Veritable Graisse D'Ours

Guerlain’s Véritable Graisse d’Ours (or Graisse d’Ours Liquéfiée) was one of the many hair pomades popular during the 19th century, designed to tame unruly locks, nourish the scalp, and lend a perfumed sheen to the hair. Despite the name, most “bear’s grease” pomades did not actually contain bear fat; instead, they were usually formulated with substitutes such as beef marrow, veal suet, or lard. These animal fats, when rendered and purified, provided a thick, emollient base that softened and conditioned the hair. While not harmful in themselves, their heavy, greasy nature made them prone to rancidity unless balanced with stabilizers and fragrant oils. In their time, such bases were very common in pomades, skin salves, and ointments, prized for their ability to coat and protect.

To this fatty base, perfumers like Guerlain added a mixture of luxurious ingredients that elevated the pomade from a simple grooming product into a scented indulgence. Spermaceti, derived from the waxy oil of the sperm whale (commonly used until the mid-19th century), gave the pomade a firmer, more stable texture. Cocoa butter and olive oil added smoothness and suppleness, while white wax provided body and hold. Compound tincture of benzoin not only imparted a balsamic, resinous sweetness but also served as a natural preservative, slowing the rancid odor of animal fats.

The fragrance bouquet was opulent, unmistakably Guerlain. Bright top notes of orange oil, bergamot, and clove would have provided a lively, slightly spicy opening, cutting through the heaviness of the fat. The heart was lush with floral absolutes—rose otto, jasmine, tuberose, cassie, lavender, and orris—layered to create a soft, powdery elegance. These would have lent the hair a lingering romantic aura, especially as warmth from the scalp helped release their scent. Almond oil contributed a nutty sweetness, while tuberose and cassie offered creamy, animalic undertones.

The resulting pomade would have smelled richly floral, balsamic, and faintly spicy, with an underlying fatty smoothness. It was far more than just a practical product: such pomades were fashionable grooming essentials, associated with elegance, refinement, and even luxury. For women, it promised to keep elaborate coiffures neat while nourishing the hair; for men, it helped achieve the glossy, controlled styles so popular in the era. Though modern noses might find it heavy, in the 19th century this blend of florals, spices, and resins over an oily base would have been the height of sophistication—both a tool of grooming and a quiet form of scented self-expression.

Miniature Perfume Bottle - Pagoda c1970-1978

Guerlain Pagoda Miniature Perfume Bottles, Used from 1970-1978. Glass bottle with triple stacked jade green plastic cap, affectionately known as the "pagoda" mini bottles. These are some of the rarest and most expensive Guerlain minis to collect.

It was used for the following perfumes:

• Shalimar
• Parure
• Chamade
• Chant D’Aromes
• Mitsouko
• Jicky
• L’Heure Bleue

Miniature Bottle - Bouchon Blanc

Guerlain's Bouchon blanc miniature perfume bottles, used during the 1970s.

Guerlain Rouge Compacts c1920s-1930s

Guerlain Powder Compact c1920

Guerlain Powder Compact c1920. Mirror on base, made up of brass, puff is on underside of lid. Guerlain, Paris stamped on the side (see pix). Measures 1 3/8" in diameter.

Guerlain Manicure Kit c1950

The Guerlain Necessaire Manicure Kit, introduced in 1950, reflects the refined elegance and meticulous craftsmanship characteristic of the house’s postwar luxury accessories. Compact and beautifully balanced in design, the travel case measures 11 by 11 centimeters—small enough to slip into a vanity drawer or handbag, yet substantial in its presentation. The exterior is clad in supple burgundy leather, its surface finely grained and finished with a soft sheen that deepens with age. The color choice, a rich wine tone, evokes quiet sophistication and the polished glamour associated with Guerlain’s mid-century beauty line.

Opening the case reveals a neatly arranged interior where every tool has its precise place. The kit includes a pair of tweezers, a nail file, four small bottles of nail enamel, two petite pots, and a fine brush—all elegantly proportioned for travel use. The bottles with plastic screw caps, likely contained a selection of classic Guerlain nail enamels in the fashionable tones of the era—rose, coral, carmine, and the sophisticated muted beige that complemented red-tinted lipsticks. The two pots may have held cuticle cream and hand balm, completing the ritual of hand care that was as much about poise as polish.

More than a simple grooming set, this necessaire embodies Guerlain’s belief that beauty rituals should be both functional and indulgent. Each element, from the smooth leather exterior to the precise fit of the glass bottles within, speaks of French luxury craftsmanship and the postwar revival of personal elegance. It is an object designed not merely for utility, but to bring grace and refinement to even the most practical of daily gestures.

La Pyrommee - Guerlain's First Kohl Eyeliner

The more daring woman of the nineteenth century might have reached for La Pyrommée, a mysterious and exotic eye powder said to bestow a gaze of irresistible intensity. This Arabian-styled kohl was kept in an elegant ivory tube, its surface delicately engraved with an eye motif—an emblem of allure and ancient beauty secrets. Advertising of the era spun a romantic tale around its origins, claiming that Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain had learned its secret formula from an Armenian Pasha, who had shared it with the ladies of his harem. Such a story lent the product an air of Eastern mystique, a blend of luxury, seduction, and forbidden knowledge.

A Parisian press article from 1840 described La Pyrommée in breathless admiration: “The word is made up of Greek words, one of which means fire and the other, eye. So you will immediately understand that Pyrommée is nothing else than the secret of a fiery gaze. Once we have managed to bring the hair to shine and the complexion to glow, now, through this secret, we see the gaze—the soul of beauty and the unveiling of intelligence. This is certainly something that comes close to fame and glory.” The prose captures the era’s fascination with transformation and illusion—the desire not only to appear beautiful but to radiate inner vitality through the eyes themselves.

Despite its success, Pyrommée occupied a controversial place in nineteenth-century society. In an age when cosmetics were associated primarily with actresses and courtesans, respectable women risked scandal by using visible makeup. Yet Pyrommée was different: its dark, smoky trace along the lashes could be applied discreetly, a whisper of seduction rather than a declaration. It offered women a small rebellion against social restraint—a way to express power, mystery, and femininity through something as subtle as a glance.

By the 1950s, Guerlain quietly ended the sale of Pyrommée, closing a century-long chapter of beauty history. Still, its legend endures as one of Guerlain’s earliest and most enchanting creations—a cosmetic that turned not just heads, but hearts, with the promise of a “fiery gaze.”

L'Artiste, 1856:

"Fashion has its victims just as love does—one sacrifices to it with rapture. It asserts itself, dominates, and tyrannizes. It takes hold of everything. It begins with perfumery, extending even to furniture, draperies, and, astonishingly, to pastries. The “fashion of indulgence” has its charms, just as the perfumed fashions of Guerlain do—his Caprifolium, Violette des Bois, Verveine, Clématite, and all those English-style bouquets that form a graceful keepsake of ambrosia and honey in the kingdom of flowers.

Guerlain is more than a perfumer—he is a learned chemist. He has discovered the secret of selling eternal beauty and deceiving nature itself. He has studied ancient manuscripts and drawn from them talismans of coquetry: Rouge de la Reine, Rouge de Damas, Rouge Plessis; Crème Lis, Blanc de Perles, Paillé, Rosé and Demi-Rosé, and Poudre de Lis (Persian Powder of Lily) to whiten the skin. With all of Guerlain’s fragrant illusions, a daughter of Eve may rejuvenate herself and bestow upon her face a beauty all the more dangerous because it is not real.

The charm of that little black powder called Pyrommée, placed at the edge of the eyelids, is irresistible. Men know very well that such eyes are artificial, yet they are always ensnared by them—like naïve butterflies, drawn helplessly to the light and the sun."

All the Year Round, Volume 6 By Charles Dickens, 1862:

Thirdly, there is a fine black powder, delicately packed in small ivory cases and fitted with a tiny applicator at one end. Sold under the names Koheuil or Pyrommée, it is used to darken the eyelashes and the rims of the eyelids—intended, as the label boldly proclaims, “to render the glances most provoking.”

 

Les Coulisses de la Mode, 1888:

"The profession of ladies’ hairdresser is no longer as lucrative or as dazzling as it was under the Second Empire, because social life has remained stagnant for many years. Nevertheless, the art of hairdressing has not declined, thanks to the schools to which we will soon turn our attention. A ladies’ hairdresser charges five francs for an ordinary city or dinner hairstyle, which requires only a few crimped sections, bands, or a braid. A ball hairstyle, which demands the use of flowers or feathers in the hair, costs between fifteen and twenty francs. A powdered hairstyle is paid at twenty to thirty francs, a historical hairstyle at thirty to forty, and finally, a fancy or costume hairstyle rises from forty to fifty francs.

When there is a grand ball at the home of the Princess de S., for example, one must make an appointment long in advance to be styled by a well-known hairdresser. The latter schedules his clients every half hour. On the appointed day, he gets into his carriage and arrives at his first client’s home at two in the afternoon; twenty-five minutes are enough for him to construct even the most elaborate hairstyles, for he has prepared in advance all the accessories he will need. It is quite common that by eleven o’clock at night, he still has one or two clients left to attend to. The ladies’ hairdresser does not limit himself to styling hair—he also applies makeup. This is what he calls bringing harmony to the face: a very light stroke of pencil to make the eyebrows appear thicker, darker, and to add brilliance to the eyes; a barely perceptible touch of Pyrommee powder to veil eyelids that are red or puffy; a drop of rose extract to give the lips a lasting color that does not fade when drinking, eating, using a handkerchief, or simply running the tongue over the lips. Sometimes, the hairdresser goes even further—he colors, in the same manner, the inside of his client’s nostrils or ears."

Town Topics, the Journal of Society, Volume 29, 1893: 

"My dear Lena, you asked me to see about some small articles de toilette. So I went to Guerlain's and this is what he suggests for you. An etui of Pyrommee for the eyes, it certainly makes one's eyes look better and is quite harmless. It contains a little India rubber tampon that you pass gently under and over your eyelashes, but before using it, blow off the black that is too thick or you will have too much on and look as if you had two lovely black eyes. It undoubtedly gives brilliancy to the eyes and does not show in the least, I use it as well for my eyebrows, the least little soupcon and I am sure you have never noticed it. To keep your powder on, there is one famous article from Guerlain's called Creme Patti. The Comtesse de B. always uses it and she is certainly the best arranged woman in France. You put it on all over your face and rub it well in. Don't think it is greasy for it is not. Her face never looks hot or greasy. Then you wipe it off with a soft towel and put your powder on lightly. If you want any rouge, and if you are feeling tired or ill, it is sometimes necessary try lip salve on your cheeks, tout bonnement, and a little powder on the top of it. Rouge gives such a hard expression I think, whereas lip salve no one can see. I defy them to find you out, and one hates one's little secrets to be revealed to the world. I ordered you yards of Heliotrope flannel to put in the wardrobes and also on your bodies as sachet powder invariably comes out and makes a dust. A new perfume called Nice Dear. I thought irresistible. In France, we adopt a perfume and stick to it. One's scent is really part of one's self. l am sure you will like Nice Dear enough to wish not to change again, and that you will find with the Creme Patti and the Poudre de Blanc de Perles, the lip salve, and the black for your eyes, time and weather are naught to you, Lena dear, I swear secrecy, no torture could wrench this secret from my lips,"

Österreichischer Bühnen-Verein, 1895:

“Pyrommee, when applied between the eyelids, gives the eye a captivating look and a phenomenal shine. Price per piece: 3 florins.”