The word Caprice itself—meaning a whim, a fleeting fancy—suggests something spontaneous and unpredictable. Combined with Shore, it becomes a poetic contradiction: the restless spirit of the ocean paired with the momentary impulse of human emotion. The name itself flows like waves meeting the sand. It evokes imagery of seafoam, wind-tossed hair, and the delicate salt that lingers after a walk along the shore. To the Victorian imagination, such a name would have felt both daring and romantic. It hinted at travel and freedom, ideas that were particularly intoxicating in an era when women’s lives were still largely governed by social decorum.
The 1870s were years of change and elegance—a period marked by the end of the Franco-Prussian War and the rebirth of Paris as the world’s artistic and fashionable capital. Women wore tightly corseted gowns, layers of lace, and elaborate bustles, and they carried perfumed handkerchiefs as accessories of refinement. Fragrances at the time often took inspiration from nature’s purest expressions—floral bouquets, herbaceous waters, and marine breezes. Perfumers such as Lubin, Ed. Pinaud, and Woodworth had introduced “Ocean Spray” or “Sea Breeze” scents—delicate marine-inspired compositions that sought to capture freshness and modernity in a bottle. Shore’s-Caprice fit perfectly into this trend, aligning Guerlain’s artistry with a fashionable fascination for the sea, travel, and nature’s vitality.
Created for Comtesse Emanuella Pignatelli Potocka, a celebrated beauty and muse of her era, and later favored by Julia Forsell, Shore’s-Caprice was said to be inspired by the sea itself. The scent—though now lost to time—was likely a delicate, airy perfume built around ozonic florals and crystalline musks, with hints of green herbs and saltwater impressions that would have evoked linen drying in a sea breeze. In spirit, it may have resembled the “fur perfumes” mentioned by Gabriel Guerlain decades later—soft, powdery compositions designed to scent pelisses and muffs, evoking luxury and sensual warmth beneath the cool maritime theme.
To women of the late nineteenth century, a perfume called Shore’s-Caprice would have represented freedom within elegance—a whisper of wanderlust captured in a refined gesture. It spoke to a world expanding beyond drawing rooms, to steamer voyages, promenades by the sea, and the thrill of modern leisure. In scent, the name might translate as a marriage of air, salt, and sunlit florals, expressing the unpredictable beauty of the sea and the fleeting pleasures of love. Though its formula remains unknown, its poetry endures—one of Aimé Guerlain’s most mysterious and evocative creations, standing gracefully among the oceanic fantasies that rippled through perfumery in the 1870s and 1880s.
Fragrance Composition:
- Top notes: bergamot, lemon, petitgrain, cassia, lavender, sea wormwood, thyme
- Middle notes: samphire, marjoram, wild sage, savory, fennel, jasmine, wild rose
- Base notes: myrtle, sandalwood, cedar, pine resin, oakmoss, ambergris, civet, cistus
Scent Profile:
Bottles:
Presented in the Carre flacon (parfum).
Fate of the Fragrance:
In 1873, Le Mémorial diplomatique introduced Shore’s-Caprice as “the new scent for the proposed handkerchief,” a refined extrait designed for delicately perfuming the linen and lace that fashionable women carried everywhere. Guerlain, then located at 15 rue de la Paix, was already known for its elegance and technical precision, and this fragrance was listed alongside Royal Hunt as a choice favored by the Parisian elite. In those days, handkerchief perfumes — concentrated extraits dabbed onto fine fabrics — were considered the height of taste, meant not to overwhelm the air but to leave a subtle, personal trace.
By 1874, the Journal des demoiselles praised Shore’s-Caprice as one of the “best perfumes,” noting its unusual composition “of plants from the shores of the sea.” This description, rare for the period, places the scent within the growing Victorian fascination with nature, travel, and the exotic, while anchoring it in a poetic maritime theme. The “plants of the seashore” — likely aromatic herbs such as samphire, sea wormwood, thyme, and myrtle — would have given the perfume an invigorating greenness, fresh yet soft, quite distinct from the heavy floral bouquets popular in the same decade.
The Ilustración Española y Americana in 1874 situates Shore’s-Caprice in a broader constellation of Guerlain’s offerings — a house already celebrated for its elegant soaps, facial powders, and toilet waters. The passage reveals that Shore’s-Caprice was among the most “sought after essences of the handkerchief adopted by Parisian high fashion,” suggesting its popularity among well-traveled, cosmopolitan women who valued refinement and novelty. Its association with other Guerlain creations like Bouquet de la Neva and Parfum de France places it firmly within the elite olfactory vocabulary of the period: refined, distinctive, and unmistakably French, yet touched by the romance of distant landscapes.
By 1879, Théâtre de la Porte Saint-Martin advertisements confirm Shore’s-Caprice’s endurance and prestige. Listed alongside such iconic Guerlain perfumes as Bouquet Impérial Russe and Eau de Cologne Impériale, it remained a “sought-after” fragrance — one that appealed not only to society women but to actresses and artists of the Parisian stage, who often dictated fashion trends. The continued use of the perfume in this period underscores its luxurious versatility — it was elegant enough for court presentation yet lively and modern enough for the theater.
By 1886, in Pour Être Aimée: Conseils d'une Coquette by Louise Gagneur, Shore’s-Caprice had acquired a specific, rather sophisticated purpose: “completely special and original… it suits especially to neutralize the too pronounced odor of certain furs.” This practical note reveals the perfume’s cool, crisp strength, its ability to balance rich animal scents with fresh marine and herbal nuances — perhaps why it was favored in the colder months when women wore fur stoles and muffs. A similar note in the Revue Illustrée (1887) confirms this same function, describing it as “the original fragrance to neutralize the strong odor of certain furs.” It was both utilitarian and elegant — a refined solution to a distinctly upper-class problem.
By the time it appeared in the New York Times in 1901, Shore’s-Caprice had already endured for nearly three decades, listed among Guerlain’s “Extracts by the Ounce.” Its inclusion in export catalogs and American advertisements shows that it had crossed the Atlantic, appealing to the growing market of U.S. consumers seeking authentic Parisian luxury.
From these accounts, Shore’s-Caprice emerges as a perfume of distinction and subtlety — one that captured the bracing freshness of coastal air through natural means long before synthetic “marine” notes existed. It stood apart from the powdery florals and gourmand vanillas of its time, offering something clean, elegant, and worldly. Its connection to the sea, its use as a fur perfume, and its association with the refined rituals of handkerchief perfuming all point to a scent that was both practical and poetic, evoking the salt-kissed air of faraway shores while remaining firmly rooted in the polished elegance of 19th-century Parisian life.
Discontinued, date unknown. Still being sold in the 1930s.
