twilight are to us today. Howard Carter's monumental discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb in 1923 directly influenced the global psyche; much in the same way as teenage vampires have penetrated our cultural consciousness in 2010. But whilst we in the here and now must suffer the commerce surrounding pasty-skinned blood-suckers and battling werewolves, our great-grandparents actually drew breath during an age of colossal cultural, anthropological and historical value. Oh, how I envy them!

The magic and mystique of ancient Egyptian dynasties certainly served as the inspiration behind Guerlain's Djedi: a captivating and rare chypre oriental perfume created in 1926, just three years after Carter's significant find. Djedi was presented in a flacon designed the sculptor Georges Chevalier and produced by Baccarat in 60ml, 125ml and 250ml sizes. The contours of the bottle (with its tall, ridged sides and gently tapering rectangular ground glass stopper) is distinctly Art Deco in style; but also suggests the form of a golden sarcophagus with its lid being raised.

Djedi was marketed in this flacon until the end of the 1950's, and also for a short time in an exceedingly rare quadrilobe presentation. It was re-issued in 1996 in celebration if its 70th year as a limited run of 1000 numbered Baccarat bottles created from the original 1920's 60ml mould.

Before I go on to review this scent, first a little background: the name Djedi is derived from references found in the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead where the Djed is described as a pillar which was raised to maintain universal stability, balance and continuity. It is the invisible cosmic axis or "world tree" around which everything revolves... it separates the earth from the sky; and matter from spirit. The Djedi are the ancients attributed to spreading this awareness... often referred to or portrayed as formidable primeval magicians. Djedi are mentioned in historical tales of Egypt as possessing tremendous mystical powers; their shamanistic practices, still an enigma.

I feel this information important to mention as it translates directly to the perfume itself. Until Djedi's launch in 1926, Guerlain have perhaps never before nor ever since created a perfume which so precisely and faithfully depicts an age of esoteric antiquity.

Djedi the perfume is less luminous than other Guerlain offerings. It serves as a period piece honouring the ancient past... perhaps a past as archaic as the pyramids themselves. Whilst a very complex perfume, Djedi is somehow as basic and primordial as dirt and stone - the basic building blocks of man. It is earthy, elemental and possesses a certain olfactory temperature - a feeling of dwindling warmth like that thrown out by the dying embers of a bonfire. It darts back and forth across the invisible boundary of light where amber warmth meets the cold black of night. Djedi isn't 'pretty' like her sisters; instead, she perhaps represents the disfigured sibling who spends her life residing in the gloom. Something is "off". Sinister. Agonizing.

Djedi is composed using a very dry vetiver: one that furnishes the perfume with a parched, arid vibe. Combined with a measure of civet, patchouli, oakmoss and musk, this vetiver lends a dank, musty quality that evokes sensations of being deep underground; where narrow stone corridors trap the air that has not shifted over the millennia. There is a sense of being unable to catch ones breath. A commanding leather facet also brings with it a feeling of antiquity - I immediately imagine dusty animal skins stitched together to fashion a tattered ceremonial shroud. I feel as if I am witnessing the ghosts assemble at an ancient entombment; the atmosphere palpable with a sense of grief, sorrow and despair.

My nose struggles to reach for the rose and jasmine said to reside at the heart of Djedi, but Im sure they are there. Perhaps, as this olfactory requiem unfolds, my senses too have become impervious to the beauty that surrounds us all during a time of lamentation. Whilst I cannot pinpoint these individual notes, I do recognise what this resolute floral facet brings to the fabric of this perfume, and that is a contemplative moment to look back on an age of immeasurable glory and resplendence. I suspect it was Jacques Guerlain's wish to create Djedi so the world could recognise the rise and fall of one of the world's most powerful and beautiful ancient empires.

Djedi - being one of the rarest and most difficult to source of all Guerlain fragrances - threatens to be lost again to the sands of time. One might hope that the Djed is raised again, linking the material world with the esoteric one, and our prayers of resurrection are answered.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days - Day V: Coque d'Or

Guerlain's Coque d'Or (Golden Shell) perfume was created in 1937 by Jacques Guerlain, and is easily recognisable for its beautiful gilded Baccarat blue bow-shaped flacon. It was created in the art deco age where lavishness and opulence was the norm, and its beautiful golden perfume presentation demonstrates this. Coque d'Or was additionally released in the quadrilobe flacon, as well as goutte and papillion bottles, and is a scent that typifies the glamour and mystique of this era.

Of all the rare Guerlain perfumes I've featured this week, this is the one I have been saving until last. Coque d'Or represents for me, some of Jacques Guerlain's most underappreciated work... it is a sensuous leathery fragrance that I feel might have been a pre-cursor to another much-loved men's Guerlain fragrance; but more on that later.

My vintage Coque d'Or eau de toilette reveals a citrus opening over an aromatic floral heart. I detect rose and something like soft iris or violets and a piquancy furnished by slightly peppery carnations and notes of nutmeg or mace. However, there is a beguiling buttery leather accord that features, and it is one that I've smelled before... it reminds me of paper-thin hand-made antique gloves of the most exceptional quality. As the perfume evolves further, curls of creamy sandalwood appear and an ambery facet (labdanum and vanilla?) brings with it a glowing sense of warmth. The whole composition rests on a glorious oakmoss base that rivals the best of other Guerlain greats. Coque d'Or is a sultry skinscent that gets better and better the longer it rests on the skin.

I would not be surprised if Jacques Guerlain's grandson Jean-Paul Guerlain perhaps drew upon the aromatic leather/oakmoss marriage of Coque d'Or as inspiration behind the mens aromatic leather fougère Derby. Whilst the two have topnotes that diverge in style and composition (florals in the former vs peppermint in the latter), their heart and basenotes run somewhat parallel. Derby is heralded as Guerlain's most revered male leather scent, and has qualities I find comparable to his Great Aunt.

I think many would welcome the return of Coque d'Or in the permanent perfume portfolio at 68 Champs Elysées. For my money, I find it a must-try for each and every Guerlainophile.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days - Day IV: Rue de la Paix

Long before Guerlain shifted into the famous address at 68 Champs Elysées, they had already long established their business on Rue de la Paix in the voguish 2nd arronissement of Paris. Nowadays perhaps best known for its jewellers, couturiers and milliners, Rue de la Paix has always existed as superlative shopping promenade for the well-heeled.

In 1908 Jacques Guerlain created Rue de la Paix: a perfume that paid hommage to the district and the haut monde that converged there. It was first presented in the Baccarat quadrilobe bottle, and later in the cobalt lantern bottle and goutte flacon. I can only suspect Jacques Guerlain's motivations in creating this scent might have been to meet the needs of those who frequented the area, (or indeed to sell the 'high society' lifestyle to those perhaps less affluent). This might account for why so few examples of this fragrance have survived until this day.

Rue de la Paix in vintage EDT form unfurls with sharp bergamot/citrus topnotes and dewy florals. There appears to be a crisp green floral accord just below the surface (muguet, perhaps?) and a shimmering peach-like aldehyde (that is not too far removed from that used in Mitsouko) in the opening. It is a rousing opening, but one crafted with a very measured hand (it is not as imposing as, for example, her aldehyde-rich floral younger sister Liu. But then Rue de la Paix, like the gentry who visited there, is perhaps more stately and refined). A lush rose heart and scattering of white florals furnishes the perfume with an appreciable air of femininity before the drydown reveals a very enjoyable bitter leather and musky base.

This is a perfume that embodies the vibrance of a Parisian cobbled shopping street, awash with colour and vivacity; and indeed one worthy of resurrection.

Tomorrow: Guerlain's Coque d'Or.

5 Rare Guerlains in 5 Days - Day III: Jasmin

Jasmin first appeared in the Guerlain perfume portfolio in 1924. It emerged post-WWI, just as the world swung into a brand new age of optimism and a renewed social consciousness.

Originally presented in the 'quadrilobe' flacon, and later in 'goutte', 'rosebud' and cobalt Baccarat presentations, Jasmin was one of Jacques Guerlain's numerous soliflore interpretations.

Perhaps what I find most beautiful about my vintage eau de toilette, is that it is not a straight-forward jasmine fragrance. For a single-flower scent, it is really rather complex.

The opening impression is of mildly indolic jasmine blossoms... rich and opulent; however its potency is somewhat short-lived. One becomes aware of a sharp undertone of lily of the valley which provides a crisp green constituent as the jasmine notes suddenly diminish by half. Five or six minutes later, a saccharine honey/vanilla accord emerges that reminds me of chewy Laudurée jasmine macaroons. Notes of pale wood bestow a slightly bitter "toasted" vibe.

One cannot deny the sweetness of this scent which, for its time, sometimes borders on the gourmand. Whilst evoking a sense of prettiness and youth, one can also recognise a more responsible, considered base of oakmoss.

Jasmin dances between juvenescence and adulthood... a soliflore that celebrates women both young, and those young at heart.

Tomorrow: Guerlain's Rue de la Paix

Mona di Orio - Les Nombres d'Or

For any perfumer, an 'olfactory fingerprint' is a difficult thing to acquire. One might work for an entire lifetime, and never achieve the elusive red thread that extends across his or her body of work that promptly identifies it as their own. Edmond Roudnitska achieved it with his famed 20th century compositions for Rochas and Dior, as did Jacques Guerlain with his esteemed 'Guerlinade' accord, however it is something that few noses in this day and age manage to attain.

Mona di Orio is a perfumer whose work can be recognised immediately. She approaches her work with an intuitiveness akin to the great masters. Her collection of Parfums stand both individually and collectively as a testament to her efforts and exceptional attention to detail.

Now, a new trio of eaux de toilettes are set to be released under the name Les Nombres d'Or (The Golden Numbers), which is a reference to the golden mathematical ratio by which artists and and architects have proportioned their work for centuries. As the architect of her own perfume, Mona has endeavoured to apply the same precision and concept to her three compositions: Cuir, Ambre and Musc.

Cuir is a deliciously warm and enduring leather fragrance which opens with a hint of forest green with rich, balsamic undertones. It shifts into a smokey, slightly woody facet (much like smoked woodchips) that pulls forward a sultry leather accord; one that is lavish and dark. There are fleeting moments of campfire smoke and I detect something akin to a murmur of tobacco leaf in there too. Cuir is compelling and highly appealing.

Official notes are: Cardamom, Absinthe, Leather, Cade, Opoponax and Castoreum.

Ambre is rather saccharine as it opens, but shifts into something rather multi-dimensional. It is resinous, but with burnt, honeyed qualities. As the perfume evolves, one can detect a dense floral core, which becomes slightly more powdery and vanillic with time. A soft ribbon of cedar lies within, furnishing the perfume with a melancholic aspect that is hard to describe. I liken it to the sweet powdery smell of an old mahogany grand piano, with a thin film of dust that has settled on the keys.

Official notes are: Cedarwood, Ylang Ylang, Tolu resin, Benzoin, and Vanilla Absolute.

Musc is a spirited composition that opens with a semi-diaphanous citrusy green, and a flutter of blonde florals. Whilst there is no musk present per sey, there is a sense of crisp, rounded muskiness... the anatomy of this perfume seems to be thorough, deep and considered. A creamy, mossy base lends a sense of pale woods also. Musc is a beautiful and elegant interpretation which is gentle, summery and restrained.

Official notes are: Neroli, Angelica, Heliotrope, Rose, Tonka Bean and Moss.

This collection of eau de toilettes represents an interesting new tributary in Mona di Orio's range. Each will retail for approximately 110 euros for 100ml at select retailers in Europe and the US.

Mona di Orio & Nuit Noire

If I were asked to predict a current French perfume house which is waiting patiently in the wings to one day ascend to the throne currently occupied by perfume royalty Guerlain, I would likely say Mona di Orio.

Guerlain, - though most unlikely to abdicate - are revered and celebrated (amongst others) as pioneers of modern perfumery, particularly at the hands of perfume godfather Jacques Guerlain (1874 - 1963). Their contribution to the art is colossal, and Jacques Guerlain's abstract perfume narratives such as L'Heure Bleue, Shalimar and Vol de Nuit have left their permanent perfumed fingerprint in history. The same could be said for the efforts of French master perfumer Edmond Roudnitska whose creative masterpieces Diorissimo, Eau Savage and Rochas Femme, olfactorily helped reshape the 20th century.

Mona di Orio, born in 1969 in Annecy France, became Roudnitska's teenage protégée; studying the art from the grand master himself before his death in 1996. As a result, Mona di Orio developed a fundamental sensitivity towards observing traditional values and garnered an appreciation for raw materials of only the finest quality. Now the creative partner alongside Dutch designer Jeroen Oude Sogtoen at the helm of her eponymous perfume house, this has become very apparent in her work.

Seven Mona di Orio perfumes exist to date, and all are intended to transform the wearer with their own unique alchemy on the skin. Nuit Noire is one eau de parfum creation that I feel may best illustrate Mona di Orio's tutelage under her mentor Roudnitska, and the vast, timeless heritage behind him. Nuit Noire opens with a delightful orange blossom note which is astutely and instantaneously counterbalanced by a dark, animalic (almost civety) accord of dense cardamom. Immediately, one experiences a sense of wistful recollection; much in the same way as if, perhaps one were turning the foxed pages of an antique family photo album, studying the sepia faces of well-dressed ancestors you have never really known. A complex heart of resins, woods and spices lend infinite depth, whilst a narcotising tuberose accord evokes a feeling of vintage sumptuousness. Hours later, Nuit Noire shifts more toward a creamy leather base. It is whilst familiarising oneself with the wonderful transitory layers of this perfume, that one can truly come to terms with its beauty and complexity. Here, the cherished works of early 20th century perfume virtuosos still resound, albeit now spoken with a contemporary vernacular.

I would encourage everyone to try at least one or two scents from the Mona di Orio line. The 2009 release Chamarré is also a favourite, and embraces this concept of tipping its hat, respectfully, to the greats.

Life-changing milestones: Vintage Guerlain Vol de Nuit Extrait

Today's blog is not a review... it is more of a monologue about a pivotal moment in my scented journey through life - a life changing experience - so I beg that you please indulge me.

Guerlain has been one of those houses that I have grossly misunderstood. Years ago, whilst working in the industry as a fledgling sales assistant I was uninterested with their perfume portfolio; back then favouring the likes of Azzaro Chrome and D&G Homme over Mitsuoko and Shalimar. "Stuffy and uninteresting" I had proclaimed, with an smarminess that now makes me wince. In the ensuing years however, and with increased exposure to a varied array of scents, I learned to broaden my horizons and came to truly understand that hindsight is indeed, 20/20.

This being said, I have never been really enchanted by any Guerlain release. I had sampled their standard range in downtown doors, but never actively sought after the rare blends and discontinued gems that many people spoke of. Pourquoi??! I hear you ask... well, basically because nothing I tried had ever really knocked me off my feet. I figured 'Guerlain' an industry buzzword which only fuelled my desire to rebel! 

I don't know exactly at which point my perspectives shifted with regard to this perfume house. Perhaps it was a surprising encounter with someone wearing the stirring L'Heure Bleu at a dinner party... or maybe it was whilst browsing this website: a virtual museum built by a Danish man out of adoration and passion for Guerlain and their scented masterpieces. Whatever the case, it was enough to re-ignite my interest. Within a couple of weeks, I came upon a stunning 30ml sealed bottle of vintage Vol de Nuit Extrait on the web, and after much deliberation (and quite unnecessary peer-pressure!) decided it would be mine. A blind buy of epic proportions! 

The package arrived in the mail yesterday and I scooped it from my doorstep like Moses from the 'rushes. I literally heard angels trumpet and a choir of celestial voices. I mean, I had he-ooge expectations... it was Guerlain, it was vintage, it was extrait, and it was $225! I was going to love it, by jingoes! 

I spent a good part of the afternoon turning the wonderful 1960's zig-zag and zebra stripe packaging over in my hands, and photographing the stunning glass flacon. I tugged at the ageing thread that held the seal intact, wondering how I might succeed in opening it with a minimum of damage. I sniffed at the tight neck of the bottle and got nothing but a small dent in my nose that faded rapidly from white to pink. I looked at the receipt for my purchase with a frown... yes, I was going to love it. Wasn't I? 

Please?

I decided to sleep on it. 

I found myself staring at the bedroom ceiling at 4am whilst the crickets chirruped outside my window. 

Then the sun came up.

So today was the big day. I thought it rather peculiar that I drank my morning coffee with butterfiles in my stomach; my eyes never really losing sight of the box sitting on my desk. I felt giddy with anticipation, despite having had no sleep, and looking as though I'd been dragged 100 yards under a bus. But with trembling hands, I removed the flacon from its packaging and carefully trimmed the cord holding its stopper in place. I gave it a tug.

Stuck.

I put the bottle in the fridge and went and had a lie-down, feeling as if the world had conspired against me.

45 minutes later I was back at my desk with bottle in hand. I could feel that the stopper had shrunk slightly, so I gave it a gentle twist. The stopper lifted and the seal let out a soft hiss as the perfumed air escaped for the first time in almost 50 years.

I pressed the moist glass stopper to my wrist, waited a few moments and inhaled. I lingered for many seconds... bitter green, opulent jasmine, galbanum, dark woods: and then an unanticipated feeling of boundless beauty and of overwhelming sadness. I felt as though the Vol de Nuit was telling me a story in whispers from behind a cupped hand held over my heart. I was no longer conscious of individual perfume accords - instead I experienced something way more poetic... something monumental. It was a perfume narrative, and the experience almost bought me to tears. I recalled the otherworldly 'sigh' I had heard when opening the bottle for the first time, and felt for a moment as if I'd liberated a genie from her lantern... perhaps one that was lamenting a love lost over the ages; her passion and sorrow swelling on the air. Such love! Such beauty! And such despair!

I replaced the stopper and sat back in my chair for a while, allowing the narrative to tell me of winsomeness and woe, all in striking colour. Never before have I been moved by a perfume in the same way as I have today. As cheesy as it might sound, I feel as though I have crossed some threshold and stepped into a whole new state of consciousness, and it was this vintage Vol de Nuit extrait that held the door open.

I don't know if I just got lucky, or indeed if many of Jacques Guerlain's creations are as absorbing as this one. What I do know, however, is that I will never look at this house, or at perfumery in general in the same way again.