Perfumes for Linen (1878)

In Guerlain’s 1878 catalog, under the section Parfums Pour le Linge (“Perfumes for Linen”), the house offered a refined assortment of scented accessories designed to impart delicate fragrance to clothing, gloves, handkerchiefs, and fine linens. Each item reflected both practicality and luxury—embodying the 19th-century ideal of surrounding oneself with beauty, even in the most intimate domestic details.

Sachet en papier (Paper sachet)

These were simple yet elegant paper envelopes filled with fragrant powders or dried botanicals, intended to be placed among folded linens or garments. They offered a light, clean scent—often a blend of orris, violet, rose, or lavender—that kept clothing fresh and subtly perfumed while deterring moths and other insects.

Sachet en soie, de toutes odeurs (petit modèle, grand modèle) (Silk sachets, in all scents – small and large models)

The silk sachet represented a more luxurious alternative to the paper version. Made of fine silk and filled with perfumed powders or flower petals, these sachets came in various scents—perhaps including héliotrope, orris, muguet, or rose de Bulgarie. They were meant to be tucked into wardrobes or drawers, or even slipped inside bodices and sleeves to scent the body and clothing alike. The silk allowed a gradual diffusion of fragrance, lending a sense of refinement to the wearer’s wardrobe.

Sultanes pour gants / Sultanes pour mouchoirs (“Sultanas” for gloves / for handkerchiefs)

These sultanes were small perfumed packets or pouches used to scent fine accessories—gloves and handkerchiefs being essential markers of personal elegance during the period. The name Sultane likely evoked the luxurious exoticism associated with the Orient, suggesting opulent and sensual fragrances like amber, musk, or orange blossom. Perfumed gloves, in particular, were a French tradition dating back to the Renaissance, symbolizing both hygiene and sophistication.

Peaux d’Espagne (Spanish Leather)

This was a richly perfumed leather, historically tanned with essences of rose, neroli, cinnamon, and clove, giving it a warm, balsamic aroma. Peaux d’Espagne was used to line drawers or cut into small decorative pieces to perfume linens and wardrobes. Its distinctive leathery-floral scent evoked sensuality and luxury while also serving to repel insects.

Herbes de Montpellier, sachets de toile (Montpellier herbs, linen sachets)

These sachets contained a mixture of dried Mediterranean herbs traditionally cultivated near Montpellier in southern France—a region renowned since the Middle Ages for its herbal pharmacies. The blend likely included rosemary, thyme, lavender, savory, and marjoram, herbs known for their clean, aromatic freshness. The scent would have been brisk, green, and slightly camphorous, recalling the sunny, herb-covered hillsides of Provence. Beyond their pleasant aroma, these herbs acted as natural insect repellents, protecting linens and clothing from moths and mildew while imparting a scent symbolic of cleanliness and vitality.

Feuilles de Patchouly, en rouleaux (Patchouli leaves, in rolls)

Patchouli leaves—sourced from Pogostemon cablin, native to India and Ceylon (Sri Lanka)—were rolled into compact bundles and placed among clothing and fabrics. In the 19th century, genuine patchouli was highly valued for its rich, earthy, and woody aroma with camphorous and slightly sweet undertones. Imported through the East India trade, it became synonymous with luxury textiles, as fine Indian shawls were often perfumed with patchouli to prove authenticity. For clothing, patchouli’s antimicrobial and insect-repelling properties helped preserve delicate fabrics, while its deep fragrance added an air of Eastern mystery and sensual warmth.

Poudre d’Iris de Florence, en rouleaux, ou en boîtes (Iris powder of Florence, in rolls or boxes)

This powder was derived from the orris root of Iris pallida, cultivated near Florence, Italy—the world’s finest source. Aged for several years before grinding, the root developed a soft, violet-like fragrance with powdery, woody nuances. Used to scent both clothing and body powders, it imparted a subtle luxury associated with purity and refinement. Orris powder also absorbed moisture and neutralized odors, making it ideal for storing with linens or delicate fabrics.

Poudre d’Iris de Florence véritable (polvere d’Ireos) (True Florentine Iris powder)

This was the purest and most expensive form of the same ingredient, known in Italian as polvere d’Ireos. The genuine product was prized for its exquisite fineness and long-lasting scent—an aristocratic perfume note often reserved for gloves, sachets, and face powders. Its aroma was delicately floral yet earthy, evoking both violets and clean, sun-dried roots.

Vétiver, en boîtes (Vetiver, in boxes)

Vetiver root—sourced primarily from Réunion Island (formerly Île Bourbon) and India—was used in small boxes or sachets to perfume wardrobes and repel moths. Its smoky, woody, and slightly grassy scent was grounding and enduring, able to cling to fabrics for months. Beyond its fragrance, vetiver was valued for its antiseptic and insect-repelling properties, preserving fine linens and garments while leaving a subtle, elegant trace of earthiness.

Cassolette (printanière) (Cassolette – “springtime scent box”)

The cassolette, also known as the printanier, was a small perforated scent box, often made of ivory, silver, or gold, designed to release fragrance slowly through tiny openings. Inside was a paste of luxurious materials—musk, ambergris, vanilla seeds, rose otto, and orris powder—bound with gum acacia or tragacanth. These “ivory palaces of perfume,” as described in The New Cyclopædia of Domestic Economy (1872), were carried in pockets or reticules, much like vinaigrettes, and served as portable luxuries. The aroma that escaped was sweet, warm, and animalic, at once intimate and refined—a symbol of private elegance in an age before modern atomizers.

Together, these Parfums Pour le Linge capture a world in which scent was woven through every aspect of daily life. From herb-scented linen cupboards to finely perfumed gloves and handkerchiefs, Guerlain’s offerings in 1878 reflected both practical ingenuity and the poetic desire to surround oneself with fragrance—an invisible signature of refinement, order, and beauty.

New Mown Hay c1852

New Mown Hay (also known as Foin Coupé) was introduced by Guerlain around 1852, during an era of optimism, elegance, and change in mid-19th-century France. The name “New Mown Hay” refers quite literally to freshly cut hay — the phrase itself evokes the green, sweet, and slightly coumarinic aroma that fills the air after fields are harvested in summer. Its name carries a simple rustic charm. In French, Foin Coupé (pronounced fwah(n) koo-pay) translates the same way, but with a touch of refinement that made it sound more poetic to contemporary ears. The phrase conjures images of golden fields bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, the scent of grass warming underfoot, and a soft country breeze — the kind of pastoral tranquility that appealed to a society yearning for a return to nature amid rapid industrial progress.

The early 1850s were part of the Second Empire in France, a period marked by prosperity, artistic innovation, and a fascination with beauty in all its forms. Paris was the epicenter of fashion and culture, where silk gowns rustled beneath parasols, and perfumery began to emerge as a sophisticated art. Eugène Rimmel and Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain were among the leading names defining this new luxury. The idea of a perfume inspired by something as humble as hay would have seemed refreshingly modern and romantic — a contrast to the heavier, resinous scents of previous decades. New Mown Hay captured the spirit of pastoral nostalgia fashionable in painting, poetry, and design — a celebration of the natural world and the idealized countryside, which stood as a sentimental refuge from the bustle of city life.

For women of the time, New Mown Hay would have embodied innocence, warmth, and subtle sensuality. Its name suggested simplicity and purity, yet the scent itself carried a deeper, almost languid sweetness beneath the grassy top — much like the duality expected of the ideal 19th-century woman: demure yet alluring. The fragrance’s floral-oriental composition likely blended the green, hay-like notes of coumarin (naturally present in tonka bean and clover) with soft florals and warm resins, creating a balance between freshness and comfort. To wear such a scent would have been a statement of refined taste — evoking sunlit meadows rather than the heavy incense of salons — a poetic nod to both nature and sophistication.

 

Though New Mown Hay was not the first of its kind, Guerlain’s interpretation became one of the most admired. The “cut hay” theme had become a classic by the mid-19th century, and nearly every perfumer offered a version. The early formulas relied on natural extracts, tinctures, and infusions — tonka bean for its sweet, almond-hay warmth; vanilla for roundness; and ambergris for its smooth, animalic depth. As time passed, advances in chemistry transformed the perfume’s profile. By the late 19th century, synthetics such as coumarin, anisic aldehyde, isoeugenol, and vanillin were introduced. Coumarin, discovered in 1868, was particularly transformative — it captured the scent of hay more vividly and consistently than natural extracts alone. Rather than replacing nature, these early aroma chemicals allowed perfumers to amplify its beauty, making New Mown Hay more radiant, longer-lasting, and expressive than ever before.

In context, New Mown Hay represented a bridge between two worlds: the natural and the modern, the pastoral and the urban, the romantic and the scientific. Guerlain’s version stood out for its refinement — a cultivated interpretation of rusticity — and helped shape the enduring olfactory theme of warm, coumarinic perfumes that would later influence classics such as Houbigant’s Fougère Royale (1882) and Guerlain’s own Jicky (1889). What began as an ode to freshly cut grass evolved into a symbol of innovation — a fragrance that captured both the simplicity of a summer field and the sophistication of a Parisian salon.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? New Mown Hay is classified as a floral oriental fragrance.

• Top notes: bergamot, lemon, neroli, orange, orange blossom, cassie, benzoic acid, anisic aldehyde
• Middle notes: verbena, lavender, jasmine, rose, cloves, benzyl isoeugenol, tuberose, rose geranium, violet, orris, caraway
• Base notes: Brazilian rosewood, Indian rosewood, Indian sandalwood, tonka bean, coumarin, musk, civet, vanilla, vanillin, styrax, oakmoss, thuja, patchouli, ambergris

Scent Profile:

To smell New Mown Hay is to be momentarily transported to a golden field in the height of summer, when the sun-warmed air carries the sweetness of freshly cut grass and drying clover. The fragrance opens with a luminous burst of bergamot, lemon, and orange, their zest effervescent and sparkling—like the first inhale of morning light after dew has lifted. The bergamot, likely from Calabria in southern Italy, introduces a refined green-citrus note, rich in linalyl acetate and limonene, lending brightness and a soft herbal tang that balances the perfume’s forthcoming sweetness. 

Lemon sharpens this impression with its crisp aldehydic lift, its citral and limonene molecules giving a sunlit freshness. Then comes neroli and orange blossom, distilled and extracted from the same bitter orange trees of Seville, their dual nature—one green and petitgrain-like, the other honeyed and white floral—creating a tension between airy lightness and languid warmth. A tender thread of cassie absolute, derived from the Acacia farnesiana flowers of Egypt, weaves in powdery, mimosa-like tones, subtly animalic and sweet with its natural methyl salicylate and anisic aldehyde—molecules that will later echo the hay-like theme at the heart of the perfume. Even benzoic acid, typically a resinous fixative, adds a faint medicinal roundness to the top accord, suggesting the soft warmth of polished wood and sun-warmed skin.

As the top notes settle, New Mown Hay reveals a verdant, spicy heart that perfectly captures the duality of the countryside—both fresh and deeply sensual. The herbal brightness of verbena and lavender emerges first, bringing clarity and lift; the citral in verbena lends a lemony-green facet, while the linalool in lavender introduces an aromatic calm, soft and slightly camphoraceous. These cooling notes soon entwine with florals of deeper character: jasmine from Grasse, with its indolic sweetness; rose from Bulgaria, dense and honeyed with phenylethyl alcohol and citronellol; and tuberose, creamy and narcotic, diffusing its characteristic methyl benzoate and indole, reminiscent of night-blooming gardens. 

The spicy pulse of clove—rich in eugenol—adds warmth and depth, while rose geranium contributes a rosier, greener tone with its geraniol and citronellol. The presence of violet and orris introduces a powdered coolness, enhanced by the ionones naturally found in orris root, which mimic the scent of crushed violets. A thread of benzyl isoeugenol—a molecule often used to enhance spicy florals—bridges the natural spices with the lushness of flowers, ensuring a seamless harmony. And hidden beneath this floral tapestry is a whisper of caraway, earthy and slightly bitter, lending complexity and a dry contrast to the sweet heart.

Then, slowly, the warmth deepens into the true soul of the fragrance—the “new mown hay” itself. This effect blossoms from tonka bean, the seed from Dipteryx odorata trees of South America, whose natural coumarin content gives that unmistakable scent of freshly cut hay mingled with almond and tobacco. Guerlain, ever at the forefront of innovation, would later emphasize this note with the isolated synthetic coumarin, discovered in 1868, which intensified and clarified the hay accord, making it glow with radiance and longevity. Coumarin bridges the natural sweetness of vanilla and benzoin with the green dryness of oakmoss, creating an accord both fresh and enveloping. Vanilla and vanillin provide the golden, creamy sweetness that rounds the base, while styrax contributes a leathery balsamic tone and ambergris lends that elusive, animalic smoothness—soft, saline, and sensual.

Supporting these are the deep woods: Brazilian and Indian rosewood, prized for their reddish warmth and oily richness, exude a faint peppered sweetness through linalool and nerolidol; Indian sandalwood, with its creamy, lactonic santalol, adds a sacred, meditative depth that softens the spice and sweetness into a serene finish. Musk and civet bring a subtle animalic hum—sensual but never coarse—while patchouli adds its earthy, camphorous grounding, its patchoulol molecule giving the perfume a lasting resonance. A touch of thuja, dry and coniferous, recalls the crisp air of cut wood, linking back to the pastoral theme.

In the final dry-down, New Mown Hay becomes a harmony of opposites—both green and golden, airy yet rich. The interplay between natural extracts and early synthetics gives it a texture that feels alive: the coumarin heightens the sweetness of tonka and the dryness of hay; anisic aldehyde lifts the florals with a faintly spicy brightness; vanillin amplifies the creamy warmth of real vanilla. It is both the scent of sun-drenched fields and the polished refinement of a 19th-century salon. To experience it is to breathe in the poetry of a bygone era—an olfactory memory of nature, innovation, and the quiet sophistication of Guerlain’s art.

Bottles:

Starting in 1870, it was presented in the Carre flacon (square flacon) for parfum.

Fate of the Fragrance:

The fragrance has since been discontinued, though the exact date is unknown, it remained on sale at least until 1872.