Flacon Abeilles (Bees) - c1828 - Present

The iconic Flacon Abeilles, or “Bee Bottle,” was originally designed for Guerlain’s Eau de Cologne Impériale, created in 1853 for Empress Eugénie, the wife of Napoleon III. Produced by the distinguished glassmaker Pochet et du Courval, the bottle was instantly recognizable for its exquisite decoration: a field of raised bees, the emblem of the Napoleonic dynasty. The bee, symbolizing immortality and resurrection, had long been associated with power and sovereignty in France, and its adoption for the Empress’s personal fragrance gave the design both political and poetic resonance. Over time, this imagery was so closely tied to Guerlain that the bee became the house’s enduring emblem, still in use today.

The Flacon Abeilles was primarily used to hold eaux de cologne and eaux de toilette, emphasizing freshness, lightness, and daily luxury. Beyond its historic symbolism, the bottle carried with it a sense of personalization and exclusivity. Clients could commission their own monogram to be engraved on the glass, transforming the flacon into a bespoke possession. For those desiring an even greater touch of luxury, the bees themselves could be highlighted in gilded enamel, turning the bottle into a dazzling jewel-like object, suitable for display on a lady’s dressing table.

Elegant, historic, and infinitely adaptable, the Flacon Abeilles quickly transcended its original function. What began as a bespoke gift for an empress evolved into one of the most recognizable icons of French perfumery, embodying Guerlain’s artistry and deep connection to heritage. It remains not only a vessel for fragrance but also a lasting symbol of refinement and continuity within the house’s history.

• 125cc/125 ml/4.23 oz - 14 cm/5.15" (1947), ground ball stopper, then changed to plastic in 1982
• 250cc/250 ml/8.4 oz - 16 cm/6.3" (1947), ground ball stopper, then changed to plastic in 1982
• 500cc/500 ml/16.9 oz - 20 cm/7.87" (1947), ground ball stopper, then changed to plastic in 1982
• 1 liter/1000 ml - 23,5 cm/4.3"-9.25" (1853), truncated ground stopper, then changed to ball shape in 1947
• 2 liter/2000 ml - 31cm/8.27"-12.2" (1920), truncated ground stopper, then changed to ball shape in 1947
• In 1962, a cobalt prototype or limited edition was released, only for that year.

Since the 1990s, Guerlain has modernized the Flacon Abeilles to suit contemporary tastes and practical needs, adapting the historic design to accommodate spray mechanisms. While the silhouette and signature raised bees remain somewhat faithful to the 1853 original, the interior structure of the bottle was discreetly reworked so that it could be fitted with atomizers, allowing for a more convenient and controlled application of perfume. This evolution ensured that the Flacon Abeilles could continue to serve as both a symbol of Guerlain’s heritage and a functional object for modern consumers. The modification preserved the elegance and prestige of the design, while making it compatible with the way fragrance is most often worn today. In this way, Guerlain successfully bridged tradition and innovation, keeping an icon of 19th-century perfumery relevant well into the 21st century.

Aide Memoire

Below is a paragraph-by-paragraph English translation and interpretive description of the poetic promotional text titled "AIDE MÉMOIRE"—a lyrical, dreamlike ode to Guerlain perfumes from the Revue des Deux Mondes, issue of December 15, 1923, likely published as part of a holiday campaign. All perfume names are preserved in their original French, with English translations provided in parentheses.

Translation and Interpretation:

"Feet resting on the andirons and cozily nestled near the hearth, I dozed off the other evening and began to dream: It was "Après l’Ondée" (After the Rain Shower), with the soothing freshness of "Mi Mai" (Mid-May). I had sat down in the "Jardin de Mon Curé" (My Parish Priest’s Garden), on an old stone bench, and near a fountain aged and moss-covered, there frolicked (why had it come here?) an entire "Bouquet du Faunes" (Bouquet of the Fauns)." 

This opening sets a poetic scene: the narrator is daydreaming by the fire and transported into a romantic, fragrant reverie shaped entirely by Guerlain perfume names. Each scent evokes a place, a feeling, or a sensory moment. “Après l’Ondée” suggests the damp, floral calm after rainfall ripe with petrichor, while “Mi Mai” places the dream in springtime. The “Jardin de Mon Curé” invokes rustic innocence, and “Bouquet du Faunes” adds a mythical, mischievous touch—a nod to Guerlain’s more whimsical or nature-inspired blends.

"In the distance, on an old harpsichord, someone was playing an old-fashioned tune—a "Gavotte" from "Bon Vieux Temps" (The Good Old Times). It was "L’Heure Bleue" (The Blue Hour), that exquisite moment when, "Quand vient l’Été" (When Summer Comes), one likes to dream a little—an hour made "Pour Troubler" (To Disturb) the heart."

This paragraph is rich in nostalgia. “L’Heure Bleue,” one of Guerlain’s most famous perfumes, symbolizes twilight’s melancholic beauty. A gentle harpsichord plays the “gavotte,” a medium-paced French dance, popular in the 18th century, further enveloping the scene in an old-world charm. “Quand vient l’Été” and “Pour Troubler” conjure romantic yearning, suggesting the way scents stir memory and emotion at dusk.

"Surrounded by "Pois de Senteur" (Sweet Peas), "Verveine" (Verbena), and "Jasmin de Siam" (Jasmine of Siam), "Une Rose" (A Rose) bloomed at my side, and the perfume of a "Fleur Qui Meurt" (Dying Flower) floated toward me like an enchanting "Sillage" (Scent Trail)."

This passage bathes the reader in a lush, floral landscape. Guerlain perfumes personify the garden: sweet peas and jasmine add heady brightness, while “Fleur Qui Meurt” adds a note of decay—perhaps a dying beauty, underscoring how even faded fragrances have a haunting elegance. The term “sillage” is particularly poignant here, as it refers to the lingering scent trail left by perfume.

"Then, like a "Vague Souvenir" (Vague Memory), my thoughts turned to the Paris I love. My dream wandered from the "Champs-Élysées" to the "Rue de la Paix"—the very heart of the capital. It was the hour for rendezvous: "Voilette de Madame" (Madame’s Veil) lowered, and "Mouchoir de Monsieur" (Monsieur’s Handkerchief) fluttered in farewell."

This paragraph turns nostalgic, invoking Paris as a setting for fleeting romantic encounters. The Champs-Élysées and Rue de la Paix, home to Guerlain’s iconic boutiques, root the story in reality. Scents like “Voilette de Madame” and “Mouchoir de Monsieur” evoke accessories of romantic courtship and longing, suggesting that perfume is as much a part of ritual as gloves and lace.

"Kadine"—for it was she—carried a bouquet of "Violette à Deux Sous" (Two-Sou Violets) under her arm. Her charming little Pekingese, "Mitsouko," was with her. And then my dream drifted to you. I said to myself: “There! I loved Rosine for her sweet innocence.”

This portion introduces characters: “Kadine” (referencing Guerlain’s Orientalist fragrance from 1911) and her pet Pekingese dog named “Mitsouko,” another iconic scent, named after the heroine of a novel. She carries “Violette à Deux Sous,” suggesting simple, affordable charm. “Rosine” references another woman from the dream. The blending of perfumed figures with emotion underscores perfume's role in memory.

"And all around me the flowers stirred in the wind that carries away April in bloom and brings back the "Vere Novo" (New Spring) of nature. All of them, swaying, whispered to one another about nothings—trifles, murmured nothings. It was truly a ballad—or rather, a "Guerlinade!"

 

Here, nature, fragrance, and time merge. “Vere Novo,” Latin for spring’s rebirth, invokes timeless natural cycles. The phrase “Guerlinade,” originally used to describe the signature olfactory base common to many Guerlain fragrances, becomes a poetic summation of this fragrant dream—a “Guerlain ballad,” a life expressed in scent.

"My awakening was soft and very pleasant—soft, because at the piano my wife was playing Werther’s Clair de Lune; pleasant, because it gave me a flash of inspiration: this year, for Christmas and New Year’s gifts, I will offer Perfumes! More Perfumes! That is what pleases women."

 

The dream ends with a return to the real world, where the narrator’s wife plays Werther's “Clair de Lune,” adding a gentle, sentimental flourish. The dream becomes a moment of epiphany—perfume is the ideal gift. Emotional, evocative, luxurious, and intimate, it is what “pleases women”—a notion rooted in both marketing strategy and social custom.

This aide-mémoire is both a poetic fantasy and a clever piece of Guerlain advertising. It artfully blends romanticism, seasonal imagery, and Parisian sophistication to weave a narrative that showcases the brand’s perfumes not just as products, but as experiences—each with a story, personality, and emotion. The inclusion of more than 30 scent names shows the richness of Guerlain’s catalog during this period, and positions perfume as a poetic language of memory, identity, and desire.

Guerlain Fonds de Cuves 2000

The ancestral tradition of the “fonds de cuves” is one of Guerlain’s most charming and storied practices, a secret ritual that bridges the line between craftsmanship, sustainability, and serendipity. For centuries, this method has allowed perfumers to use every last trace of the precious essences employed in the House’s creations—a form of early upcycling long before the term entered modern vocabulary.

After each maceration—the process in which aromatic materials are steeped in alcohol to extract and blend their scent—Guerlain’s vats would retain a subtle but unmistakable olfactory imprint of the fragrances they once held. Rather than discard this perfumed residue, the vats were carefully rinsed with pure alcohol, creating a richly fragrant liquid known as the “fond de cuve.” Each batch was unique, an accidental harmony born from the mingling of Guerlain’s masterpieces—Shalimar, Mitsouko, Jicky, Vol de Nuit, and countless others. The resulting elixir carried whispers of these perfumes, a ghostly collage of their essences, at once familiar and entirely new.

Traditionally, these fonds de cuves were never bottled for sale. They were instead a perquisite for the factory workers, a humble but treasured gift that allowed those who helped craft Guerlain’s perfumes to wear the mysterious remnants of the House’s most beautiful creations. Each rinse was unrepeatable—a fleeting blend capturing the spirit of Guerlain’s olfactory heritage.

In January 2000, this time-honored practice inspired two special creations, reserved exclusively for employees: Mahora à la Cologne Linen Water and Majora à la Verveine Linen Water, each presented in cylindrical 490 ml bottles. These limited products continued the fonds de cuves tradition in spirit, offering a refreshing and intimate way to perfume fabrics and linens.

Mahora à la Cologne carried the tropical warmth and creamy sensuality of the 2000 perfume Mahora, softened into a delicate cologne form, while Majora à la Verveine evoked the crisp, green brightness of verbena, radiant and uplifting. Though these bottles were never intended for public release, they stand as poetic reminders of Guerlain’s deep reverence for its materials—a house where nothing beautiful is ever wasted, and even the last fragrant drops become part of its living history.

In the context of perfumery, “fond de cuve” refers to the fragrant residue or remaining liquid left at the bottom of a vat after the perfume has been macerated and removed. When rinsed with alcohol, this residue produces a lightly scented solution — a fond de cuve — carrying traces of the essences previously contained in the tank.

So in poetic terms, “fond de cuve” can be thought of as the last, fragrant whisper of a perfume, a subtle echo of everything that once passed through the perfumer’s hands.

Santal c1872

The name Santal comes directly from the French word for sandalwood, pronounced sahn-tahl. Simple, elegant, and evocative, it captures in a single word the essence of warmth, serenity, and exoticism that sandalwood represented to 19th-century Europe. The word itself originates from the Sanskrit candana, meaning “fragrant wood,” which traveled through the languages of trade and empire — Persian, Arabic, and eventually French — carrying with it associations of faraway lands, sacred rituals, and sensual luxury. To the ear, Santal sounds smooth and rounded, much like the scent it names: soft yet resonant, calm yet enveloping.

When Guerlain launched Santal around 1872 — though it may have existed even earlier — the world was entering the Belle Époque, a time of cultural refinement, artistic innovation, and growing fascination with the East. The French upper classes were captivated by l’Orientalisme, a romanticized vision of India, China, and Arabia, which influenced everything from architecture to fashion and perfumery. The word “Santal” would have conjured images of carved wooden boxes from Mysore, faintly perfumed prayer beads, and the polished interiors of exotic temples. For the elegant women and men of the period, a perfume named Santal suggested sophistication, worldliness, and spiritual calm — an olfactory escape into a dream of distant lands.

The heart of Santal lies in sandalwood, one of the most precious materials in perfumery. During the 19th century, the most sought-after variety was Mysore sandalwood (Santalum album) from the southern region of India. This species was famed for its creamy, velvety scent and its remarkable fixative power — a natural ability to anchor other volatile ingredients, extending their longevity. The wood was distilled slowly in copper stills through steam distillation, a laborious process that could take days. The resulting essential oil, rich in alpha- and beta-santalols, exuded a warm, milky aroma with undertones of spice, rose, and balsamic sweetness. No other wood smelled quite like it: Australian sandalwood was drier and more austere; Hawaiian sandalwood more resinous and sharp. Mysore’s balance of softness and depth made it the unrivaled choice for fine perfumery.

 

To smell natural sandalwood is to experience something almost tactile — like breathing in the scent of polished wood that radiates quiet warmth from within. It is subtle, not showy, with a spiritual calmness that evokes sacred spaces and human intimacy at once. This quality made it a cornerstone of perfumery in the 19th century, when “woody” fragrances symbolized refinement and moral composure. Guerlain’s Santal would have elevated this precious material by surrounding it with delicate florals and chypre nuances, creating harmony between nature’s serenity and human artistry.

At the time of its creation, Santal reflected both tradition and innovation. Many 19th-century perfumers offered their own interpretations of sandalwood — Santal de Mysore, Santal Indien, Santal Blanc — often blending it with rose, violet, amber, or musk. Guerlain’s version, however, stood apart for its refinement. Early formulas were entirely natural, relying on tinctures, infusions, and macerations to capture scent. But by the 1870s, perfumery was on the cusp of transformation: the first synthetic aroma molecules, such as vanillin and coumarin, were beginning to appear, revolutionizing the art. Guerlain, always attuned to modernity, may have incorporated these innovations to enrich the natural materials — using synthetics not as replacements, but as enhancers, to magnify the sensual facets of the wood and extend its longevity on skin.

To a woman of the late 19th century, Santal would have felt both exotic and comforting. In an age of corsets and crinoline, this fragrance would whisper of freedom and quiet confidence — a scent less about adornment than about presence. It was warm, human, and grounding, a contrast to the bright floral waters popular earlier in the century. For men, Santal offered refinement without aggression — the fragrance of intellect and restraint.

In scent, the word Santal translates to soft, luminous warmth — a perfume that wraps the wearer in a golden veil of polished wood and subtle spice. It evokes meditation, intimacy, and timeless grace. In the landscape of 19th-century perfumery, Guerlain’s Santal was both of its time and ahead of it — a fragrance rooted in classical materials yet forward-looking in its sophistication. Its enduring beauty lies in its simplicity: the ability to take one of nature’s most serene aromas and transform it into an emblem of pure, quiet luxury.

Fragrance Composition:

 

So what does it smell like? Classified as a floral chypre fragrance for men and women, Santal highlighted the warm, creamy character of sandalwood balanced with floral nuances, reflecting the elegance and refinement typical of Guerlain’s creations during the late 19th century.

• Top notes: bergamot, orange, neroli bigarade, lemon balm, cassie, phenylethyl alcohol
• Middle notes: geranium, Bulgarian rose, tuberose, jasmine, orris, violet, Iraldeine
• Base notes: patchouli, Mysore sandalwood, coumarin, cedar, civet, musk, musk ketone, vanillin, benzoin, tolu balsam, Peru balsam, styrax

Scent Profile:

From the first moment Santal unfolds, the air is brightened by a delicate interplay of citrus and green light — an introduction both refined and quietly exuberant. Bergamot opens the composition with its sparkling, floral-green brightness, rich in linalool and limonene, lending effervescence and balance. This bergamot, likely sourced from Calabria, Italy, would have carried a luminous freshness impossible to replicate elsewhere — fruitier and more rounded than the sharper citrus oils of Spain or North Africa. Alongside it, orange contributes a soft, honeyed sweetness, while neroli bigarade, distilled from the blossoms of the bitter orange tree, introduces a creamy, floral-green facet, enriched with nerolidol and linalyl acetate — aroma compounds that bring a silky, radiant texture. Lemon balm adds a gentle, herbal freshness — like crushed green leaves still warm from the sun — and cassie (from Acacia farnesiana) infuses a powdery, balsamic undertone with almondy warmth.

Here, the natural floralcy of phenylethyl alcohol — a rose-derived molecule with dewy, honeyed nuances — seamlessly bridges the transition between the citrus top and the heart of the perfume. Its inclusion illustrates Guerlain’s early understanding of synthetic harmonization: the way a carefully chosen molecule could act not as imitation, but as elevation — magnifying the delicacy of the natural rose and connecting the perfume’s upper and middle registers with poise and continuity.

As the perfume settles, the floral heart of Santal reveals itself — plush, layered, and deeply romantic. Geranium opens this section with its green, minty-rosy freshness, balancing the dense florals that follow. Bulgarian rose, the most prized of its kind, brings a lush sweetness tinged with spice, rich in citronellol and geraniol that evoke dew on velvet petals. The intoxicating tuberose introduces creamy opulence, its indolic depth lending warmth and sensuality, while jasmine — likely Jasminum grandiflorum from Grasse — adds luminosity with its narcotic sweetness and hints of green banana-like freshness from benzyl acetate.

Orris, derived from the aged rhizomes of the iris flower, imparts an extraordinary texture — powdery, buttery, and faintly reminiscent of violet and suede. Its key molecule, ionone, provides a soft, velvety impression that seems to suspend the florals in air. Violet itself enhances this effect, with its nostalgic, slightly candied aroma that lends gentility and grace. The inclusion of Iraldeine — a synthetic violet-orris compound — would have been a marvel of innovation at the time. It amplifies the iris’s violet tones while lending a modern, diffusive quality to the bouquet, allowing the fragrance to project with elegant subtlety rather than weight.

As the fragrance deepens, Santal reveals its most enduring and signature character — a luxurious, resinous base suffused with warmth and quiet sensuality. Patchouli brings earthy depth and shadow, its camphorous and chocolate-like aspects grounding the florals. Then comes the heartwood — Mysore sandalwood, creamy, sacred, and luminous. Distilled from Santalum album grown in India’s Karnataka region, it exudes a uniquely smooth aroma — soft, milky, and gently spiced, imbued with santalols that lend the composition its lasting tranquility. Unlike other varieties of sandalwood, Mysore’s oil carries a buttery, almost ambered warmth that feels round and enveloping — a true symbol of luxury in perfumery.

The base is laced with an orchestral array of resins and balsams — benzoin from Siam, rich in vanilla-like warmth; Tolu balsam from Colombia and Peru balsam from El Salvador, both sweet, resinous, and softly smoky; and styrax, offering a leathery, cinnamon-tinged darkness. These materials, rich in natural cinnamic and benzoic acids, form the glowing foundation upon which the entire perfume rests.

Coumarin, one of perfumery’s earliest synthetic treasures, threads through this foundation with its hay-like, almond-vanilla scent, harmonizing beautifully with the natural vanillin that adds creamy sweetness. Together they amplify the natural balsams’ warmth and help extend the life of the floral notes above. Civet, used in minute quantities, lends animalic depth — a whisper of warmth that softens the composition’s woody edges — while musk and musk ketone weave a velvety texture through the base, their clean, slightly powdery character enhancing the tactile richness of the woods.

In the end, Santal becomes more than the sum of its parts. It begins in light — with citrus and blossoms that shimmer like morning sun — and descends gracefully into shadow, where woods, resins, and musk create a sanctuary of calm, sensual warmth. Every transition feels natural, organic, and deeply human.

To smell Santal is to experience the very soul of 19th-century perfumery — a meeting of nature and early science, of sensuality and restraint. Its beauty lies not in overt opulence but in the seamless blending of opposites: brightness and depth, purity and warmth, the natural and the newly invented. In Guerlain’s hands, sandalwood is not just a material — it is a state of grace.

Bottles:

It was housed in the Carre flacon (square flacon) for parfum

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. It continued to be sold at least until 1939
 

Perfumes for Linen (1878)

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

Sachet en papier (Paper sachet)

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

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

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

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

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

Peaux d’Espagne (Spanish Leather)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vétiver, en boîtes (Vetiver, in boxes)

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

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

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

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

New Mown Hay c1852

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

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

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

 

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

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

Fragrance Composition:

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

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

Scent Profile:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bottles:

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

Fate of the Fragrance:

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

Avril en Fleurs c1883

Avril en Fleurs (1883) – The name translates from French as “April in Bloom.” Created by Pierre-François Pascal Guerlain, this fragrance was later reformulated by Jacques Guerlain in 1905. Still being sold in 1917, it was likely Guerlain’s interpretation of the highly popular floral scent “Spring Flowers,” given a distinctive name. Housed in elegant 19th-century flacons, it reflects Guerlain’s signature style of bright, fresh floral bouquets designed to evoke the renewal and fragrance of springtime..

Avril en Fleurs (“April in Bloom”), as described in the American Jewish Chronicle in 1917, evokes the essence of early spring with remarkable immediacy and clarity. The reviewer’s words paint a vivid olfactory landscape: at first sniff, one encounters the freshness of young, half-opened blossoms, their delicate petals conveying a soft, almost crinkly texture, like the tender leaves of newly sprouted plants. This gentle, floral aroma conjures the lightness and vitality of spring, a fragrance that feels alive with the season’s quiet energy.

The description emphasizes the airy, fleeting quality of the scent, akin to the impression of a light blue April sky, dotted with scurrying white clouds and carried on unexpected little breezes. It is not merely a perfume but an olfactory embodiment of nature’s awakening, capturing the freshness, purity, and optimism of early spring. Women of the period would likely have experienced Avril on Fleurs as both uplifting and elegant, a delicate reflection of renewal, femininity, and the intimate joy of stepping outdoors to witness the first blooms of the season.

In this way, the fragrance stands as a poetic interpretation of the landscape, using the soft sweetness of blossoms and tender greenery to evoke a time, place, and emotion that transcends the mere act of scent-wearing. It exemplifies the artistry of perfumers in translating visual and tactile impressions of nature into aromatic experiences, inviting the wearer to immerse themselves fully in a sensory memory of spring.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Avril en Fleurs is classified as an opulent floral oriental fragrance for women.

• Top notes: bergamot, sweet orange, cassie, rose, violet, sweet pea
• Middle notes: hyacinth, magnolia, seringa, geranium, rose, violet
• Base notes: verbena, vanillin, sandalwood, ambergris, civet, musk

Scent Profile:

Avril en Fleurs—its name alone feels like a sigh of spring. The phrase immediately conjures the tender, luminous rebirth of nature: the pale gold of sunlight filtering through young leaves, petals unfolding after a long winter, and the delicate hum of life awakening. Guerlain’s choice of this name (if we imagine it emerging from the house’s romantic lexicon) would have been deliberate—an evocation of freshness, femininity, and optimism. “April in Bloom” is both a literal image and a metaphor for womanhood itself—grace in renewal, beauty in full awakening, and sensuality budding beneath refinement.

When Avril en Fleurs was introduced, it would have reflected the sensibilities of its era—a time when perfumery celebrated lush naturalism and romantic femininity. The early-to-mid 20th century was defined by elegance and a longing for sophistication after periods of upheaval. Women’s fashion was shifting toward softness—bias-cut gowns, floral chiffons, and lighter, fluid silhouettes that embraced the natural form. This perfume, with its opulent floral oriental character, would have harmonized perfectly with that aesthetic. Perfumery at the time was steeped in the language of gardens and exotic allure, blending European refinement with hints of faraway sensuality. A perfume called Avril en Fleurs would have appealed deeply to women of the age—symbolizing youth and hope, yet enriched with an oriental warmth that hinted at passion beneath propriety.

To smell Avril en Fleurs is to experience a journey from morning to dusk in a perfumed garden. The opening bursts with bergamot and sweet orange, both sparkling and effervescent, the citrus oils releasing bright linalool and limonene molecules that awaken the senses. Their crisp freshness is softened by cassie—a golden, powdery mimosa note with almondy nuances from its natural benzaldehyde content—and the romantic hush of rose and violet. The sweet pea adds a fragile, pastel sweetness, airy and nostalgic, like petals caught on the breeze.

In the heart, the florals deepen into a heady symphony. Hyacinth brings a green, dewy coolness, while magnolia unfolds with creamy, lemony nuances—its linalool oxide lending both brightness and texture. Seringa, or mock orange, contributes a honeyed, jasmine-like sweetness that bridges the heart to the warmth of geranium, rose, and violet. The result is complex yet harmonious—a floral accord that feels alive, moving from fresh to voluptuous, innocence to seduction.

As it settles, Avril en Fleurs unveils its oriental soul. The base is warm and sensual, grounded in sandalwood—creamy, resinous, and softly smoky—enriched by the balsamic sweetness of vanillin and the marine-animalic nuance of ambergris. Civet adds a barely-there shadow of warmth and animal magnetism, while musk smooths the entire composition into a soft, tactile finish. A thread of verbena lingers from the top, brightening the heavier tones with its green, citrusy clarity. Together, they form a drydown that feels both intimate and expansive—like the scent of skin warmed by the afternoon sun among blooming flowers.

The phrase Avril en Fleurs interpreted in scent becomes a portrait of spring itself: a marriage of freshness and sensuality, of the earth’s awakening and human tenderness. In the context of its time, it would have been considered a sophisticated creation—aligned with the floral richness popular in perfumery, yet distinct for its luxurious oriental base. Where many floral perfumes of the era leaned toward the powdery or the romantic, Avril en Fleurs dared to be both—lush, radiant, and softly carnal beneath its bouquet of blossoms.

It is, ultimately, a perfume about transformation—the same transformation April brings to the world each year. A whisper of rebirth, a promise of beauty, and the fleeting magic of a moment suspended between innocence and desire.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still being sold in 1917.