Sillage 1907

Sillage by Guerlain, first launched in 1906 and arriving in the United States in 1907, was originally conceived as a men’s perfume—a rarity in an era when perfumery largely centered on women. Created by Jacques Guerlain, it was described in The Times-Democrat in 1913 as “a refined and lasting man’s perfume of the $3 series,” notable for being built upon an Oriental odorous wood that, according to the Guerlain family, grew only in a small and secretive district. Its importation was said to be a family secret passed down through generations, and the elder Guerlain himself declared that when the supply of this rare wood was exhausted, “there will be no more Sillage.” That sense of rarity, of something precious and fleeting, is woven into both the name and character of the fragrance.

The word “Sillage” (pronounced see-yazh) is French, meaning “wake” — the trail left by a ship as it moves through water, or, metaphorically, the trail of scent that lingers in the air when someone passes by. In perfume language, “sillage” later came to define a fragrance’s aura or projection — the invisible presence a perfume leaves behind. The name immediately conjures imagery of elegance in motion: a well-dressed gentleman striding through the Parisian boulevards, his scent trailing softly behind like silk unraveling in the wind. Emotionally, Sillage evokes grace, sensual confidence, and that intangible mystery that lingers long after the wearer is gone.

The perfume emerged during the Belle Époque, a period of optimism, artistic flourishing, and refinement in France. In 1906, Paris was alive with innovation — electric lights illuminated the boulevards, the first automobiles purred through the streets, and fashion was evolving toward freer silhouettes and luxurious textiles. Perfumery, too, was shifting: Guerlain’s contemporaries were beginning to explore oriental and ambery compositions, moving beyond simple floral waters toward deeper, more complex accords. For men, fragrance was still a sign of sophistication rather than vanity, and Sillage represented an evolution in masculine perfumery — less barbershop, more sensual, imbued with the Guerlinade’s signature warmth of vanilla, tonka, and woods.

Though first intended for men, Sillage soon found female admirers who appreciated its musky, floral-woody depth. The balance of white flowers laid over leather, musk, and the Guerlinade base gave it a gentle, luminous quality that transcended gender. Later editions introduced aldehydes in the top notes, lending a touch of shimmer and airiness to the otherwise rich composition — a refinement that mirrored the modernity of the early 20th century.

In the context of its time, Sillage stood apart. While many perfumes of the early 1900s celebrated pastoral florals or powdery vanities, Guerlain crafted a scent that embodied movement, sensuality, and longevity. It was at once elegant and elusive — a fragrance that whispered rather than shouted, whose beauty was found not in immediacy, but in the trail it left behind.

An excerpt from the publication, La Vielle Lumiere from 1909:

"Perfumery at that time was far from what it is now, and Guerlain was the promoter of the items that we ... his new creations: Jicky, Apres L'Ondee, Sillage, are fashionable TODAY."

 

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Sillage is classified as a musky floral fragrance for women. White flowers over the Guerlinade accord with leather, musk and woodsy notes. Later editions included aldehydes in the top notes.

• Top notes: aromatic notes, Egyptian jasmine, Calabrian bergamot, lemon, Tunisian orange, green hyacinth, heliotrope, lilac
• Middle notes: Grasse jasmine, Bulgarian rose, Grasse rose, Zanzibar clove, tuberose, Nossi-Be ylang ylang lily of the valley, de Laire's Bouvardia base (ionone, rose, jasmine, and orange blossom), magnolia, mint, violet, orris 
• Base notes: leather, spices, Abyssinian civet, Tibetan musk, ambergris, oakmoss, green resins, vanilla, Venezuelan tonka bean, Mysore sandalwood

  

Scent Profile:

Sillage by Guerlain unfolds like a story of luminous white petals drifting through a haze of musk and resin, a scent that feels both distant and intimately close — much like its name, sillage, the French word for “the trail left in the air as one passes by.” The perfume begins in a burst of aromatic freshness, where Calabrian bergamot glows with its distinctive sun-warmed bitterness. Calabrian bergamot is prized above all others for its complexity — a perfect balance of tart citrus and soft floral tones, rich in natural linalyl acetate and limonene, which give the fragrance its sparkling transparency. 

Lemon joins it, sharper and brighter, while Tunisian orange adds a sweet, honeyed fullness, warmer and rounder than the austere bergamot. The first breath feels like a Mediterranean garden kissed by morning light. Threaded through this brilliance is Egyptian jasmine, its scent lush and narcotic, filled with indoles that shimmer with animalic depth. Lilac and heliotrope soften the opening — lilac airy and nostalgic, heliotrope powdery and almond-like, a tender link between freshness and warmth. Green hyacinth lends a sharp, sappy contrast — its galbanum-like greenness evokes crushed stems, grounding the early bloom in realism.

As the perfume settles, Grasse jasmine and Grasse rose take center stage, their richness unmistakable — denser, more velvety, and sun-soaked than their counterparts grown elsewhere. Grasse’s microclimate and chalky soil coax a buttery sweetness and deep floral nuance out of each blossom, their petals steeped in natural compounds like benzyl acetate and phenethyl alcohol, which impart that unmistakable Guerlain floral warmth. Bulgarian rose layers in a darker tone — damascenone-rich, with hints of raspberry and wine — while tuberose contributes its creamy, intoxicating bloom, both carnal and cool. 

The inclusion of Nossi-Bé ylang-ylang, sourced from Madagascar’s famed “Perfumed Island,” adds exotic goldenness — high in benzyl benzoate and methyl salicylate, lending a custard-like depth that melts into the composition’s sensual heart. Around them, violet and orris whisper their silken powder, built from ionones that bridge floral opulence with delicate woodiness. Magnolia and lily of the valley brighten this velvety core with pearly light, while a trace of mint lends a fleeting cool breath, a momentary lift before the fragrance deepens again.

One of the perfume’s most historically intriguing ingredients is De Laire’s Bouvardia base — an early 20th-century perfumery accord blending ionone, rose, jasmine, and orange blossom. It was a masterful creation designed to amplify the radiance of natural florals, lending a velvety fullness and an almost tactile roundness to the bouquet. This was one of the great technical triumphs of perfumery’s early modern era — the use of synthetics to magnify and extend natural beauty, to let a single jasmine petal seem eternal.

As the perfume dries down, the base reveals its true opulence — a soft leather accord threaded with spices, oakmoss, and ambergris. The leather is supple and smooth, evocative of fine gloves rather than tanned hide, merging with Abyssinian civet and Tibetan musk to create a sensual hum of warmth. Natural civetone and muscone molecules lend the blend a shimmering animalic vibration — intimate, human, yet refined. 

Green resins lend balsamic density, while ambergris — rare and radiant — diffuses with its salt-warmed sweetness, creating the illusion of perfume that glows from within. The creamy Mysore sandalwood brings balance: its rich, milky woodiness, high in santalol, wraps everything in a soft, meditative calm. Finally, Venezuelan tonka bean and vanilla finish the composition in a gauzy sweetness — coumarin from the tonka bean mingling with vanillin to create that signature Guerlinade trail: soft, powdery, luminous, and infinitely human.

In Sillage, every element — from the sparkle of bergamot to the velvet of rose and the whisper of musk — exists to create an aura rather than a scent. It is less something worn and more something inhabited; a breath of memory and light that seems to linger even after one has gone.

  

Bottles:

Sillage was presented in a series of exquisite bottles that perfectly captured both the grandeur and sophistication of Guerlain’s early 20th-century aesthetic. The Empire flacon, created by Pochet et du Courval for the parfum, was its most distinguished presentation — a vessel of neoclassical grace and opulence. The design drew inspiration from the "Winter Circus" (Cirque d’Hiver), a Parisian landmark known for its lavish performances and fashionable clientele. In this context, the bottle became more than a perfume container — it was a theatrical object, evoking the glittering world of Belle Époque society. Its refined silhouette and architectural precision mirrored the Empire style’s fascination with symmetry, grandeur, and imperial symbolism. The polished glass, heavy in the hand, conveyed the permanence and luxury of Guerlain’s craft. It felt as though the perfume inside — elegant, musky, and radiant — was the olfactory counterpart to the opulent nights spent beneath the gilded dome of the Parisian circus.

Sillage was also presented in the Louis XVI bottle, another hallmark of Guerlain’s early design language. This bottle echoed the elegance of 18th-century French refinement — a period often referenced by the house for its association with craftsmanship, delicacy, and grace. Its clean, classical lines and restrained embellishment reflected the sophistication of the era, complementing the perfume’s character: polished, cultured, and enduringly French.

By 1923, Guerlain expanded the offering by introducing Sillage in the Goutte flacon for the eau de toilette version. The Goutte — meaning “drop” — was one of Guerlain’s most recognizable designs, known for its soft, teardrop shape and rounded shoulders. This bottle, simpler yet still elegant, was perfectly suited to the lighter concentration of the fragrance. It spoke to a new generation of wearers in the 1920s — modern women seeking freshness and fluidity, yet still desiring the timeless refinement that Guerlain represented.

Together, these three presentations — Empire, Louis XVI, and Goutte — tell the story of Sillage not only as a perfume but as an evolving reflection of Parisian luxury and taste. Each flacon captured a different facet of Guerlain’s identity: the Empire’s theatrical grandeur, the Louis XVI’s classical purity, and the Goutte’s modern elegance. In their glass forms, one sees the passage of eras, yet all share the same thread of artistry that defines Guerlain’s enduring legacy.

Fate of the Fragrance:

 Discontinued at an unknown date, it was still available for sale in 1941.

Quand Vient l'Ete 1910

Quand Vient L’Été — pronounced "Kahn Vee-ohn Lay-tay" — translates from French to “When Summer Comes.” The name alone is an invitation into warmth and sunlight, evoking the languid sweetness of long afternoons, golden light filtering through leaves, and the perfume of sun-warmed skin touched by flowers and grass. Guerlain’s choice of name reflects both poetry and optimism — a celebration of renewal and sensual ease after the gentility of spring. In keeping with Jacques Guerlain’s instinct for emotion through scent, Quand Vient L’Été is not just a perfume but a feeling: the first sigh of summer, the promise of lightness after restraint.

When it was launched in 1910, France stood at the height of the Belle Époque, an era of beauty, artistry, and cultural confidence that shimmered with progress and pleasure. Paris was a world capital of elegance — a place of cafés and salons, of dancers at the Moulin Rouge and fashionable promenades through the Tuileries Gardens. Women’s fashion, designed by couturiers like Paul Poiret, had begun to free itself from corsetry, embracing more fluid, oriental-inspired silhouettes. Hats were broad, gowns were draped in lighter fabrics, and perfumes began to reflect this new ease — moving away from the heavy animalics of the 19th century toward lighter, more impressionistic compositions. Within this world of flourishing art and self-expression, Quand Vient L’Été captured a modern spirit — sophisticated yet relaxed, radiant yet intimate.

To the women of that time, a perfume called Quand Vient L’Été would have conjured visions of sunlit leisure and the newfound independence that came with travel and the outdoors. The name evoked the sensual pleasures of the Riviera, the scent of warm tobacco drifting from café terraces, the sweetness of fresh-cut blooms carried on the wind. In an age when women were beginning to claim moments of freedom — cycling through parks, picnicking by the Seine, holidaying by the sea — Guerlain’s summer fragrance would have symbolized a new kind of femininity: graceful, modern, and self-assured.

If one were to interpret the phrase Quand Vient L’Été in scent, it might open with a burst of sun-drenched brightness — perhaps citrus, hay, or mimosa, touched with the aromatic greenness of herbs warmed by the sun. The heart would bloom with soft floral notes — jasmine, rose, or heliotrope — radiant yet gently powdery, reminiscent of skin perfumed by garden air. Threaded through it might be a whisper of tobacco, not smoky but sweet — the golden, honeyed aroma of cured leaves, suggestive of warmth and depth. This tobacco note, softened by florals and Guerlain’s signature vanillic base, would have made the fragrance distinct for its time, balancing freshness with sensuality — a foreshadowing of the oriental-floral style that Guerlain would later perfect in L’Heure Bleue (1912) and Mitsouko (1919).

 

In the landscape of early 20th-century perfumery, Quand Vient L’Été would have been innovative yet refined. While other houses still leaned toward straightforward florals or simple colognes, Jacques Guerlain was already exploring mood and atmosphere — translating light, temperature, and emotion into scent. The presence of a tobacco nuance, softened by flowers and the creamy undertone of Guerlain’s Guerlinade accord, would have distinguished it as both sensuous and intellectual — a perfume that captured the poetry of a moment, the shimmering stillness when the air grows heavy with summer.

Ultimately, Quand Vient L’Été embodied more than a season — it was an ode to sunlight, freedom, and quiet happiness. It evoked the scent of a warm afternoon after rain, the memory of laughter on a terrace, and the golden glow of a time when life itself felt like an endless summer.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Quand Vient L’Été is classified as a floral tobacco fragrance for women.

• Top notes: honey, jasmine, mint, lemon, bergamot
• Middle notes: jasmine, rose, heliotrope, ylang ylang, clove, orchid, leather, hay
• Base notes: orris, civet and vanilla

Scent Profile:

The first impression of Quand Vient L’Été unfolds like the moment when sunlight pierces through the last veil of morning mist — golden, fragrant, and alive. The perfume begins with a bright shimmer of lemon and bergamot, their oils cold-pressed from the rinds of fruit grown along the Calabrian coast. Calabrian citrus has a particularly vivid quality — its aroma sparkling and crystalline — due to the high concentration of limonene and citral, natural molecules that give their effervescence a tangy luminosity. 

The citrus is softened by the nectarous warmth of honey, a natural bridge between gourmand sweetness and floral depth. Here, the honey feels golden and sun-thick, evoking bees moving lazily between blossoms in high summer. The note is enhanced by a hint of methyl anthranilate, a molecule naturally present in orange blossoms and jasmine, which lends an almost grape-like lushness that blends seamlessly with the honeyed tones. Threaded through the brightness is a cool whisper of mint, a breeze over the warmth, containing menthol and carvone — refreshing compounds that sharpen the senses and give structure to the otherwise languid opening.

As the fragrance warms on the skin, the heart blooms into a complex tapestry of floral and animalic tones. Jasmine dominates — not the delicate tea-like jasmine of China, but the richer, narcotic Jasmin sambac from India, known for its indole-rich complexity. Indole, a naturally occurring compound found in white flowers, gives jasmine its sensual depth — an almost skin-like warmth beneath its petal softness. In Quand Vient L’Été, this jasmine is deepened by rose, likely a Bulgarian or Turkish variety, whose damascenone molecules add a fruity, honeyed undertone, enhancing the sense of ripeness. 

Ylang-ylang, distilled from the flowers of trees grown in the Comoros or Madagascar, unfurls like molten gold — creamy, exotic, and faintly spicy, rich in benzyl acetate and linalool, which together create a narcotic, solar radiance. Heliotrope lends a tender, powdery sweetness, its almond-like aroma derived from naturally occurring heliotropin (piperonal), which bridges the transition between the floral heart and the creamy base to come.

There is an unusual tension in the middle — a suggestion of clove and hay, balancing warmth with dryness. Clove, distilled from the dried flower buds of the Syzygium aromaticum tree, contributes eugenol — a spicy, medicinal molecule that warms the florals and underscores the faintly leathery quality that follows. 

The hay note, evoking sun-cured grasses, introduces coumarin, one of perfumery’s earliest and most beloved aroma chemicals. Found naturally in tonka bean and sweet clover, coumarin imparts a dry, honeyed warmth that conjures fields baking under the July sun. A subtle trace of leather appears, faint and supple, echoing the scent of gloves and sun-warmed saddles, grounding the airy floral tones in something tactile and sensual.

The base of Quand Vient L’Été settles into a languid, dusky warmth. Orris, derived from the rhizome of the iris plant and aged for years before distillation, brings an exquisite, powdery smoothness — a fusion of violet, suede, and soft earth. Its main constituents, ionones and irones, create a serene, nostalgic quality — a reflection of light on pale silk. Into this comes vanilla, likely from Madagascar, its vanillin sweetness deepened by natural balsamic resins. Vanilla lends a comfort and familiarity that wraps the earlier floral and honeyed notes in a golden haze. 

The faintly animalic civet, once obtained from the civet cat but now replicated synthetically, hums softly beneath — a note of warmth and intimacy that enhances the natural muskiness of the skin. Synthetic civetone, the primary molecule used to reproduce this effect, gives the base its roundness and sensuality without the harshness of the natural extract.

As the perfume evolves, every element seems to shimmer between sunlight and shadow, warmth and air, innocence and seduction. The interplay of honeyed sweetness, sunlit florals, dried hay, and animal warmth feels both nostalgic and alive — as if capturing the memory of summer as it is happening. Quand Vient L’Été smells like the air just before dusk on a long golden day — when the flowers have grown sleepy in the heat, the fields hum with hidden life, and the sky carries the promise of another warm morning to come.

Bottles:

Presented in the Fleuri flacon (parfum), the quadrilobe flacon (parfum) and the Goutte flacon (eau de toilette) starting in 1923. Also presented in the Persane/Mauresque flacon, created by Pochet et du Courval in 1910. Based on a 17th century Persian or Moorish perfume flacon in the Guerlain family collection. This flacon was also used for other Guerlain perfumes.

Photo by ellenaa

photo by ebay seller trust8909

 Photo from dgaudit

photo by ebay seller trust8909

Fate of the Fragrance:

Quand Vient L’Été was eventually discontinued, though the precise date of its withdrawal from Guerlain’s catalogue remains uncertain. Archival mentions confirm that it was still being sold as late as 1953, a testament to its quiet endurance and the affection it inspired long after its debut in 1910. For over four decades, it lingered within Guerlain’s repertoire like a cherished seasonal memory—resurfacing each summer to evoke golden sunlight, honeyed warmth, and the languid ease of long days beneath a blue Parisian sky.

Its discontinuation likely coincided with the evolution of perfumery in the mid-20th century, when tastes shifted toward crisper aldehydic florals and modern chypres. Yet, Quand Vient L’Été represents a bridge between two eras—the romanticism of the Belle Époque and the emerging modernity of postwar France. Even in its absence, the name carries a wistful poetry: Quand Vient L’Été—“When Summer Comes.” The fragrance endures as a whisper of Guerlain’s early artistry, an olfactory memory of sun-warmed petals, sweet hay, and ambered air, echoing from a vanished summer that never entirely faded.

1998 Reissue:

In 1998, Quand Vient L’Été returned briefly from obscurity when Guerlain reissued it as a limited edition of only 2,500 bottles, each presented in the elegant Fleuri flacon, a design steeped in the house’s tradition of refined craftsmanship. This edition contained 75 ml of eau de toilette, a lighter interpretation that sought to capture the original’s golden warmth and nostalgic charm while adapting it to modern sensibilities. The reissue felt like a love letter to Guerlain’s heritage—a quiet nod to collectors and connoisseurs who cherished the grace and poetry of the house’s early works.

After its fleeting reappearance, the fragrance was again discontinued, fading once more into the archives. Yet its story did not end there. In 2005, Guerlain relaunched Quand Vient L’Été for a second time, hoping to rekindle the affection that had once surrounded it. The revival was short-lived, however, as it was withdrawn soon after, leaving behind only a few treasured bottles and the lingering memory of a scent that seemed forever tied to sunlight and fleeting beauty.

This pattern of disappearance and revival mirrors the very spirit of the perfume itself—a fragrance born to celebrate transience, the warmth of passing seasons, and the bittersweet nature of summer’s end. Each reissue served as a delicate reminder of Guerlain’s ability to evoke nostalgia through scent, reaffirming Quand Vient L’Été as one of the house’s most quietly poetic creations.

Guerlinade 1921

Launched in 1921, Guerlinade was both a fragrance and a statement of identity — a perfume that celebrated the very essence of the Guerlain style. Created by Jacques Guerlain, it took its name from the house’s famed perfumery accord of the same name, a harmonious blend of rose, jasmine, vanilla, and tonka bean that became the unmistakable signature woven through nearly every Guerlain creation. Pronounced simply as “gair-lin-ahd,” the word itself carries a distinctly French musicality — light, graceful, and elegant. It is derived from the family name “Guerlain” and the suffix “-ade,” implying a composition, melody, or refrain. In that sense, Guerlinade means “the song of Guerlain,” a poetic encapsulation of the brand’s olfactory language and artistic legacy.

The name conjures images of refinement, warmth, and continuity — a soft echo of familiarity that transcends time. One might imagine the word Guerlinade as the lingering aura of a woman’s perfume on silk gloves, or the memory of powder and flowers mingling in a mirrored boudoir. It evokes a feeling of comfort and sophistication — not ostentatious luxury, but something more personal, elegant, and enduring. To wear Guerlinade was to wear the very heart of the Guerlain house: an intimate expression of its craftsmanship and style.

The perfume debuted at a fascinating moment in history — the early 1920s, a period marked by transformation and modernity. Europe was emerging from the devastation of the First World War, and the Art Deco era was dawning, characterized by its streamlined elegance, bold geometry, and celebration of luxury after years of austerity. Women’s fashion, too, was undergoing a revolution: corsets were disappearing, hemlines were rising, and the liberated garçonne spirit was redefining femininity. Yet amid this newfound modernity, there remained a longing for tradition, beauty, and artistry — qualities that Guerlinade embodied perfectly.

In scent, Guerlinade was the distillation of the Guerlain family’s creative DNA — a floral oriental that balanced classic beauty with sensual warmth. The delicate freshness of rose and jasmine formed the heart of the fragrance, evoking purity, femininity, and grace. These floral notes were softened by the creamy sweetness of vanilla and tonka bean, rich in coumarin, which imparted the smooth, almond-like warmth that became synonymous with the Guerlain signature. The blend of floral, powdery, and ambery tones created a texture both tender and luxurious — like the touch of fine silk on skin.

For women of the time, a perfume called Guerlinade would have held particular meaning. The name itself, directly referencing the house’s identity, suggested something deeply personal and prestigious — a scent born from the intimate artistry of the Guerlain atelier. It represented heritage refined through innovation — a fragrance steeped in tradition yet perfectly suited to the modern woman of the 1920s: elegant, self-assured, and aware of her individuality.

Within the broader landscape of perfumery, Guerlinade aligned with the prevailing trend of floral orientals but distinguished itself through its subtlety and technical mastery. While other perfumers were beginning to experiment with bold synthetics and daring new accords, Jacques Guerlain used modern materials to refine and elevate the familiar, creating a composition that felt timeless rather than fashionable.

In essence, Guerlinade was — and remains — the olfactory soul of Guerlain: a hymn to harmony, warmth, and feminine grace. It captured the perfect balance between the natural and the composed, the intimate and the eternal — a scent that whispered of heritage, artistry, and the enduring beauty of French perfumery.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Guerlinade is classified as a floral oriental fragrance for women.

• Top notes: aldehyde, Sicilian neroli, Calabrian bergamot, Tunisian hesperides, peach
• Middle notes: white lilac, hyacinth, Egyptian jasmine, Egyptian rose, Grasse jasmine, Grasse rose, Moroccan orange blossom, French orris
• Base notes: sage, Mayotte vanilla, Venezuelan tonka bean, almond, Haitian vetiver, Indonesian patchouli, Tibetan musk

I was able to obtain a sample from my good friend Alexandra Star, who has lots of rare antique Guerlain treasures in her etsy shop, Parfums de Paris. If you are interested in experiencing the deliciousness of Guerlinade, stroll on over to her shop and take a look around.  

Scent Profile:

To inhale Guerlinade is to experience the very soul of the House of Guerlain — a symphony of floral warmth and oriental sweetness that seems to breathe with life. Created by Jacques Guerlain in 1921, it opens like the soft flare of morning light — luminous, golden, and tenderly nostalgic. The first impression is a delicate radiance, a whisper of aldehydes sparkling in the air. These synthetic molecules, newly fashionable in early 20th-century perfumery, lend an ethereal brilliance to the composition — a gentle shimmer that lifts the natural ingredients, giving them space to bloom. They do not dominate but illuminate, like sunlight catching on silk.

Then, the citrus heart of the opening unfurls — Sicilian neroli, Calabrian bergamot, and Tunisian hesperides together create a dazzling interplay of freshness and warmth. The neroli, distilled from the blossoms of bitter orange trees along the Sicilian coast, has a honeyed, green brightness — rich in linalool and nerolidol, which lend it a creamy floral depth. Calabrian bergamot, grown in the sun-drenched groves of southern Italy, offers a perfectly balanced citrus note — not sharp but elegant, its linalyl acetate softening the edges into a velvety sparkle. The Tunisian hesperides bring a slightly deeper, more resinous citrus tone — sun-drenched and faintly aromatic, giving a sense of Mediterranean warmth. A hint of peach rounds out this luminous prelude, its velvety fruitiness both soft and inviting. The molecule gamma-undecalactone, responsible for peach’s creamy sweetness, introduces a human warmth — the suggestion of skin touched by sunlight.

The heart of Guerlinade is a breathtaking floral tapestry, where blossoms from across the world intertwine in exquisite harmony. White lilac and hyacinth form the cool, green-floral opening of the bouquet — fresh, dewy, and softly nostalgic, their molecules benzyl acetate and phenylethyl alcohol evoking the scent of early spring gardens. As these fade, the deeper florals unfold: Egyptian jasmine and Egyptian rose, with their lush and sultry warmth, contrast beautifully with their counterparts from Grasse in southern France. Egyptian jasmine, rich in indole and benzyl benzoate, has a fuller, more animalic sensuality, while Grasse jasmine — the legendary Jasmin grandiflorum cultivated for centuries in Provence — is fresher, lighter, and more refined. Similarly, the Egyptian rose is vibrant and spicy, whereas the Grasse rose, bathed in the gentle Mediterranean sun, is the epitome of classic French elegance — delicate, powdery, and romantic, rich in citronellol and geraniol.

Adding further nuance are Moroccan orange blossom and French orris. The orange blossom, grown in the fertile plains of Morocco, introduces a golden radiance — floral yet honeyed, underscored by its natural linalool and terpineol, which lend warmth and smoothness. French orris, extracted from the rhizomes of the Florentine iris after years of aging, brings a cool, powdery grace. Its ionones and irones give off the faint scent of violet and soft leather, linking the heart to the perfume’s velvety base. These florals together create a sensory impression of timeless femininity — the softness of silk, the calm glow of candlelight, the intimacy of a remembered scent.

As Guerlinade settles into its base, it transforms from floral luminosity to a warm, sensual embrace. The sweetness of Mayotte vanilla — sourced from the Comoros archipelago — unfurls with creamy depth. This island’s vanilla, rich in vanillin and heliotropin, carries a distinct warmth, softer and more floral than the Madagascan variety. It melds seamlessly with the Venezuelan tonka bean, whose coumarin adds a velvety, almond-like richness that forms the foundation of the famed Guerlain signature. The almond note enhances this sweetness further, echoing the comforting powder of tonka and the creaminess of vanilla, while the natural and synthetic coumarins work in harmony to give longevity and warmth — a perfect example of Guerlain’s mastery in blending nature with chemistry.

Balancing this indulgent sweetness are earthy and sensual counterpoints — Haitian vetiver, Indonesian patchouli, and Tibetan musk. The Haitian vetiver, prized for its dry, smoky clarity, lends sophistication and structure, grounding the composition with its complex mix of vetiverol and vetivone. Indonesian patchouli, aged to mellow its sharpness, contributes a dark, velvety richness — earthy yet refined, deepening the oriental tone. Finally, the Tibetan musk adds a lingering animalic softness, a whisper of warmth that fuses with skin, creating a sensual aura that endures. The inclusion of sage at the base introduces a subtle aromatic freshness, preventing the fragrance from becoming overly sweet and keeping its balance poised and elegant.

In its entirety, Guerlinade is a portrait of floral serenity wrapped in oriental warmth, an ode to Guerlain’s craftsmanship and artistic continuity. Every element — from the sparkling aldehydes to the sunlit florals and creamy resins — is woven with perfect precision, each note enhancing the next. It smells of continuity, of refinement passed down through generations, of beauty perfected yet never static. To smell Guerlinade is to experience Guerlain’s heartbeat — the fragrant embodiment of elegance, tenderness, and timeless French artistry.

Bottles:

Presented in the Lyre flacon (parfum) from 1921-1959, the quadrilobe flacon (parfum), the flacon Brun Fume starting in 1933, the Guerre flacon (parfum) from 1938-1945 and in the Amphore flacon (parfum) starting in 1955.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still sold in the 1950s.

1998 Reissue:

After decades of silence, Guerlinade returned in 1998 — not as a simple revival, but as a heartfelt homage to the House’s own soul. Jean-Paul Guerlain, the last of the family’s great perfumers, reimagined the legendary 1921 creation into something entirely new: a floriental eau de parfum, luminous yet enveloping, built upon the House’s mythical accord — the Guerlinade. This accord, often described as the “Guerlain essence,” is a secret blend of rose, jasmine, tonka bean, and vanilla that has perfumed every Guerlain fragrance since 1828. In this 1998 composition, Jean-Paul transformed that heritage into a personal and poetic statement — “my gift to women,” he said, “to be used and adorned, then to disappear.”

The story behind its creation feels almost dreamlike. Jean-Paul Guerlain confessed that he literally dreamed the scent — inspired by the handwritten formula books of his forebears, each page filled with the guarded recipes that defined nearly two centuries of French perfumery. Those fragile papers, locked away in Guerlain’s Paris archives, became the muse for a fragrance that would honor both the 200th birthday of founder Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain and the 170th anniversary of the House itself. What emerged was not an echo of the 1921 perfume, but an entirely modern reinterpretation — softer, rounder, and more introspective, with an unmistakable link to Guerlain’s historic DNA.

The fragrance itself opens with a delicate shimmer of bergamot, that quintessentially Guerlain citrus, balancing freshness and refinement. Its radiant opening is quickly softened by a heady bouquet of lilacs, Grasse rose, iris, jasmine, and linden, evoking the timeless grace of French gardens in full bloom. The lilac lends a nostalgic tenderness — airy and slightly powdery — while Grasse rose, the flower of perfumers, adds a velvety richness that feels both classical and comforting. Iris, with its cool, buttery smoothness, introduces that powdered elegance so emblematic of Guerlain, while jasmine brings warmth and sensuality. The linden blossom, often associated with the scent of Parisian springtime, gives a honeyed, golden touch — gentle and luminous.

At its heart lies the Guerlain signature — a luxurious accord of tonka bean, vanilla, jasmine, and orris, underscored by dark animalics and soft resins. The tonka bean from Venezuela infuses the blend with creamy coumarin sweetness, bridging the natural warmth of Mayotte vanilla, whose soft, almost floral quality rounds the fragrance into something intimate and tactile. The deeper notes — ambery resins and animalic undertones — whisper of sensuality and heritage, grounding the floral sweetness in something undeniably human and warm. This interplay between purity and depth, light and shadow, defines Guerlinade’s allure: a scent both ethereal and deeply emotional, modern yet timeless.

Presented as a limited edition flacon by Baccarat, the perfume was encased in an object as refined as its contents. Designed by Robert Granai, the bottle was inspired by a bronze Nepalese wedding vase once used to sprinkle rose water over guests — a gesture symbolizing blessing and good fortune. Its simple, elegant silhouette reflected the purity of Guerlain’s intent, while each presentation included a painted backdrop and an authenticity scroll, emphasizing the exclusivity of this commemorative release.

Only 50,000 bottles were produced worldwide — 3,500 for the United States and 300 for Canada — making it one of Guerlain’s most coveted modern rarities. Priced at $175 for 1.7 ounces, it was not just a perfume, but a piece of Guerlain’s living legacy: a scent that bridges the centuries, where the dream of its creator meets the soul of a dynasty. Guerlinade (1998) stands as a fragrant love letter — to women, to craftsmanship, and to the enduring poetry of the Guerlain name.

2005 Reissue:

It was relaunched in 2005 for the Les Parisiennes line.

• Top notes: Calabrian bergamot, Tunisian hesperides
• Middle notes: white lilac, hyacinth, rose and jasmine from Egypt and Grasse
• Base notes: Mayotte vanilla, tonka bean and French iris.

Cuir de Russie 1872

Cuir de Russie by Guerlain, launched in 1872, captures the romance of an era when the world was fascinated by the exotic allure of Imperial Russia. The name Cuir de Russie translates from French to “Russian Leather” (pronounced kweer duh roo-see), a phrase that instantly evokes images of elegance, adventure, and aristocratic grandeur. The term refers to the distinctive, aromatic leather that had been prized since the 17th century, celebrated for its smoky, tarry fragrance — the result of a Russian tanning process using birch tar oil to soften hides and mask the natural odor of the leather. The result was a scent unlike any other: smoky yet sweet, resinous yet supple, at once evoking a cavalry officer’s gloves, a saddle freshly oiled, and the lingering warmth of woodsmoke rising from a distant hearth.

To European noses of the 19th century, “Cuir de Russie” symbolized luxury and refinement tinged with exotic mystery. The phrase conjured visions of fur-lined sleighs gliding over snowy plains, of ornate samovars steaming in candlelit salons, and of perfumed gloves worn by noblewomen at court. In perfumery, the leather note embodied strength, sophistication, and sensuality, appealing equally to men and women — a rarity for the period. Guerlain’s choice of the name reflected not only a fascination with Russia’s opulence but also a broader 19th-century taste for travel-inspired perfumes, which translated faraway places into scent.

When Aimé Guerlain created Cuir de Russie, the world was in the midst of the Belle Époque’s early stirrings — a period of industrial progress, artistic innovation, and social transformation. Paris was at the center of fashion and luxury, with perfumery beginning to establish itself as both art and science. Women were embracing individuality in their adornment, and fragrance was a powerful form of self-expression. A perfume called Cuir de Russie would have appealed to the sophisticated woman who sought both elegance and daring, someone who wished to wear not just a pretty floral but something earthy, tactile, and intriguingly human. The name alone suggested both refinement and sensual adventure — the scent of well-worn gloves, travel trunks, and the faint smoke of a distant campfire.

In scent, Cuir de Russie would be interpreted as a complex blend of contrasts — the brightness of citrus top notes fading into a heart of smoky birch tar, spiced woods, and soft florals, anchored by a resinous, musky base. The hesperidic top — likely bergamot or orange — added an aristocratic freshness, while the leather accord, formed from birch tar, styrax, and labdanum, conveyed the scent of hand-tooled leather warmed by the body. Spices such as clove, cinnamon, or coriander may have lent warmth and depth, creating an aura of controlled fire beneath the polished exterior. The base would have been rounded with amber, coumarin, and musk, lending animalic softness to the harsher leather tones, transforming ruggedness into allure.

 

For its time, Cuir de Russie was both familiar and revolutionary. The Russian leather accord had long been known in perfumery, but Guerlain’s treatment of it was more refined — less raw hide, more glove-smooth sophistication. The addition of aromatic top notes and softening resins elevated what had once been a masculine accord into something unisex and elegant. This duality made the fragrance timeless. It was strong yet polished, assertive yet tender — a scent that embodied both strength and sensual refinement, perfectly in step with Guerlain’s vision of blending nature, chemistry, and art.

In the landscape of 19th-century perfumery, Cuir de Russie stood apart for its balance of bold character and elegance. Where others leaned toward simple florals or heavy orientals, Guerlain’s creation was nuanced and tactile, capturing the essence of leather — the symbol of craftsmanship, travel, and aristocratic luxury — and transforming it into something ethereal. It was not merely the scent of leather, but the poetry of leather: the memory of journeys, the warmth of touch, and the lingering smoke of history itself.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Cuir de Russie is classified as a spicy leather chypre fragrance for men and women. 

• Top notes: leather, floral notes, bergamot, lemon, petitgrain, neroli, orange blossom, cassie, geranium, aromatic notes, methyl benzoate
• Middle notes: jasmine, gardenia, rose, geraniol, lilac, ylang ylang, leather, spicy notes, patchouli, rosewood and vetiver
• Base notes: terpineol, ambergris, ambreine, vanilla, vanillin, opoponax, sandalwood, civet, oakmoss, leather, musk, musk ketone, musk ambrette, birch tar, tonka bean, coumarin, musk xylene, castoreum, and orris

Recently, I was able to obtain a sample from my good friend Alexandra Star, who has lots of rare antique Guerlain treasures in her etsy shop, Parfums de Paris. If you are interested in experiencing the smokey deliciousness of Guerlain's Cuir de Russie, stroll on over to her shop and take a look around.  

Scent Profile:

To smell Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie is to be transported into a world of polished saddles, candlelit salons, and windswept steppes — a fragrance that embodies the meeting of civilization and wilderness, refinement and raw sensuality. Classified as a spicy leather chypre, it opens with an assertive brilliance, evolves through opulent florals and spices, and settles into a base of profound animalic warmth. Every note seems to tell a story of travel, craftsmanship, and seduction — the olfactory equivalent of fine leather burnished by years of wear and memory.

At first breath, the perfume awakens with the brightness of citrus and herbs — bergamot, lemon, petitgrain, and neroli — their oils distilled from sun-soaked groves in Calabria and Tunisia. Bergamot lends its familiar green sparkle, a natural balance of linalool and limonene that invigorates the senses. Lemon adds a sharper, crystalline zest, while petitgrain, taken from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, contributes a dry, slightly woody counterpoint. The neroli and orange blossom bring a luxurious floral sweetness, distilled from the same flower but extracted differently: neroli by steam distillation, orange blossom by solvent extraction, creating two faces of one bloom — one dewy and ethereal, the other honeyed and warm. The inclusion of cassie, a mimosa-like flower native to Egypt, adds a green, powdery, slightly leathery accent that foreshadows the heart of the fragrance. Methyl benzoate, a naturally occurring component in ylang-ylang and tuberose, enhances the top accord, lending a subtle fruity-floral smoothness that ties together the brightness and depth.

As the citrus brilliance fades, the floral heart unfolds, lush yet tempered with spice and smoke. Here, jasmine, gardenia, and rose blend with ylang ylang and lilac, forming an opulent bouquet that feels both romantic and exotic. The jasmine — likely sourced from Grasse or Egypt — reveals its narcotic indole, a natural compound that gives the flower its animalic undertone. The rose, rich in citronellol and geraniol, introduces a velvety warmth, while geraniol itself, a key aroma molecule, amplifies the natural facets of both flowers, bridging them with seamless grace. The ylang ylang, distilled from blossoms grown in the Comoros, adds a creamy, banana-like sweetness, balancing the sharper spice of clove and coriander, while patchouli and vetiver lend earthy grounding. The heart’s hidden pulse — the faint trace of leather — begins to emerge here, created from smoky birch tar and resins, blended with soft florals to mimic the supple texture of Russian tanned hides.

Then comes the base — dark, sensual, and endlessly layered. It is here that Cuir de Russie reveals its true soul: leather, musk, and ambergris, wrapped in a balsamic cloud of vanilla, opoponax, and tonka bean. Birch tar, distilled from northern birch wood, imparts its inimitable smoky bitterness, conjuring images of polished boots and worn saddles. Ambreine (from ambergris) and opoponax add golden warmth and animalic sweetness, their resins and fixatives deepening the scent’s longevity. Civet and castoreum, both traditional animal essences, lend a feral, human-like warmth — the note of skin itself. The musks, both natural and synthetic (musk ketone, musk ambrette, musk xylene), round and soften the composition, replacing what was once natural musk with cleaner yet still sensual tones. Orris root, from the rhizome of the iris, contributes its powdery, suede-like texture — a final whisper of refinement amid the animalic chorus.

The use of synthetics such as coumarin, vanillin, and the musks was revolutionary for its time. Coumarin, with its scent of newly mown hay and almond, gives a dry sweetness that echoes the tonka bean, while vanillin amplifies the natural warmth of real vanilla and benzoin. Together, they polish the rougher, more untamed notes into a gleaming harmony — a perfect illustration of how 19th- and early 20th-century perfumery bridged the natural and the modern.

In the end, Cuir de Russie smells like power tamed by elegance — an aromatic portrait of leather softened by flowers, smoke smoothed by sweetness. It is both an homage to Russian tradition and an emblem of French refinement — a scent that lingers like the memory of a luxurious coat brushing past in winter air, warm from the body it once adorned.

Bottles:

Presented in the Carre flacon (parfum), the quadrilobe flacon (parfum), the Goutte flacon (eau de toilette), the Amphore flacon (parfum), the Lanterne flacon (parfum), and Stilboide Fluid (hair dressing).

Photo by ellenaa

Photo by anapamama.ru

Photo by Drouot

Photo by ellenaa

Fate of the Fragrance:

According to perfumer Frédéric Sacone, Jacques Guerlain’s 1935 version of Cuir de Russie was not an entirely new composition, but rather a sophisticated reimagining built upon the foundations of two of his earlier masterpieces — Chypre de Paris and Mitsouko. Sacone’s research into Guerlain’s handwritten formula for Cuir de Russie revealed a fascinating creative process: instead of starting from scratch, Jacques Guerlain blended and refined elements of these existing perfumes to craft a new olfactory expression.

This practice was not unusual for Guerlain; he often worked like a composer, revisiting and layering motifs from his earlier works. Chypre de Paris provided the structural backbone — the earthy mosses, labdanum, and citrus that defined the chypre genre — while Mitsouko contributed its voluptuous warmth and emotional depth, infused with peachy lactones and the resinous sensuality of amber and woods. By merging these two, Guerlain transformed the classic chypre accord into something darker, smokier, and more tactile, capturing the essence of tanned leather softened by musks and balsams.

The idea that Cuir de Russie could be “composed” from Chypre de Paris and Mitsouko illustrates Jacques Guerlain’s artistic continuity and mastery of nuance. He treated each fragrance in his portfolio not as an isolated creation but as part of a greater olfactory dialogue. In the 1935 Cuir de Russie, one can imagine the elegant mossy freshness of Chypre de Paris meeting the velvety richness of Mitsouko, their union enveloped in a smoky leather accord that evokes polished riding boots, glove leather, and the faint trace of birch tar.

The result was a fragrance both deeply rooted in tradition and strikingly modern. By weaving together his own past creations, Guerlain crafted a scent that honored the classic chypre lineage while giving it a sensual, animalic twist. In doing so, he reaffirmed his reputation as a perfumer of memory and transformation — one who could take the familiar and render it extraordinary once more.

Still being sold in 1953. Discontinued, date unknown.

Jasmin de Siam 1879

Jasmin de Siam by Guerlain (1879) emerged during an era when perfumery was becoming increasingly refined, a time of fascination with faraway lands and exotic flowers. The name itself — Jasmin de Siam — translates from French to “Jasmine of Siam,” with Siam referring to modern-day Thailand. Pronounced roughly "zhah-mahn duh see-ahm", the phrase rolls off the tongue like a sigh, at once elegant and mysterious. It evokes visions of the Orient as it was imagined in 19th-century France: lush gardens bathed in golden light, night air heavy with tropical blossoms, and silks and spices carried on warm breezes from distant shores. Guerlain’s choice of name would have stirred a sense of romance, travel, and fantasy in the women of the Belle Époque — the perfect embodiment of refined exoticism that Paris so adored.

When Jasmin de Siam was first introduced in 1879, France was in the midst of the Belle Époque, a period marked by prosperity, artistic innovation, and the rise of modern luxury. It was an age of opulence and optimism — electric light, grand theaters, and couture fashion houses flourished. Women’s fashions featured soft, draped gowns in silk and lace, often accented with floral motifs. The image of femininity was one of delicacy and refinement, yet with a growing sense of independence and worldliness. The fascination with the Orient was strong — Asia represented sensual mystery, sophistication, and natural abundance — and perfumers drew inspiration from it freely. A perfume called Jasmin de Siam would have appealed to the Parisienne as both an indulgence and an escape: an invisible silk veil of scent that conjured images of distant palaces, golden temples, and moonlit gardens overflowing with jasmine.

The fragrance itself was conceived as a jasmine sambac soliflore, a tribute to the most intoxicating species of jasmine, native to India and Southeast Asia. Compared to the lighter, fresher jasmine grandiflorum of Grasse, jasmine sambac is denser, creamier, and more sensual — its petals releasing a narcotic sweetness that deepens at night. Its scent contains natural indoles, molecules that lend a faintly animalic nuance, giving the flower its almost human warmth and depth. Guerlain captured this living, breathing character with great precision, allowing the flower’s dual nature — innocent and carnal, radiant and shadowed — to unfold on the skin.

 

Bright, juicy notes of apple and jonquil (daffodil) weave through the composition, lifting the opulent jasmine with a burst of freshness. The apple’s crisp green facet, rich in hexyl acetate, enhances the floral brightness, while jonquil’s narcotic sweetness, touched by traces of phenylacetic acid, adds a honeyed warmth. These nuances transform the jasmine from an exotic bloom into something alive and effervescent — as though sunlight were filtering through its petals.

The base of Jasmin de Siam carries Guerlain’s signature sensuality. Vanilla, sourced from Madagascar, brings a soft, creamy sweetness that wraps the jasmine in warmth. Its main component, vanillin, imparts comfort and roundness, tempering the heady floral intensity. A subtle note of civet lends depth and texture, its animalic warmth enhancing the natural indoles of the jasmine sambac. This balance of purity and seduction — of flower and flesh — is what made Guerlain’s early work so distinctive.

When Jasmin de Siam was reformulated in 1922, the perfume world had evolved. Synthetic molecules like ionones and hydroxycitronellal were now being used to accentuate floral notes, giving perfumers new tools to recreate natural scents with even greater radiance and persistence. Guerlain’s reimagining of Jasmin de Siam would have reflected this modern touch, perhaps smoothing the transitions, brightening the top notes, and extending the trail — the sillage — without losing the soul of the original.

At its heart, Jasmin de Siam was both timeless and of its moment. It followed the 19th-century trend of floral soliflores — perfumes devoted to a single bloom — yet it distinguished itself through its sensual oriental warmth and masterful balance. To the women who wore it, it must have felt like wearing a memory of summer nights beneath faraway skies, a whisper of the exotic wrapped in Parisian elegance. It was a fragrance that united the two great obsessions of the Belle Époque: romance and travel, rendered in scent — the perfume of dreams.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Jasmin de Siam is classified as a floral fragrance for women. Essentially, a jasmine sambac soliflore, but does have bright fruity notes of apples and jonquil and base notes of vanilla and a touch of civet.

• Top notes: apples, jasmine, cassie
• Middle notes: sambac jasmine, jonquil, ylang ylang, rose
• Base notes: vanilla, civet

Scent Profile:

The first impression of Jasmin de Siam unfolds like sunlight breaking over a faraway orchard — radiant, tender, and alive. The opening is crowned by the crisp sweetness of apple, a note that sparkles with freshness and energy. The apple used in perfumery often draws on natural hexyl acetate and cis-3-hexenol, aroma chemicals that give it its green, dewy vibrancy. It evokes the scent of just-bitten fruit, mingling tartness and sweetness in perfect measure. This bright fruitiness awakens the senses and prepares the way for the lush florals that soon follow.

Intertwined with this juicy brightness is the honeyed floral whisper of cassie, a small golden blossom native to Egypt and France, belonging to the acacia family. Its scent is distinctive — powdery, spicy, and subtly animalic — with natural molecules such as benzyl alcohol and anisic aldehyde, which lend a faintly balsamic and almond-like tone. In Jasmin de Siam, cassie functions as the bridge between fruit and flower, softening the sharpness of the apple while deepening the coming heart of jasmine. It lends the fragrance a slightly nostalgic texture, like the feel of silk warmed by the sun.

Then, the perfume’s heart opens with the unmistakable perfume of jasmine sambac — the soul of the composition. Jasmine sambac, unlike its cousin jasmine grandiflorum of Grasse, carries a creamier, more exotic scent — indolic, fruity, and sultry. Grown in India, Thailand, and the southern reaches of China, it thrives in warm night air, releasing its aroma after dusk. Its scent molecules, including indole, benzyl acetate, and linalool, give it both radiance and sensuality — a perfect balance of purity and human warmth. In Jasmin de Siam, it feels like walking through a moonlit garden, where the air is thick with blossoms that seem to glow softly in the dark.

The jonquil, a type of narcissus native to the Mediterranean, adds another layer — a honeyed, almost hay-like sweetness with traces of phenylacetic acid that lend a soft, animal warmth. Jonquil’s narcotic character deepens the jasmine’s sensuality, creating a tender, enveloping middle that feels simultaneously clean and carnal. The addition of ylang-ylang, often sourced from Madagascar or the island of Nossi-Bé, infuses the bouquet with a lush, tropical smoothness. Ylang’s natural components — benzyl salicylate, geranyl acetate, and p-cresyl methyl ether — give it a creamy, banana-like warmth that enhances the jasmine sambac’s velvety quality. It’s as though the jasmine, ylang, and jonquil melt together into a seamless floral radiance, each note amplifying the other’s beauty.

A trace of rose threads through the heart, not dominant but essential. Likely a Turkish or Bulgarian rose absolute, it provides a familiar, classical grace, anchoring the tropical florals with a green, petal-soft balance. Its natural citronellol and geraniol molecules contribute a fresh, slightly lemony nuance, tying back subtly to the bright top of apple and cassie. The effect is painterly — each floral stroke carefully blended into a soft impressionist haze rather than distinct lines.

As the fragrance settles into its base, vanilla unfurls — warm, resinous, and faintly smoky, like sun-dried pods split open to reveal their inky seeds. Madagascar vanilla would likely have been used, prized for its full-bodied sweetness and balsamic depth. Its key molecule, vanillin, provides the creamy, comforting note that softens the entire composition, wrapping the jasmine and fruit in golden light. Yet in classic Guerlain fashion, this sweetness is never cloying — it is refined, tender, and sensual.

Finally, a breath of civet emerges — just enough to add a whisper of animal warmth beneath the florals. Derived historically from the civet cat and later recreated through synthetic means (civetone, for instance), it lends a musky, velvety texture that enhances the natural indolic richness of the jasmine sambac. This final note transforms the perfume from a simple floral into something human and intimate — as though the scent has merged with the wearer’s skin.

Altogether, Jasmin de Siam moves like the shifting light of late afternoon — bright at first, glowing with golden warmth at its heart, and then deepening into a soft, lingering sensuality. It is jasmine as both flower and flesh: luminous, living, and utterly transporting. Through its delicate interplay of natural and synthetic elements, it captures not just the beauty of the blossom, but the memory of air perfumed by it — that elusive, dreamlike breath of paradise.

Bottles:

The perfume was sold in the carre bottle by Pochet et du Courval.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Not sure when it was discontinued but it was still being sold in 1936.

Chypre 53 1909

Chypre 53, created by Jacques Guerlain and first launched in 1909, belongs to one of the most fascinating and formative eras in perfume history. The name “Chypre 53” (pronounced SHEE-pruh sank-trois in French) directly references the classic perfume family known as “chypre,” meaning “Cyprus.” The term originates from the Mediterranean island famed for its sun-warmed herbs, mosses, and resins—ingredients long associated with the earliest forms of perfumery. The number 53 likely denoted either a formula number from the Guerlain archives or a specific internal code used by the house to distinguish this version from other experiments Jacques Guerlain was developing at the time. The name alone conjures images of Mediterranean cliffs carpeted with wild herbs, cistus, and moss, bathed in golden light and cooled by sea air.

At the dawn of the 20th century, perfumery was entering a transformative age. The Belle Époque—a period marked by artistic innovation, optimism, and opulence—was in full bloom. Paris, the heart of haute couture and culture, was alive with movement: Art Nouveau design, the rise of modernism, and the emergence of women’s independence in fashion and society. Perfume, once associated with powder and polite femininity, was beginning to express sensuality, character, and mood. In this context, Chypre 53 would have felt daring and worldly. The chypre structure itself—built around bergamot, labdanum, and oakmoss—embodied a sophisticated tension between freshness and shadow, evoking nature not as a garden, but as wilderness: earthy, resinous, and alive with mystery.

To the women of 1909, a perfume named Chypre 53 would have spoken of exotic travel and cultivated taste. Cyprus and its surrounding regions were viewed through the romantic lens of Orientalism—distant lands filled with aromatic treasures and ancient rites of beauty. The name suggested not a flower garden, but a landscape—sun-drenched, aromatic, and elemental. Wearing it would have conveyed depth and confidence, quite different from the softer floral fragrances typical of the late 19th century. Guerlain’s interpretation, described as a balsamic chypre with Provencal herbs, likely combined the classical chypre accord with aromatic Mediterranean herbs such as thyme, rosemary, and lavender. These would have introduced a green, resinous brightness, echoing the scent of dry hillsides under the sun and giving the composition a distinct southern French character.

In 1909, Jacques Guerlain was still shaping his creative voice, but already his instinct for sensual balance was unmistakable. He would have softened the raw earthiness of the chypre base with Guerlain’s characteristic ambered warmth and balsamic smoothness. Hints of tonka, vanilla, or labdanum may have lent the perfume an enveloping richness—a precursor to his later masterpieces like Mitsouko (1919) and Vol de Nuit (1933). The result was likely a fragrance that felt both grounded and luminous, bridging nature and elegance.

When Chypre 53 was reformulated in 1948, nearly forty years later, the world—and perfumery—had changed dramatically. The postwar period favored refinement and modernity. Materials like synthetic musks and aldehydes had become integral, and the style of chypre itself had evolved to emphasize sophistication and polish. Guerlain’s 1948 version likely preserved the aromatic and mossy character of the original but rendered it smoother, silkier, and more urbane—an evolution from Belle Époque opulence to mid-century grace.

In its time, Chypre 53 stood at the crossroads of nature and modern perfumery. While rooted in classical structure, it reflected Guerlain’s genius for interpreting timeless forms through emotion and atmosphere. To smell it would have been to step into sunlight filtered through Mediterranean leaves, where earth, resin, and air merge—a sensory journey both ancient and utterly new.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Chypre 53 is classified as a balsamic chypre fragrance with notes of aromatic Provencal herbs.

• Top notes: clove, cinnamon, lavender, bergamot
• Middle notes: leather, animalic notes, ambergris, vanilla, ylang ylang, orris, rose, spicy notes, vetiver, patchouli, galbanum
• Base notes: musk, jasmine, oakmoss and Tolu balsam

 
Scent Profile:

Opening Chypre 53 by Guerlain is like stepping into the sun-drenched hills of Provence in late summer—where aromatic herbs warm in the golden light, and the air hums with the mingling of spice, resin, and bloom. From the very first breath, the top notes paint a vivid picture of warmth and vitality. Clove and cinnamon emerge immediately—deep, resinous spices that radiate a dry, balsamic heat. Their primary molecules—eugenol and cinnamaldehyde—produce a sweetly woody warmth that pricks the senses like sunlight on the skin. 

Guerlain often used these spices to awaken the composition with both energy and sensuality, and here they seem to crackle against the freshness of lavender. The lavender, almost certainly from Provence, lends a brisk, aromatic clarity—its high content of linalool and linalyl acetate providing a floral-herbal brightness that cuts through the spices with silvery coolness. Finally, bergamot—sourced traditionally from Calabria, Italy—introduces a sparkling citrus top, rich in limonene and linalyl acetate, giving the fragrance a radiant lift that balances the denser notes to come.

As the perfume settles, Chypre 53 begins to reveal its intricate, shadowed heart. Here, the blend becomes a tapestry of contrasts—animalic warmth woven with creamy florals and dry, green edges. Leather and animalic notes give the perfume its primal pulse: smoky, supple, and tactile, like sun-warmed hide. In the early 1900s, these accords were crafted through natural materials such as castoreum, civet, and birch tar, which added both depth and erotic tension. These animalic materials contain phenols and ketones that lend a smoky, almost human warmth—later softened in modern reformulations through synthetic substitutes such as civetone or castorethone, which preserve the sensual effect without the rawness.

The heart blooms with ambergris and vanilla, hallmarks of Jacques Guerlain’s luxurious style. Ambergris, one of perfumery’s rarest treasures, adds an airy saltiness that amplifies every surrounding note—it’s not heavy but radiant, diffusing the composition with a shimmering warmth. Vanilla, drawn from Madagascar pods, is rich in vanillin, which blends seamlessly with the spices and ambergris to create Guerlain’s signature golden glow. 

Alongside, ylang-ylang—from the Comoros Islands—brings a narcotic, banana-like sweetness, while orris root, the powdery, buttery essence of iris rhizomes aged for years, adds a velvety softness that smooths the spice and leather. The rose contributes fullness and romance, while galbanum, with its piercing green and slightly bitter sap-like scent, sharpens the heart with freshness. Beneath, patchouli and vetiver anchor the composition—earthy and smoky, grounding the floral heat with cool mineral strength.

As the perfume deepens, its base becomes a quiet forest floor—dense, resinous, and softly animalic. Oakmoss forms the soul of this chypre structure: earthy, leathery, and faintly saline, with its naturally occurring evernic acid and dehydroevernolic acid lending a damp, velvety texture reminiscent of moss-covered bark. This is joined by Tolu balsam, a resin from South America, whose vanillic-cinnamic sweetness echoes the top spices, forming a rich, balsamic bridge from beginning to end. Musk, at once intimate and airy, wraps everything in a silken warmth, softening the rough edges of leather and oakmoss. Finally, a whisper of jasmine flickers in the background—an echo of the floral heart, adding a final touch of indolic sensuality that mingles seamlessly with the ambered base.

In Chypre 53, Guerlain captured the duality of nature itself—its sunlight and shadow, its refinement and rawness. The aromatic Provençal herbs and Mediterranean citruses are illuminated by spices, while the heart reveals the animal warmth of skin and resin. The interplay of natural and synthetic materials creates not a clash, but a harmony—where the synthetics, like the vanillin or civetone, polish and extend the natural beauty, ensuring that what begins as an impression of wild, herbal hillsides slowly transforms into the scent of skin kissed by warmth and moss, timeless and human.

Bottles:

Presented in the quadrilobe flacon (parfum) in 1909, the Goutte flacon (eau de toilette) starting in 1923, the Montre flacon (eau de cologne) starting in 1936, and the Amphore flacon (parfum) starting in 1955.

Photo from Just Yesterday

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown, still being sold in 1978.