Industria Argentina

Prior to 1930, Guerlain created an exceptionally rare Argentinian edition of L’Heure Bleue, a bottle that reveals much about the house’s early international strategy. The front label carries the unusually worded “GUERLAIN PARIS Bs. AIRES,” flanked by “Extracto” (perfume extract) and “Industria Argentina.” This blending of French prestige with Spanish-language detail underscores that the bottle was not an export from Paris but a locally produced article for the Argentinian market. Such examples are vanishingly rare, making this bottle an object of particular interest to both collectors and historians.

Argentina, before the upheavals of the Second World War, possessed one of the wealthiest upper classes in the world. Until the 1920s it was the leading non-European luxury export market, surpassing even the United States, which only overtook it around 1920. Guerlain’s decision to produce bottles and labels locally reflects both the purchasing power of Buenos Aires society and the sophistication of a market eager to associate itself with French elegance.

The bottle is fitted with two back labels: “contenido 20 cc neto” (net content 20 cc, or approximately two-thirds of a fluid ounce) and “Guerlain Perfumista S.A., graduación alcohólica 37 gr” (Guerlain Perfumers, 37-proof alcohol). Most telling of all, the base is molded with “GUERLAIN INDUSTRIA ARGENTINA,” an explicit declaration of local manufacture. This stands in stark contrast to Guerlain bottles destined for Europe and North America, which invariably bore French markings.

The presentation box, too, departs from international norms. Unlike the richly printed packaging sold in Paris, London, or New York, the Argentinian boxes carried no prominent GUERLAIN branding on their exteriors. Instead, the back bore only a modest label naming the retailer, almost certainly one of the luxury shops situated in central Buenos Aires. This discreet approach suggests that Guerlain relied on local prestige retailers to lend their imprimatur to the product, while the fragrance itself served as the ambassador of Parisian refinement.

Taken together, these details illustrate not only the rarity of this particular bottle but also Guerlain’s adaptation to Argentina’s unique luxury economy, in which French goods were both status symbols and deeply embedded in local patterns of consumption. For collectors, the survival of such a piece represents an extraordinary discovery; for historians, it is a material witness to the globalization of French perfume before World War II.

Among the most intriguing Argentinian Guerlain bottles are the carré flacons produced for Jicky. These square, utilitarian bottles were adapted for the South American market, yet they preserve the prestige of the Parisian house through their markings. The old labels, now heavily worn and in poor condition, are printed with “Extrait Jicky” along with the designation “Industria Argentina” at the top—clear evidence of their local production.

The glass itself bears unmistakable Guerlain signatures. The base is embossed with “Guerlain France Paris,” while one side carries the “Woman with Flags” logo, a hallmark emblem of the house. Standing approximately four inches tall, the bottle is compact but instantly recognizable as Guerlain. Despite its modest size, it would have held one of the house’s most legendary perfumes in extract form.

What makes these bottles particularly significant is their hybrid identity. The finished products were assembled and sold in Argentina, using imported French concentrates that Guerlain shipped overseas. This practice ensured that the essence of the perfume remained authentically Parisian, even while the packaging and distribution were tailored to the South American market. For the wealthy clientele of Buenos Aires and beyond, such bottles symbolized both French refinement and local accessibility.

Today, surviving examples are rare, and those that surface often bear the scars of time, as with these damaged labels. Yet their historical value remains immense. They testify not only to Guerlain’s early global ambitions but also to the importance of Argentina as a thriving luxury market in the years before World War II..

Frangipanni c1828

Frangipani by Guerlain was launched in 1828. In 1879, it's name was listed as Frangipanni.

The name Frangipani carries with it an air of aristocratic antiquity, entwining the arts of perfumery, legend, and lineage. The origins of this celebrated scent trace back to one of Rome’s most ancient noble families — the illustrious Frangipani — whose ancestry reached into the ranks of senatorial Rome and whose charity during times of famine lent them their name: frangi panis, or “bread breakers.” Their generosity gave rise to their name; their ingenuity, to their fragrance.

It was a later descendant, the Marquis Frangipani, who earned immortal fame not for deeds of arms, but for his skill in scent. A soldier under Louis XIII and grandson of Mutio Frangipani — who had served the French crown in the Papal armies of Charles IX — the Marquis is said to have invented the earliest composition of the perfume known as Frangipane. His creation, described in seventeenth-century accounts such as Pierre Bayle’s Historical and Critical Dictionary (1697), took the fashionable circles of Paris by storm. He devised a means to perfume leather — notably the elegant gloves worn by the nobility — transforming a simple accessory into a vehicle of refined luxury. These Guanti di Frangipani, or Frangipani’s Gloves, became synonymous with sophistication, the scent lingering like a whisper of status and sensuality upon the wearer’s hands.

Writers of the era chronicled both the man and his invention with admiration and curiosity. Menage, in his Origini della Lingua Italiana (1685), remarked on the Parisian vogue for the perfumed gloves; while Balzac himself, in a letter to Madame Defloges, spoke of the Marquis’s famed “pastilles,” fragrant compositions that, he promised, would become “more renowned than Frangipani’s Gloves.” To Balzac, this perfumer was no mere tradesman but a Roman lord of good repute — “worth above thirty thousand livres a year… related to St. Gregory the Great… and one of the worthiest men in the world.”

Yet, the true formula of the original Frangipani perfume remains shrouded in mystery. The Monthly Magazine of Pharmacy (1883) lamented that its exact composition “has not been discovered,” though perfumer G.W.S. Piesse, in The Art of Perfumery, recorded a version said to contain “every known spice in equal proportions,” combined with ground orris root and a trace of musk and civet. These ingredients were steeped in spirits of wine, which “dissolved out the fragrant principles,” producing a scent of exceptional persistence. This early Frangipane powder was said to be the most lasting perfume known, exuding warmth, sensuality, and the faint suggestion of an Oriental exoticism much prized in the Baroque age.

By the eighteenth century, Frangipani had become both a fashionable perfume and a term applied to pomades, sachets, and essences. Even so, its legend continued to evolve — eventually merging with the discovery of a new botanical treasure. In the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1872) and in later perfumery journals, the name Frangipani was attributed to the sweetly scented Plumeria alba, a tropical flowering tree native to the West Indies. One account tells of the Italian botanist Mercutio Frangipani, sailing with Columbus on the Santa Maria in 1493, who, upon nearing the island of Antigua, recognized the intoxicating fragrance wafting across the water as belonging to this very plant.

Thus, the name of a Roman noble became forever linked to the perfume of an island flower — a poetic fusion of European refinement and New World luxuriance. The plumeria, yielding what was once called the “eternal perfume,” offered a natural echo of the long-lost Frangipane essence. Its creamy, velvety blossoms exhale a scent of almond-like sweetness and sun-warmed petals, reminiscent of vanilla and jasmine with a faint spice of clove. Chemically, the flower’s fragrance arises from a symphony of benzyl salicylate, linalool, and heliotropin — molecules that lend warmth, brightness, and powdery depth. When paired with modern synthetics such as coumarin and vanillin, these components recreate the ancient accord’s balance between sensuality and serenity, between the Mediterranean powder of orris and the tropical milkiness of plumeria’s heart.

What began as a Roman invention for perfumed gloves transformed, over centuries, into the olfactory symbol of exotic paradise. Whether born of leather and spice or of island blossoms and creamy florals, Frangipani endures as a perfume that unites two worlds — the cultivated grace of the Old World and the sunlit lushness of the New. Its legacy is not merely that of a scent, but of history itself — of invention, nobility, and the eternal pursuit of beauty through fragrance.

Frangipanni by Guerlain is a luminous interpretation of one of perfumery’s oldest and most romantic accords — the frangipani bouquet. From the very first impression, the fragrance blooms with the soft, narcotic charm of plumeria, whose creamy petals exude an aura both sunlit and sensuous. The flower’s natural aroma is a complex harmony of sweetness and spice — a mingling of heliotrope, jasmine, and almond-like tones that unfurl like silk under warmth. In Guerlain’s hands, this tropical blossom is treated not as an exotic novelty, but as the heart of a classic French composition, interlacing nature’s bounty with the house’s signature balance of richness and refinement.

Throughout the 19th century and well into the early 20th, Frangipani was among the most beloved names in perfumery. Nearly every perfume house offered its own variation, each formula built upon a shared structure — a lush floral heart sweetened by powdery orris, softened with vanilla, and warmed with spices or balsamic notes. The appeal of this style lay in its opulent texture and its ability to suggest both purity and indulgence: a floral bouquet dusted with warmth and cream. Recipes for Frangipani appeared in numerous perfumers’ formularies of the era, and though many followed similar foundations, each creator sought to leave a distinct mark. One perfumer might heighten its creamy facets with more benzoin or tonka bean, while another would emphasize its brightness with orange blossom or rose. In this way, Frangipani became not a single scent, but a family of interpretations bound by a shared idea — a floral ideal refined through artistry and chemistry alike.

When Guerlain introduced its own Frangipanni around 1900, it arrived at a pivotal moment in perfume history — when natural extractions and tinctures were beginning to share the stage with newly discovered synthetics. Early Frangipani formulas had relied almost entirely on costly natural materials: true orris butter for its violet-powder smoothness, tinctured tonka beans for a soft coumarin warmth, and infusions of plumeria and jasmine that lent the perfume its radiant floral body. Yet by the turn of the century, modern chemistry had changed the art. New aromatic compounds such as heliotropin (piperonal), coumarin, and vanillin allowed perfumers to shape nature’s scent more precisely, reinforcing or extending what time and expense had once limited.

In Frangipanni, these synthetics acted not as substitutes, but as enhancements — heliotropin amplifying the almondy, powder-soft tone of plumeria; coumarin echoing the hay-sweet smoothness of tonka; and vanillin weaving an elegant creaminess through the base. Their inclusion gave the perfume a luminous roundness and an endurance that natural materials alone could not achieve. Guerlain’s mastery lay in his ability to fuse these modern notes seamlessly with natural essences — to make chemistry serve poetry.

The result was a fragrance that seemed both timeless and modern, echoing the romantic florals of the past yet glowing with the new brilliance of the Belle Époque. Frangipanni by Guerlain captures the essence of that transition — a perfume born of ancient legend, perfected by scientific innovation, and steeped in the soft golden light of turn-of-the-century elegance.

Fragrance Composition:

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

• Top notes: bergamot, lemon, orange, Portuguese neroli, orange blossom, lavender, bitter almond, cassie, pimento, ginger
• Middle notes: jasmine, tuberose, ylang ylang, hyacinth geraniol, reseda geraniol, rose, rose geranium, coriander, clove, cinnamon, violet, orris, ionone, angelica
• Base notes: heliotropin, styrax, storax, licari, sandalwood, cedar, vetiver, musk, vanilla, vanillin, benzoin, tonka bean, coumarin, civet, tolu balsam, Peru balsam, saffron, ambergris

Scent Profile:

To experience Guerlain’s Frangipanni is to step into a luminous garden perfumed with golden light — an olfactory world where warmth and powder, flower and spice, sensuality and refinement coexist in perfect harmony. Classified as a floral oriental fragrance, it captures the lush opulence of turn-of-the-century perfumery, when natural extractions and emerging synthetics were woven together to create new, enduring forms of beauty.

The first impression is radiant — bergamot, lemon, and orange shimmer together like morning sunlight over polished marble. Guerlain’s bergamot, likely sourced from Calabria, Italy, carries that distinctive green-tea brightness and a faint whisper of bitterness that prevents the citrus from turning sugary. Natural bergamot oil is rich in linalyl acetate and limonene, molecules that give it that airy, floral effervescence. As it mingles with Portuguese neroli and orange blossom, the citrus sharpness mellows into something silken and honeyed — the neroli lending a slightly metallic sparkle, while the orange blossom deepens with the tender warmth of indole, a natural compound that lends white flowers their sensual undertone.

A note of lavender threads through this brightness — an unusual yet sophisticated contrast. It introduces the clean herbaceous side of the Mediterranean, balancing sweetness with a breeze of aromatic calm. Then, just as you settle into that serenity, a surprising complexity arises: bitter almond adds a faintly marzipan-like smoothness, its benzaldehyde content echoing the almondy heart of heliotrope. Cassie (Acacia farnesiana), with its powdery, violet-like bloom, softens the composition further, while pimento and ginger strike through the sweetness with sparks of warmth — red and gold accents that awaken the senses, evoking the texture of antique embroidered silk.

As the perfume unfolds, Frangipanni reveals a heart of mesmerizing florals, each one rendered with Guerlain’s characteristic precision. The core is a lush white-flower accord — jasmine, tuberose, and ylang-ylang — creamy, heady, and incandescent. The jasmine, likely Jasmin grandiflorum from Grasse, exudes a perfect balance of green freshness and narcotic richness; its benzyl acetate lends a ripe fruitiness that feels alive. Tuberose, by contrast, is velvet and flesh — its methyl salicylate and indole molecules creating a warm, intoxicating hum that vibrates with sensuality. Ylang-ylang, sourced from the Comoros or Madagascar, contributes its uniquely creamy, banana-like sweetness, filled with benzyl benzoate and linalool — materials that smooth the edges of the white blossoms and lend the fragrance its languid, tropical warmth.

Threaded among these voluptuous blooms are hyacinth and reseda (mignonette), bringing green, pollen-flecked freshness; rose and rose geranium add a rosy-pink glow. Bulgarian rose absolute, prized for its balance of sweetness and spice, contains citronellol and geraniol — natural molecules echoed by the addition of pure geraniol, intensifying the floral brightness while enhancing the scent’s natural diffusion. Coriander, clove, and cinnamon emerge like warm tendrils of shadow beneath this brightness, giving the bouquet its oriental depth. These spices are not harsh — they are powdered, refined, suggesting the scent of perfumed gloves or embroidered sachets stored in mahogany drawers.

The florals are further softened by violet and orris root. The orris, distilled from aged Florentine iris rhizomes, adds a cool, powdery veil, rich in ionones that smell of violet, suede, and pale wood. Guerlain reinforces this natural orris with synthetic ionone, lending a smooth continuity and extending the violet’s persistence beyond nature’s limits. Finally, angelica introduces an herbaceous muskiness — a breath of earth and resin that anchors the heart, giving it realism and warmth.

The drydown of Frangipanni is sumptuous and long-lasting — a masterful blend of balsams, woods, musks, and vanillic sweetness. Here the perfume transforms from a bouquet into an embrace. Heliotropin (piperonal), with its almond-vanilla softness, echoes the top’s bitter almond note and gives the entire fragrance a gentle, comforting halo. This is joined by styrax, storax, and licari (a type of resinous wood), each contributing smoky, ambered tones. Sandalwood, likely from Mysore, deepens the perfume with its characteristic creamy, milky texture — rich in santalols, molecules that radiate warmth and smoothness, binding all notes together like golden resin.

The woodiness is extended by cedar and vetiver — dry, smoky, slightly earthy — creating a subtle backbone that prevents the perfume from collapsing under its floral richness. Then comes vanilla and vanillin: the natural extract from Madagascar carries sweet, spicy warmth, while the synthetic vanillin heightens its radiance, adding brilliance and projection. Benzoin from Siam lends a balsamic, toffee-like sweetness, harmonizing with tonka bean and coumarin, whose hay-like, almondy warmth extends the heliotrope accord.

The animalic undertone — a whisper of civet and ambergris — lends a human warmth, that faint skin-like softness that was so prized in 19th-century perfumery. These materials were never used to shock, but to breathe life into the perfume, giving the illusion that the flowers themselves were alive. Tolu and Peru balsams bring depth and sweetness, their natural cinnamic acids and benzoic esters blending beautifully with saffron’s honeyed spice.

As Frangipanni settles on the skin, the entire composition melts into a warm, glowing aura — powdery, creamy, and faintly smoky, like the lingering scent of perfume-soaked gloves. It is both nostalgic and timeless, a testament to the craftsmanship of the Belle Époque, when perfumers sought not merely to imitate nature, but to refine it into art.

 

Bottles:

Presented in the Carre flacon.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still being sold in 1879.

Double Extrait de Fleurs d'Oranger c1833

Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger by Guerlain, launched around 1833, represents one of the earliest expressions of French perfumery’s devotion to refinement and luxury. The name, Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger, is French, pronounced "doo-bluh ex-tray duh flur dor-ahn-zhay", meaning “Double Extract of Orange Blossom.” The phrase evokes opulence and purity—a sense of something intensely distilled, luminous, and precious. To the 19th-century ear, the words would have sounded elegant and indulgent, promising a fragrance of exceptional richness and sophistication.

The imagery conjured by Fleurs d’Oranger is unmistakably romantic and deeply tied to notions of purity, femininity, and celebration. In Europe, particularly in France, orange blossom was the quintessential bridal flower, woven into wedding veils and bouquets to symbolize innocence, virtue, and eternal love. The addition of “Double Extrait” transforms this delicate floral symbol into something more powerful and sensual—no longer merely a whisper of orange blossom, but a radiant, concentrated essence. It would have evoked the glow of sunlight filtering through orange groves in Provence or along the Mediterranean coast, the air perfumed with blossoms in full bloom.

When Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain created this fragrance, it was the dawn of modern perfumery. The 1830s were part of the Romantic period—a time of heightened emotion, beauty, and artistic exploration. Fashion was evolving toward more graceful silhouettes, delicate fabrics, and an emphasis on refinement and detail. Perfume was beginning to shift from simple floral waters and colognes toward more complex compositions. The name Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger perfectly captured this transition—it promised both the natural purity of floral distillation and the technical mastery of high perfumery.

To women of the time, this perfume would have represented a balance between decorum and desire. Orange blossom was already a familiar and beloved scent, often associated with bridal trousseaus and personal adornment. But Guerlain’s “double extrait” offered a richer, more luxurious version, a scent that lingered on the skin like silk. It was likely seen as both comforting and aspirational—a fragrance that embodied the refinement of Parisian society while celebrating the natural beauty of the flower itself.

In scent, Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger would have interpreted its name through layers of neroli, petitgrain, and orange flower absolute—capturing the bitter-green freshness of the leaves, the honeyed sweetness of the blossoms, and the waxy, radiant warmth of the petals. The addition of natural aroma compounds such as linalool (responsible for its floral brightness), nerol (soft and rosy), and methyl anthranilate (which lends an intoxicating, grape-like sweetness) gave the perfume its depth and harmony. Later perfumers enhanced these natural qualities with synthetic counterparts, amplifying the blossom’s natural radiance and prolonging its longevity on the skin.

Compared to other fragrances of its time, Guerlain’s Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger stood out for its concentration and refinement. While most perfumers of the early 19th century offered simple orange blossom waters or colognes, Guerlain transformed the familiar floral note into a luxurious statement of sophistication—an early hallmark of the artistry that would come to define the house. It bridged the natural beauty of the Mediterranean flower with the emerging precision of modern perfumery, offering not just a scent, but an experience: sunlight bottled, intensified, and eternal.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Double Extrait de Fleurs d'Oranger is classified as a floral oriental (floral amber) fragrance — or more specifically, a floral amber with citrus and animalic undertones.

• Top notes: bergamot, petitgrain, neroli bigarade, nerol, bitter orange, lemon, Portugal orange, orange blossom, cassie, linalool
• Middle notes: rose, geraniol, jasmine, indol, ylang ylang, orange blossom, methyl anthranilate, isoeugenol, cinnamon
• Base notes: terpineol, musk, civet, orris, patchouli, sandalwood, ambergris, heliotropin, musk ketone, musk ambrette, vanillin, benzoin, tolu balsam

Scent Profile:

Opening the flacon of Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger, one is immediately enveloped in an aura of warmth and radiance, as though stepping into a Mediterranean garden at the height of spring. The fragrance begins with a bright and sun-drenched burst of bergamot, its lively green sparkle mingling with the soft bitterness of petitgrain—the distilled essence of orange leaves and twigs from the Citrus aurantium tree. Petitgrain from Paraguay, prized for its dry, woody-green sharpness, adds structure and lift to the sweetness of the blossoms. The effervescent zest of lemon and bitter orange, likely from Calabria, layers in crisp clarity, the natural aldehydes in citrus peels providing brilliance and diffusion. Intertwined with these is neroli bigarade, distilled from the delicate white flowers of the bitter orange tree in Tunisia or Morocco. Neroli’s unique composition of linalool, nerol, and linalyl acetate releases a silken radiance—floral, honeyed, yet lightly metallic—capturing the feeling of warm sunlight glancing off dew-touched petals.

As the perfume unfolds, the core of its beauty blooms: the heart is a sumptuous tapestry of orange blossom, jasmine, and rose, intertwined with the tender powder of cassie and the creamy, solar warmth of ylang-ylang from the Comoros Islands. The orange blossom absolute, richer and more sensual than neroli, brims with methyl anthranilate—an aroma chemical that lends a fruity, grape-like sweetness and the faintest shadow of indolic warmth. This compound, when combined with the natural indole found in jasmine, gives the floral accord its living, skin-like depth, transforming the bouquet from innocent to intimate. Geraniol, a key component of rose and geranium, adds a lemony-fresh brightness that balances the narcotic sweetness of the white florals. Cinnamon, warm and spicy, flickers through the heart like a trace of sunlight—its cinnamic aldehydes introducing a soft ambered warmth that anticipates the base to come.

The middle accords rest on a quiet undercurrent of isoeugenol, a naturally occurring molecule in cloves and ylang-ylang that provides subtle spiciness and a creamy, woody undertone. Together, these elements create a living floral symphony—each note breathing, glowing, and deepening over time. The interplay between natural absolutes and synthetics like methyl anthranilate and isoeugenol reveals Guerlain’s early mastery of contrast: the precision of modern chemistry enhancing the soul of natural beauty rather than replacing it.

As the fragrance settles into its base, the composition turns soft, balsamic, and faintly animalic. Orris, from the rhizomes of Florentine iris, lends an ethereal powderiness, its ionones adding a cool violet nuance that softens the floral warmth. Ambergris, once gathered from the sea, and civet, derived historically from civet cats, bring a subtle sensuality—salty, musky, and almost creamy—melding with musk ketone and musk ambrette, two early synthetic musks that give longevity and refinement to the perfume. Their clean warmth magnifies the animalic richness of the natural ingredients, ensuring the scent lingers with elegance rather than ferocity.

Finally, the base of benzoin and tolu balsam—resins with sweet, vanillic, and slightly smoky tones—anchors the perfume in an ambered glow. Vanillin enhances the natural creamy sweetness of these balsams, while heliotropin (piperonal) adds a soft almond-powdered nuance, bridging the floral heart and the musky woods below. Threads of patchouli and sandalwood weave through the drydown, their earthy, velvety tones grounding the opulent bouquet in warmth and sophistication.

The experience of Double Extrait de Fleurs d’Oranger is like walking through an orange grove at dusk—petals and leaves crushed underfoot, air heavy with blossoms, resin, and sunlight fading into skin. It is both luminous and deep, refined yet alive, its radiance amplified by the subtle hand of synthetic artistry. In its day, this would have been a revelation: the purity of nature distilled to its most luxurious and lasting form, a true testament to Guerlain’s early genius for transforming the familiar into the sublime.

Bottles:

It was housed in the Flacon carre (parfum) starting in 1870.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still sold in 1914. You can purchase a bottle or sample from my good friend Alexandra Star.

Lolium Agriphyllum 1848

Lolium Agriphyllum by Guerlain, launched in 1848 as part of the Jardin d’Hiver Collection, carries a name that feels both botanical and mysterious — a Latin echo of cultivated fields and wild meadows. The title combines Lolium, the Latin term for ryegrass, with Agriophyllum, a genus of hardy flowering plants belonging to the amaranth family. The name suggests something at once pastoral and intellectual: a cultivated nature, tamed and refined for elegant society. Pronounced "LOH-lee-um Ah-GREE-fill-um", it rolls from the tongue like a line of classical verse, evoking both the scholarly precision of Latin taxonomy and the romantic imagery of nature studied, classified, and distilled into scent.

In translation, Lolium Agriphyllum means “ryegrass of the field leaf,” though its connotations extend beyond literal botany. The name conjures images of sunlit meadows after rain, sheaves of drying grass, and the faint sweetness of hay mingling with distant wildflowers. The use of “Lolium” might also have been an artistic nod to Lolium temulentum—known as “darnel,” or “false wheat”—a plant historically associated with intoxication and illusion. In this sense, the name hints at a fragrance that is deceptively soft, yet subtly bewitching, like a whisper of nature laced with elegance and danger.

When this perfume appeared in 1848, Europe stood at a cultural crossroads. It was the year of revolutions—social, artistic, and intellectual. In France, the Second Republic was born, and with it came renewed interest in nature, symbolism, and individual expression. Fashion leaned toward romanticism: soft silhouettes, floral motifs, and natural beauty idealized through art and design. The upper classes filled their conservatories with exotic plants and their dressing tables with perfumes that mirrored the botanical world. Guerlain’s Jardin d’Hiver Collection perfectly embodied this trend—a series of refined floral and herbal bouquets named in Latin, evoking both science and poetry, civilization and wilderness.

To a woman of the mid-19th century, Lolium Agriphyllum would have suggested something refreshingly different from the overtly floral perfumes of the day. While rose, jasmine, and violet dominated feminine perfumery, this fragrance promised something earthier and more introspective — a study in greens, grasses, and sunlit fields. The name alone would have appealed to the era’s fascination with botany and the “language of flowers,” when even the most genteel women took an interest in the natural sciences as a mark of refinement. Wearing Lolium Agriphyllum might have felt like an embrace of rustic simplicity reinterpreted through the lens of Parisian sophistication — nature, but made elegant.

In scent, Lolium Agriphyllum may have opened with the freshness of cut grass, dew, and wild herbs, supported by subtle floral and woody undertones. Imagine the delicate sharpness of crushed stems, mingled with clover honey and the faint spice of meadow blossoms. Early perfumers likely achieved this effect through tinctures of hay, clover, and resins, balanced by aromatic herbs such as thyme or lavender. The base would have been warm and slightly balsamic — a dry, ambery smoothness recalling sun-warmed straw or sweetened moss. In a modern interpretation, one might imagine accords of vetiver, coumarin (from tonka bean), and labdanum creating that effect — but in 1848, Guerlain would have achieved it with natural essences, perhaps tinctured grasses and balsams that softened over time into a gentle, nostalgic warmth.

Among its contemporaries, Lolium Agriphyllum would have stood apart for its pastoral restraint. At a time when most perfumes sought to imitate gardens in bloom, this one seems to have captured the quieter poetry of the meadow — the scent of open air, dry grass, and faint sweetness carried on the breeze. It was an intellectual’s floral, a perfume for women who valued subtlety, complexity, and the quiet sophistication of nature distilled into art. In essence, Lolium Agriphyllum was Guerlain’s way of translating the soul of the countryside into the refined language of perfumery — a whisper of the wild, made civilized.

Jardin d’Hiver Collection:

Guerlain’s Jardin d’Hiver Collection, launched in 1848, represents a remarkable celebration of botanical singularity and refined artistry. Each fragrance within the collection is devoted to a single floral or plant note, captured with painstaking care to highlight its unique character and essence. The collection’s Latin-styled names—Tilia microphylla, Lathyrus odorans, Mimosa fragrans, Cyperus ruber, and the most recent addition (1853), Mimosa Esterhazya—lend an air of classical sophistication, evoking the scholarly prestige and aristocratic refinement associated with the study of plants and natural sciences. These names, both precise and exotic, signal the high level of craft and attention devoted to each fragrance, appealing to a clientele who valued knowledge, taste, and exclusivity.

At the 1851 Universal Exposition, these perfumes competed not merely as products of luxury, but as demonstrations of technical mastery and artistic innovation. Each extrait is a distillation of a single botanical note, conveying the essence of the plant in a way that is at once vivid, nuanced, and enduring. Tilia microphylla, for instance, would have unfolded with the delicate, honeyed softness of its linden blossoms, while Mimosa fragrans exudes a sunlit, powdery warmth, evocative of early spring mornings. Cyperus ruber, with its earthy, subtly green facets, contrasts with the intensely floral sweetness of Lathyrus odorans, creating a spectrum of olfactory experiences within a unified concept.

The collection was designed for the highest echelons of society, intended for women who were not merely consumers of fragrance but arbiters of taste and refinement. These perfumes were not relegated to the dressing table as casual adornments; they were worn as statements of identity and prestige, perfuming the air with subtlety and elegance. In essence, the Jardin d’Hiver Collection embodies the aristocratic ethos of mid-19th century Paris—a union of botanical scholarship, artistic sophistication, and the cultivated elegance expected of the queens of fashion and fortune. Each fragrance is an intimate portrait of a singular flower, captured with the utmost care, and presented as a jewel of olfactory refinement.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like?  Lolium Agriphyllum, as imagined from its botanical inspirations, would not smell like the intense or “green-leafy” amaranth flowers themselves in a dominant way; rather, it would suggest a delicate, nuanced green and herbal character. The perfume evokes meadows, freshly cut grasses, ryegrass, and wild herbs, with subtle floral undertones drawn from companion blossoms in the field. The Amaranthaceae element (Agriophyllum) would lend a soft, slightly nutty, earthy aroma — a faint, almost honeyed warmth that blends seamlessly with the bright green notes.

The overall impression would be green, crisp, and slightly sweet, with hints of soft florals — perhaps clover, meadow flowers, and dry hay. There would be earthy, slightly balsamic undertones, reminiscent of sun-warmed straw or aromatic resins, giving depth to the fresh top notes. Think of walking through a dewy summer meadow, where the grasses release a clean, green scent, mingled with fleeting floral hints and a gentle warmth from the earth beneath.

So yes, amaranths contribute to the earthy, slightly honeyed nuance, but the fragrance as a whole is more of a green, grassy bouquet with subtle floral and herbal complexity — evocative of cultivated fields rather than a singular floral explosion.

Bottle:

Presented in the carre flacon.

Petit courrier des dames: Journal des modes, 1848:

"By creating the Château des Fleurs, inventing the Jardin d’Hiver, and making flowers fashionable in all the salons of Paris, the trend of perfumery simultaneously returned—after having been somewhat neglected due to the overuse of amber, musk, and vetiver. Yet the perfumes that reappear today bear no resemblance to those bourgeois emanations of old-fashioned coquetry. At Guerlain, 11 Rue de la Paix, however, belongs the right to this thoroughly modern renewal, offering compositions more delicate, more suave, more gentle on the nerves, and more voluptuous to the sense of smell than any other.

Ladies of good society are recognized by these perfumes, just as the high lineage of noble families is recognized by their coats of arms; and when a lock of hair flutters near you, when a magnificent handkerchief falls beside you, or when a fresh, coquettish glove happens to brush near your lips, you can judge by the fragrance emanating from that hair, that handkerchief, or those gloves whether the woman to whom they belong has received at Guerlain the mark of good taste, fashion, and refinement.

New odors composed by Guerlain:

• Extrait de Lolium agriphyllum 
• Extrait de Phlomis asplenia, 
• Extrait d'Azalea melaleuca
• Extrait de Cyparisse Elaidon
• Extrait d'Hyemalis anthelia
• Extrait de Cytise sylvaria 
• Extrait d'Anthemia nobilis 
• Extrait de Cyperus ruber  
• Extrait de Tilia micropluilla
• Extrait d'Hymenaea nitida 
• Extrait de Mimosa fragrans
• Extrait de Caryophilus album 
• Extrait d'Amyris Polyolens 
• Extrait de Polyanthe suaveolens  
• Extrait de Lathyrus odorans  
• Extrait d'Ocymum dulce 

By bringing to light these entirely new perfumes, Guerlain points out that they can only be found at home, and recommends to be on guard against the imitations that one will try to make."

Anthaemia Nobilis 1848

Anthaemia Nobilis by Guerlain, launched in 1848 as part of the Jardin d’Hiver Collection, exemplifies the mid-19th-century fascination with botanical purity and classical elegance. The name itself—Anthaemia Nobilis—draws from Latin, as was customary in the era for perfumes that sought to convey refinement and erudition. “Anthaemia” refers to the flowering plant, while “Nobilis” translates to “noble,” evoking dignity and elevated taste. Pronounced as "An-THAY-mee-ah No-BEE-lis", the title conjures images of sunlit Roman gardens, soft white and golden blooms, and a genteel serenity that permeated aristocratic salons. It evokes a sense of calm sophistication, echoing the soothing and delicate qualities of Roman chamomile itself.

The perfume’s star ingredient, Anthaemia nobilis or Roman chamomile, was prized for its gentle, subtly sweet floral aroma, often associated with comfort and quiet luxury. The essential oil, typically steam-distilled from the flowers, carries notes of apple-like freshness, soft herbaceous warmth, and a hint of honeyed sweetness, which combine to create a calming, almost balsamic character. In a period when perfumery was heavily influenced by opulent, animalic notes like musk, amber, and vetiver, the choice to foreground Roman chamomile signaled Guerlain’s dedication to nuanced and refined compositions, offering an alternative that was both delicate and sophisticated.

Women in 1848 would have related to Anthaemia Nobilis as a perfume of grace and modern taste. Its gentle aroma would have complemented the light silks and laces of the period, while its classical name and exotic botanical origin suggested cultural knowledge and elegance. Within the context of other fragrances on the market, Anthaemia Nobilis was both in line with trends favoring floral purity and subtly innovative in its use of a botanical often overlooked in perfumery. Its soft, soothing profile marked it as a distinctive choice for a refined woman, one seeking to assert sophistication without resorting to overpowering scents. Guerlain’s creation captured the essence of understated aristocratic luxury, demonstrating the maison’s mastery of botanical individuality and the art of subtle elegance.

Jardin d’Hiver Collection:

Guerlain’s Jardin d’Hiver Collection, launched in 1848, represents a remarkable celebration of botanical singularity and refined artistry. Each fragrance within the collection is devoted to a single floral or plant note, captured with painstaking care to highlight its unique character and essence. The collection’s Latin-styled names—Tilia microphylla, Lathyrus odorans, Mimosa fragrans, Cyperus ruber, and the most recent addition (1853), Mimosa Esterhazya—lend an air of classical sophistication, evoking the scholarly prestige and aristocratic refinement associated with the study of plants and natural sciences. These names, both precise and exotic, signal the high level of craft and attention devoted to each fragrance, appealing to a clientele who valued knowledge, taste, and exclusivity.

At the 1851 Universal Exposition, these perfumes competed not merely as products of luxury, but as demonstrations of technical mastery and artistic innovation. Each extrait is a distillation of a single botanical note, conveying the essence of the plant in a way that is at once vivid, nuanced, and enduring. Tilia microphylla, for instance, would have unfolded with the delicate, honeyed softness of its linden blossoms, while Mimosa fragrans exudes a sunlit, powdery warmth, evocative of early spring mornings. Cyperus ruber, with its earthy, subtly green facets, contrasts with the intensely floral sweetness of Lathyrus odorans, creating a spectrum of olfactory experiences within a unified concept.

The collection was designed for the highest echelons of society, intended for women who were not merely consumers of fragrance but arbiters of taste and refinement. These perfumes were not relegated to the dressing table as casual adornments; they were worn as statements of identity and prestige, perfuming the air with subtlety and elegance. In essence, the Jardin d’Hiver Collection embodies the aristocratic ethos of mid-19th century Paris—a union of botanical scholarship, artistic sophistication, and the cultivated elegance expected of the queens of fashion and fortune. Each fragrance is an intimate portrait of a singular flower, captured with the utmost care, and presented as a jewel of olfactory refinement.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? The perfume’s star ingredient, Anthaemia nobilis or Roman chamomile, was prized for its gentle, subtly sweet floral aroma, often associated with comfort and quiet luxury. The essential oil, typically steam-distilled from the flowers, carries notes of apple-like freshness, soft herbaceous warmth, and a hint of honeyed sweetness, which combine to create a calming, almost balsamic character. 

• Top notes:
• Middle notes:
• Base notes:

Bottle:

Presented in the carre flacon.

Petit courrier des dames: Journal des modes, 1848:

"By creating the Château des Fleurs, inventing the Jardin d’Hiver, and making flowers fashionable in all the salons of Paris, the trend of perfumery simultaneously returned—after having been somewhat neglected due to the overuse of amber, musk, and vetiver. Yet the perfumes that reappear today bear no resemblance to those bourgeois emanations of old-fashioned coquetry. At Guerlain, 11 Rue de la Paix, however, belongs the right to this thoroughly modern renewal, offering compositions more delicate, more suave, more gentle on the nerves, and more voluptuous to the sense of smell than any other.

Ladies of good society are recognized by these perfumes, just as the high lineage of noble families is recognized by their coats of arms; and when a lock of hair flutters near you, when a magnificent handkerchief falls beside you, or when a fresh, coquettish glove happens to brush near your lips, you can judge by the fragrance emanating from that hair, that handkerchief, or those gloves whether the woman to whom they belong has received at Guerlain the mark of good taste, fashion, and refinement.

New odors composed by Guerlain:

• Extrait de Lolium agriphyllum 
• Extrait de Phlomis asplenia, 
• Extrait d'Azalea melaleuca
• Extrait de Cyparisse Elaidon
• Extrait d'Hyemalis anthelia
• Extrait de Cytise sylvaria 
• Extrait d'Anthemia nobilis 
• Extrait de Cyperus ruber  
• Extrait de Tilia micropluilla
• Extrait d'Hymenaea nitida 
• Extrait de Mimosa fragrans
• Extrait de Caryophilus album 
• Extrait d'Amyris Polyolens 
• Extrait de Polyanthe suaveolens  
• Extrait de Lathyrus odorans  
• Extrait d'Ocymum dulce 

By bringing to light these entirely new perfumes, Guerlain points out that they can only be found at home, and recommends to be on guard against the imitations that one will try to make."

Shalimar - Special Edition in Leather Case 1984

In 1984, Guerlain unveiled a luxurious and highly collectible presentation of Shalimar Parfum, a masterpiece of refinement that elevated the iconic fragrance to an object of art. The perfume was housed in a 30 ml Baccarat crystal flacon, whose clarity and weight conveyed the timeless quality of Guerlain’s craftsmanship. Each flacon was nestled within a white suede-covered presentation box, the surface soft and opulent to the touch—an embodiment of tactile luxury that complemented the sensual nature of the scent itself.

The box design featured the distinctive gilded metal lattice motif first introduced on Guerlain’s Habit de Fête refillable cases from 1982 to 1990, a hallmark pattern that symbolized the house’s devotion to elegance and continuity. For this edition, the lattice was further enhanced with accents of turquoise blue, a hue that lent the piece a serene yet regal sophistication. The combination of gold and turquoise—colors often associated with opulence, purity, and Eastern splendor—echoed Shalimar’s storied origins as a fragrance inspired by the romance and luxury of the Orient.

This special edition was strictly limited to 2,000 examples, making it an exceptionally rare find among collectors today. Every detail, from the crystalline clarity of the Baccarat bottle to the tactile elegance of the white suede and the jewel-like embellishments of the box, spoke to Guerlain’s commitment to artistry and its reverence for heritage. The 1984 Shalimar Parfum presentation captured not only the essence of the perfume itself—exotic, sensual, and eternal—but also the grandeur of Guerlain’s vision of beauty and refinement.

Ocymum Dulce 1848

Ocymum Dulce by Guerlain, launched in 1848 as part of the Jardin d’Hiver Collection, reflected the house’s fascination with nature’s aromatic diversity and classical botany. The name itself, Ocymum Dulce—derived from Latin—translates to “sweet basil,” pronounced as "Oh-see-mum Dool-chay". The use of Latin, rather than French, gave the perfume an aura of scientific sophistication and timeless elegance, echoing the 19th century’s obsession with cataloguing the natural world. To the fashionable women of mid-19th-century Paris, a name like Ocymum Dulce would have conjured visions of a conservatory filled with potted herbs and exotic plants—sunlight streaming through glass, the air rich with aromatic greenness and faint floral warmth.

In choosing this name, Guerlain celebrated not only the beauty of nature but also the refinement of intellect and taste. The word Ocymum comes from the Greek okimon, meaning basil, a plant long revered for its aromatic leaves and spiritual symbolism. Dulce, meaning “sweet,” described its softer, more honeyed and clove-like nuances, distinct from the sharper, camphorous notes of common basil. The combination of these words evoked a sense of purity and quiet vitality—an herb garden distilled into perfume form. To 19th-century sensibilities, it suggested both the elegance of nature tamed for polite society and the exotic allure of distant, sun-drenched lands where such plants thrived.

The perfume debuted at a time of great cultural and industrial transformation. France in 1848 was marked by political upheaval—the end of the July Monarchy and the birth of the Second Republic—but amid the turbulence, a romantic ideal of beauty and nature persisted in art, fashion, and fragrance. The Jardin d’Hiver Collection embodied this aesthetic: delicate, intellectual, and naturalistic. Fashion emphasized lightness and refinement—women wore gowns in soft pastels and floral prints, and interiors were decorated with botanical motifs and greenhouse-inspired glass domes. Perfumes, in turn, began moving away from the heavy animalic and amber bases of earlier decades toward fresher compositions that captured the scent of living plants and flowers.

Ocymum Dulce would have appealed to the cultivated woman of this period—one who appreciated both the poetry and science of scent. She would recognize the perfume not as a simple herbal accord, but as a symbol of modern refinement: clean, verdant, and subtly sensual. Interpreted in scent, Ocymum Dulce would have combined the crisp greenness of basil leaf with its spicy, anise-like undertones, softened by perhaps a touch of floral sweetness and a warm, musky base to lend body and sophistication. It would smell like the meeting point of a sun-warmed garden and a Parisian salon—alive, elegant, and quietly luxurious.

In the context of other fragrances of its time, Ocymum Dulce stood apart. While most perfumes in the 1840s favored floral bouquets or rich balsamic blends, this fragrance ventured into greener, more aromatic territory. Guerlain’s choice to highlight an herb rather than a blossom was both daring and modern, aligning with the intellectual fascination of the age and foreshadowing the aromatic, unisex compositions that would not become fashionable until many decades later.

Jardin d’Hiver Collection:

Guerlain’s Jardin d’Hiver Collection, launched in 1848, represents a remarkable celebration of botanical singularity and refined artistry. Each fragrance within the collection is devoted to a single floral or plant note, captured with painstaking care to highlight its unique character and essence. The collection’s Latin-styled names—Tilia microphylla, Lathyrus odorans, Mimosa fragrans, Cyperus ruber, and the most recent addition (1853), Mimosa Esterhazya—lend an air of classical sophistication, evoking the scholarly prestige and aristocratic refinement associated with the study of plants and natural sciences. These names, both precise and exotic, signal the high level of craft and attention devoted to each fragrance, appealing to a clientele who valued knowledge, taste, and exclusivity.

At the 1851 Universal Exposition, these perfumes competed not merely as products of luxury, but as demonstrations of technical mastery and artistic innovation. Each extrait is a distillation of a single botanical note, conveying the essence of the plant in a way that is at once vivid, nuanced, and enduring. Tilia microphylla, for instance, would have unfolded with the delicate, honeyed softness of its linden blossoms, while Mimosa fragrans exudes a sunlit, powdery warmth, evocative of early spring mornings. Cyperus ruber, with its earthy, subtly green facets, contrasts with the intensely floral sweetness of Lathyrus odorans, creating a spectrum of olfactory experiences within a unified concept.

The collection was designed for the highest echelons of society, intended for women who were not merely consumers of fragrance but arbiters of taste and refinement. These perfumes were not relegated to the dressing table as casual adornments; they were worn as statements of identity and prestige, perfuming the air with subtlety and elegance. In essence, the Jardin d’Hiver Collection embodies the aristocratic ethos of mid-19th century Paris—a union of botanical scholarship, artistic sophistication, and the cultivated elegance expected of the queens of fashion and fortune. Each fragrance is an intimate portrait of a singular flower, captured with the utmost care, and presented as a jewel of olfactory refinement.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? It is classified as a floral oriental fragrance.

• Top notes: bergamot, citron, orange, cassie, basil
• Middle notes: verbena, geranium, rose, jasmine, tuberose
• Base notes: rose, musk, storax, tonka bean, vanilla

Scent Profile:

Imagine lifting the stopper of this Guerlain floral oriental and inhaling the first airy burst of bergamot, citron, and orange. The citrus feels like sunlight spilling across a Mediterranean terrace—bright, sparkling, and slightly green. Bergamot from Calabria, Italy, is prized for its balance of bitter and sweet nuances, offering a lightly spicy undertone alongside a luminous zest. Citron adds a subtly tart and resinous brightness, while the orange contributes a juicy, sunny sweetness. Layered alongside these fruits is cassie, the delicate, powdery aroma of mimosa, giving the opening a soft floral veil that tempers the sharpness of citrus. The inclusion of basil, likely from Provence, introduces a subtle herbaceous warmth, with aromatic eugenol and linalool compounds that lend a lightly spicy and green nuance, grounding the bright top notes and making them intriguingly complex.

As the perfume unfolds, the heart emerges, a rich bouquet of verbena, geranium, rose, jasmine, and tuberose. The verbena feels like crushed leaves releasing a bright, tangy, and slightly floral green scent, enhancing the citrus top notes while providing a fresh verdant signature. Geranium adds a rosy-tinged complexity, often richer and greener than the pure rose, with small hints of minty freshness, a result of its naturally occurring citronellol and geraniol. The rose here, reminiscent of Damask petals, is plush and opulent, a luxurious floral anchor softened by jasmine, whose indolic compounds provide sensual creaminess and luminous depth. Tuberose, full-bodied and creamy, wraps the bouquet in a rich, almost narcotic softness, its naturally occurring lactones contributing a slightly animalic sweetness that is sensual yet refined. This floral heart is where the perfume’s oriental character quietly begins to emerge.

Finally, the base settles in—a warm, enveloping harmony of rose, musk, storax, tonka bean, and vanilla. The repeating rose in the base emphasizes the continuity and elegance of the bouquet, its scent now deeper and almost velvety. Musk adds a clean, animalic softness that enhances the wearer's skin-like warmth. Storax, a resin from the Liquidambar tree, brings balsamic sweetness and a subtle smoky undertone, bridging the florals with the gourmand warmth of tonka bean, which exudes almond-like, slightly vanilla nuances thanks to its natural coumarin content. Vanilla, possibly sourced from Madagascar, rounds the composition with creamy, comforting sweetness, harmonizing the citrus freshness and floral opulence into a sensual, lingering trail. Together, these ingredients create a floral oriental that is simultaneously bright, intricate, and warmly enveloping—a perfume that moves gracefully from sunlit citrus to an elegant floral heart, finally resting in a soft, resinous, and subtly sweet base.

This fragrance exemplifies how Guerlain masterfully balances freshness, floral complexity, and oriental warmth, creating a sophisticated olfactory journey that is both immediately appealing and enduringly elegant.

Bottle:

Presented in the carre flacon.

Petit courrier des dames: Journal des modes, 1848:

"By creating the Château des Fleurs, inventing the Jardin d’Hiver, and making flowers fashionable in all the salons of Paris, the trend of perfumery simultaneously returned—after having been somewhat neglected due to the overuse of amber, musk, and vetiver. Yet the perfumes that reappear today bear no resemblance to those bourgeois emanations of old-fashioned coquetry. At Guerlain, 11 Rue de la Paix, however, belongs the right to this thoroughly modern renewal, offering compositions more delicate, more suave, more gentle on the nerves, and more voluptuous to the sense of smell than any other.

Ladies of good society are recognized by these perfumes, just as the high lineage of noble families is recognized by their coats of arms; and when a lock of hair flutters near you, when a magnificent handkerchief falls beside you, or when a fresh, coquettish glove happens to brush near your lips, you can judge by the fragrance emanating from that hair, that handkerchief, or those gloves whether the woman to whom they belong has received at Guerlain the mark of good taste, fashion, and refinement.

New odors composed by Guerlain:

• Extrait de Lolium agriphyllum 
• Extrait de Phlomis asplenia, 
• Extrait d'Azalea melaleuca
• Extrait de Cyparisse Elaidon
• Extrait d'Hyemalis anthelia
• Extrait de Cytise sylvaria 
• Extrait d'Anthemia nobilis 
• Extrait de Cyperus ruber  
• Extrait de Tilia micropluilla
• Extrait d'Hymenaea nitida 
• Extrait de Mimosa fragrans
• Extrait de Caryophilus album 
• Extrait d'Amyris Polyolens 
• Extrait de Polyanthe suaveolens  
• Extrait de Lathyrus odorans  
• Extrait d'Ocymum dulce 

By bringing to light these entirely new perfumes, Guerlain points out that they can only be found at home, and recommends to be on guard against the imitations that one will try to make."