Jean Patou 1000

I doubt a perfume can get more French than 1000 by Jean Patou. A decidedly floral chypre that isn't afraid to smell perfumy and dress up. While this Patou is actually younger than me, it could have easily been released a decade or two earlier with some other iconic Patou scents.

It opens with greens and aldehydes that set the tone and expectations. When you smell aldehydes it often brings an imagery of tailored outfits and perfect hair. Some find them dated, but eventually we learn to appreciate their sunny quality and the way they uplift heavy floral notes and take them beyond a cottage garden. In the case of 1000, the aldehyde keep the green and almost camphor-like opening from becoming too bitter or medicinal. Instead, it's elegant and sophisticated, making the transition into the floral heart a very interesting one.

I smell roses and a gorgeous more leathery than fruity osmanthus (yes, I'm on a serious osmanthus kick lately). The best part, though, is the subtly animalic base. It's sexy this confident, worldly way. 1000 is not about showing skin or taking cues from the Kardashians, the woman wearing it will never give paparazzi the money shot. Instead, she gives them a half smile, readjusts the black sunglasses and disappears from their sight.

I want to be that woman.

1000 by Jean Patou ($190, 2.5oz EDP or $275, 0.5oz extrait de parfum) is available in very limited distribution. Here in the states it can be found at Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman, including online. I have older bottles of the parfum and the EDT, and I'm not sure if and how they've changed the formula in the last decade.

Photo of Gitta Schilling in a Jean Patou dress by F.C. Gundlach, 1962 from myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou 1000

I doubt a perfume can get more French than 1000 by Jean Patou. A decidedly floral chypre that isn't afraid to smell perfumy and dress up. While this Patou is actually younger than me, it could have easily been released a decade or two earlier with some other iconic Patou scents.

It opens with greens and aldehydes that set the tone and expectations. When you smell aldehydes it often brings an imagery of tailored outfits and perfect hair. Some find them dated, but eventually we learn to appreciate their sunny quality and the way they uplift heavy floral notes and take them beyond a cottage garden. In the case of 1000, the aldehyde keep the green and almost camphor-like opening from becoming too bitter or medicinal. Instead, it's elegant and sophisticated, making the transition into the floral heart a very interesting one.

I smell roses and a gorgeous more leathery than fruity osmanthus (yes, I'm on a serious osmanthus kick lately). The best part, though, is the subtly animalic base. It's sexy this confident, worldly way. 1000 is not about showing skin or taking cues from the Kardashians, the woman wearing it will never give paparazzi the money shot. Instead, she gives them a half smile, readjusts the black sunglasses and disappears from their sight.

I want to be that woman.

1000 by Jean Patou ($190, 2.5oz EDP or $275, 0.5oz extrait de parfum) is available in very limited distribution. Here in the states it can be found at Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman, including online. I have older bottles of the parfum and the EDT, and I'm not sure if and how they've changed the formula in the last decade.

Photo of Gitta Schilling in a Jean Patou dress by F.C. Gundlach, 1962 from myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou 1000

I doubt a perfume can get more French than 1000 by Jean Patou. A decidedly floral chypre that isn't afraid to smell perfumy and dress up. While this Patou is actually younger than me, it could have easily been released a decade or two earlier with some other iconic Patou scents.

It opens with greens and aldehydes that set the tone and expectations. When you smell aldehydes it often brings an imagery of tailored outfits and perfect hair. Some find them dated, but eventually we learn to appreciate their sunny quality and the way they uplift heavy floral notes and take them beyond a cottage garden. In the case of 1000, the aldehyde keep the green and almost camphor-like opening from becoming too bitter or medicinal. Instead, it's elegant and sophisticated, making the transition into the floral heart a very interesting one.

I smell roses and a gorgeous more leathery than fruity osmanthus (yes, I'm on a serious osmanthus kick lately). The best part, though, is the subtly animalic base. It's sexy this confident, worldly way. 1000 is not about showing skin or taking cues from the Kardashians, the woman wearing it will never give paparazzi the money shot. Instead, she gives them a half smile, readjusts the black sunglasses and disappears from their sight.

I want to be that woman.

1000 by Jean Patou ($190, 2.5oz EDP or $275, 0.5oz extrait de parfum) is available in very limited distribution. Here in the states it can be found at Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman, including online. I have older bottles of the parfum and the EDT, and I'm not sure if and how they've changed the formula in the last decade.

Photo of Gitta Schilling in a Jean Patou dress by F.C. Gundlach, 1962 from myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou Sublime

If there's one perfume-related decision I've made that now causes me to kick myself, it's the bottle of Sublime EDP I sold eight years ago. I bought it after using up a sample but eventually decided it was too floral and traditional. I was desperately seeking something more edgy and different, but had yet to discover Serge Lutens, and Sublime didn't hit the spot for me. Yes, I'm giving myself the stink eye as we speak.

Sublime is a sophisticated and complex floral chypre with quite a bit of green thrown in. The seamless blend was probably the reason I wasn't so thrilled with it back then- it has a very classic French feel with an aldehydic opening and absolutely nothing that ties this Patou perfume to 1992, the year it was launched. Actually, Sublime would feel right at home with 1950s Jean Patou dresses and the women who wore them. I guess I had to grow into this perfume, or simply get my freak on elsewhere before I was able to dedicate part of my fragrance wardrobe to elegant timelessness.

I rectified my careless mistake when I began to fully appreciate Patou perfumes. I now own both the EDP and the parfum, both in slightly older bottles. The extrait de parfum is sweeter and feels more ambery than chypre, while the oakmoss is more present in the EDP. Both possess a rare and luminous splendor, and layering them brings out the full effect and richness. Sublime is the kind of perfume I'd wear on a first date, even if it's a casual one. It has the perfect combination of alluring femininity and an effortless confidence. It's powerful and easygoing at the same time. Actually, I'd also wear it for the second and third date, just because.

Sublime is still in production. It appears on the Patou website and sold for full retail price ($95, 3.4oz EDP) with the other Patou perfumes that are still standing at many department stores. Since it's both a chypre and the property of Proctor & Gamble I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was reformulated at some point in the not so distant past. My local Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale's both stock it, but the tester is chronically missing, so I can't confirm it.

Images:
Sublime ad from the early 1990s- fragrantica.com
Model Joanna McCormick for Patou by Henry Clark, 1957- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou Sublime

If there's one perfume-related decision I've made that now causes me to kick myself, it's the bottle of Sublime EDP I sold eight years ago. I bought it after using up a sample but eventually decided it was too floral and traditional. I was desperately seeking something more edgy and different, but had yet to discover Serge Lutens, and Sublime didn't hit the spot for me. Yes, I'm giving myself the stink eye as we speak.

Sublime is a sophisticated and complex floral chypre with quite a bit of green thrown in. The seamless blend was probably the reason I wasn't so thrilled with it back then- it has a very classic French feel with an aldehydic opening and absolutely nothing that ties this Patou perfume to 1992, the year it was launched. Actually, Sublime would feel right at home with 1950s Jean Patou dresses and the women who wore them. I guess I had to grow into this perfume, or simply get my freak on elsewhere before I was able to dedicate part of my fragrance wardrobe to elegant timelessness.

I rectified my careless mistake when I began to fully appreciate Patou perfumes. I now own both the EDP and the parfum, both in slightly older bottles. The extrait de parfum is sweeter and feels more ambery than chypre, while the oakmoss is more present in the EDP. Both possess a rare and luminous splendor, and layering them brings out the full effect and richness. Sublime is the kind of perfume I'd wear on a first date, even if it's a casual one. It has the perfect combination of alluring femininity and an effortless confidence. It's powerful and easygoing at the same time. Actually, I'd also wear it for the second and third date, just because.

Sublime is still in production. It appears on the Patou website and sold for full retail price ($95, 3.4oz EDP) with the other Patou perfumes that are still standing at many department stores. Since it's both a chypre and the property of Proctor & Gamble I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was reformulated at some point in the not so distant past. My local Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale's both stock it, but the tester is chronically missing, so I can't confirm it.

Images:
Sublime ad from the early 1990s- fragrantica.com
Model Joanna McCormick for Patou by Henry Clark, 1957- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou Sublime

If there's one perfume-related decision I've made that now causes me to kick myself, it's the bottle of Sublime EDP I sold eight years ago. I bought it after using up a sample but eventually decided it was too floral and traditional. I was desperately seeking something more edgy and different, but had yet to discover Serge Lutens, and Sublime didn't hit the spot for me. Yes, I'm giving myself the stink eye as we speak.

Sublime is a sophisticated and complex floral chypre with quite a bit of green thrown in. The seamless blend was probably the reason I wasn't so thrilled with it back then- it has a very classic French feel with an aldehydic opening and absolutely nothing that ties this Patou perfume to 1992, the year it was launched. Actually, Sublime would feel right at home with 1950s Jean Patou dresses and the women who wore them. I guess I had to grow into this perfume, or simply get my freak on elsewhere before I was able to dedicate part of my fragrance wardrobe to elegant timelessness.

I rectified my careless mistake when I began to fully appreciate Patou perfumes. I now own both the EDP and the parfum, both in slightly older bottles. The extrait de parfum is sweeter and feels more ambery than chypre, while the oakmoss is more present in the EDP. Both possess a rare and luminous splendor, and layering them brings out the full effect and richness. Sublime is the kind of perfume I'd wear on a first date, even if it's a casual one. It has the perfect combination of alluring femininity and an effortless confidence. It's powerful and easygoing at the same time. Actually, I'd also wear it for the second and third date, just because.

Sublime is still in production. It appears on the Patou website and sold for full retail price ($95, 3.4oz EDP) with the other Patou perfumes that are still standing at many department stores. Since it's both a chypre and the property of Proctor & Gamble I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was reformulated at some point in the not so distant past. My local Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale's both stock it, but the tester is chronically missing, so I can't confirm it.

Images:
Sublime ad from the early 1990s- fragrantica.com
Model Joanna McCormick for Patou by Henry Clark, 1957- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou- Enjoy

I bought a bottle of Enjoy in 2002 or 2003, shortly after this Jean Patou perfume was launched. I remember a little fanfare over it- after all, a new release from Jean Patou is quite major. There were displays and posters in some of the local department stores and scent strips in magazines (the husband says they smell the same to him and mostly like glue). It was an impulse purchase based mostly on a quick sniffing and spraying at the store and a wish to find a Patou that agrees with me (what a difference a decade makes!).

I liked the exuberance of the green fruit over an opulent classic floral heart (that's where the connection to the classic Joy starts and ends). In theory, that is. After wearing Enjoy for a week or so I realized we were not meant to be. The fruit notes (citrus, banana and pear. Sounds like mashed baby food) didn't like my skin and I didn't like them back and couldn't smell past them. A few weeks later I sold my bottle (and a full bottle of Sublime. Yes, I'm kicking myself).

You know how these stories end. After I moved and rearranged all the samples I have in drawers I discovered a couple of Enjoy vials. I decided to give it a try, and boy was that love. Years ago I've heard it described as a chypre and for the life of me couldn't figure out why and how. While Enjoy is definitely not a chypre (no oakmoss, for starts), it is one of those modern concoctions with a green note on a non-gourmand patchouli based. Don't mistake it for an Angel clone, though. The fruit here is sheer and the base free of any chocolate, caramel. There's no vulgarity or any of that cheap smelling yummy vibe.

Instead, this Patou (or rather Jean-Michel Duriez) creation is modern in the best sense of the word. It's approachable and friendly, but you can't mistake the good breeding and proud ancestry. It's no wonder the chosen face of Enjoy was Chiara Mastroianni, daughter of Marcello Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve. While Enjoy was labeled and targeted at a younger demographic than the classic Patou perfumes, they didn't try to be too young or compete in the 15-minute celebrity game. Ms. Mastroianni was 30 when she got the job, and her look, talent and depth have put her in the same group of second-generation of fame with Charlotte Gainsbourg, not Rumer Willis or Peaches Geldof.

Enjoy's easy manners and understated charm feel quite feminine when I'm wearing it. But men who are not afraid of a fruity opening and heart of rose can probably pull it off easily. It's much lighter than DelRare's Bois de Paradis, for example. One would think that a perfume like this would be the bestseller the house of Patou (now owned by Procter & Gamble) needed to make a commercial comeback. Sadly, it never happened. While the fragrance has not been discontinued (yes, I know everyone says it was and I thought the same thing until yesterday), it was pulled off the counters in the USA and relegated to the online discounters. Patou's official website not only lists Enjoy as one of the current  perfumes on the market, there's also a full range of bath and body products. I assume they can all be found on the shelves in Europe for their full retail price. Here it's easy to find the EDP online for under $50. Monsieur Patou might be rolling in his grave, but personally I'm just happy that P&G didn't completely kill the brand (even if they try their best to strip it from every last bit of luxury).

Enjoy 2002 ad: Images de Parfums
Photo of Chiara Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve: The Independent, 2009

Jean Patou- Enjoy

I bought a bottle of Enjoy in 2002 or 2003, shortly after this Jean Patou perfume was launched. I remember a little fanfare over it- after all, a new release from Jean Patou is quite major. There were displays and posters in some of the local department stores and scent strips in magazines (the husband says they smell the same to him and mostly like glue). It was an impulse purchase based mostly on a quick sniffing and spraying at the store and a wish to find a Patou that agrees with me (what a difference a decade makes!).

I liked the exuberance of the green fruit over an opulent classic floral heart (that's where the connection to the classic Joy starts and ends). In theory, that is. After wearing Enjoy for a week or so I realized we were not meant to be. The fruit notes (citrus, banana and pear. Sounds like mashed baby food) didn't like my skin and I didn't like them back and couldn't smell past them. A few weeks later I sold my bottle (and a full bottle of Sublime. Yes, I'm kicking myself).

You know how these stories end. After I moved and rearranged all the samples I have in drawers I discovered a couple of Enjoy vials. I decided to give it a try, and boy was that love. Years ago I've heard it described as a chypre and for the life of me couldn't figure out why and how. While Enjoy is definitely not a chypre (no oakmoss, for starts), it is one of those modern concoctions with a green note on a non-gourmand patchouli based. Don't mistake it for an Angel clone, though. The fruit here is sheer and the base free of any chocolate, caramel. There's no vulgarity or any of that cheap smelling yummy vibe.

Instead, this Patou (or rather Jean-Michel Duriez) creation is modern in the best sense of the word. It's approachable and friendly, but you can't mistake the good breeding and proud ancestry. It's no wonder the chosen face of Enjoy was Chiara Mastroianni, daughter of Marcello Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve. While Enjoy was labeled and targeted at a younger demographic than the classic Patou perfumes, they didn't try to be too young or compete in the 15-minute celebrity game. Ms. Mastroianni was 30 when she got the job, and her look, talent and depth have put her in the same group of second-generation of fame with Charlotte Gainsbourg, not Rumer Willis or Peaches Geldof.

Enjoy's easy manners and understated charm feel quite feminine when I'm wearing it. But men who are not afraid of a fruity opening and heart of rose can probably pull it off easily. It's much lighter than DelRare's Bois de Paradis, for example. One would think that a perfume like this would be the bestseller the house of Patou (now owned by Procter & Gamble) needed to make a commercial comeback. Sadly, it never happened. While the fragrance has not been discontinued (yes, I know everyone says it was and I thought the same thing until yesterday), it was pulled off the counters in the USA and relegated to the online discounters. Patou's official website not only lists Enjoy as one of the current  perfumes on the market, there's also a full range of bath and body products. I assume they can all be found on the shelves in Europe for their full retail price. Here it's easy to find the EDP online for under $50. Monsieur Patou might be rolling in his grave, but personally I'm just happy that P&G didn't completely kill the brand (even if they try their best to strip it from every last bit of luxury).

Enjoy 2002 ad: Images de Parfums
Photo of Chiara Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve: The Independent, 2009

Jean Patou- Enjoy

I bought a bottle of Enjoy in 2002 or 2003, shortly after this Jean Patou perfume was launched. I remember a little fanfare over it- after all, a new release from Jean Patou is quite major. There were displays and posters in some of the local department stores and scent strips in magazines (the husband says they smell the same to him and mostly like glue). It was an impulse purchase based mostly on a quick sniffing and spraying at the store and a wish to find a Patou that agrees with me (what a difference a decade makes!).

I liked the exuberance of the green fruit over an opulent classic floral heart (that's where the connection to the classic Joy starts and ends). In theory, that is. After wearing Enjoy for a week or so I realized we were not meant to be. The fruit notes (citrus, banana and pear. Sounds like mashed baby food) didn't like my skin and I didn't like them back and couldn't smell past them. A few weeks later I sold my bottle (and a full bottle of Sublime. Yes, I'm kicking myself).

You know how these stories end. After I moved and rearranged all the samples I have in drawers I discovered a couple of Enjoy vials. I decided to give it a try, and boy was that love. Years ago I've heard it described as a chypre and for the life of me couldn't figure out why and how. While Enjoy is definitely not a chypre (no oakmoss, for starts), it is one of those modern concoctions with a green note on a non-gourmand patchouli based. Don't mistake it for an Angel clone, though. The fruit here is sheer and the base free of any chocolate, caramel. There's no vulgarity or any of that cheap smelling yummy vibe.

Instead, this Patou (or rather Jean-Michel Duriez) creation is modern in the best sense of the word. It's approachable and friendly, but you can't mistake the good breeding and proud ancestry. It's no wonder the chosen face of Enjoy was Chiara Mastroianni, daughter of Marcello Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve. While Enjoy was labeled and targeted at a younger demographic than the classic Patou perfumes, they didn't try to be too young or compete in the 15-minute celebrity game. Ms. Mastroianni was 30 when she got the job, and her look, talent and depth have put her in the same group of second-generation of fame with Charlotte Gainsbourg, not Rumer Willis or Peaches Geldof.

Enjoy's easy manners and understated charm feel quite feminine when I'm wearing it. But men who are not afraid of a fruity opening and heart of rose can probably pull it off easily. It's much lighter than DelRare's Bois de Paradis, for example. One would think that a perfume like this would be the bestseller the house of Patou (now owned by Procter & Gamble) needed to make a commercial comeback. Sadly, it never happened. While the fragrance has not been discontinued (yes, I know everyone says it was and I thought the same thing until yesterday), it was pulled off the counters in the USA and relegated to the online discounters. Patou's official website not only lists Enjoy as one of the current  perfumes on the market, there's also a full range of bath and body products. I assume they can all be found on the shelves in Europe for their full retail price. Here it's easy to find the EDP online for under $50. Monsieur Patou might be rolling in his grave, but personally I'm just happy that P&G didn't completely kill the brand (even if they try their best to strip it from every last bit of luxury).

Enjoy 2002 ad: Images de Parfums
Photo of Chiara Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve: The Independent, 2009

Jean Patou- Cocktail Dry (Vintage Perfume)

The DVF boutique in NYC has a large seating area in the middle of the store where you can usually see a few guys who came in with their wives or girlfriends playing games on their phones, texting and trying to pretend they're not really there. Jean Patou had a better solution in the 1920s: his couture studio featured a cocktail bar where the gentlemen could lounge while the ladies were being fitted. It probably helped put the men in a good mood and made paying for the gowns a lot more palatable.

By 1930 Patou decided to convert the space into a perfume bar and asked his house perfumer Henri Alméras to create a perfume trio: Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet and Cocktail Bittersweet. These are the ancestor of the better known Cocktail that is part of the Ma Collection.

Cocktail Dry and its siblings have been discontinued for decades and rarely appear anywhere. I was incredibly lucky to find a sealed albeit half evaporated bottle of the parfum and discover that while it's probably aged significantly, it still smelled beautiful. In its prime, Cocktail Dry was probably a lot greener, especially at the top. What's left is still very herbal and aromatic which makes me suspect it might have been a fougere. The surprising part of the scent is a round and full animalic base which I adore. The husband says the late drydown on my skin smells like honey. I think that's his perception of a certain type of animalic skank- think Miel de Bois or MKK.

I don't and of course would never wear fur, but the image created in my mind when smelling Cocktail Dry is standing in a bar, sipping something sophisticated (funny. I hardly ever drink) while having a luxurious fur casually draped over my shoulders. I'm also a lot taller in this picture and also speaking French, so I guess I really got drunk on this vintage cocktail.

1952 ad from hprints.com

Jean Patou- Cocktail Dry (Vintage Perfume)

The DVF boutique in NYC has a large seating area in the middle of the store where you can usually see a few guys who came in with their wives or girlfriends playing games on their phones, texting and trying to pretend they're not really there. Jean Patou had a better solution in the 1920s: his couture studio featured a cocktail bar where the gentlemen could lounge while the ladies were being fitted. It probably helped put the men in a good mood and made paying for the gowns a lot more palatable.

By 1930 Patou decided to convert the space into a perfume bar and asked his house perfumer Henri Alméras to create a perfume trio: Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet and Cocktail Bittersweet. These are the ancestor of the better known Cocktail that is part of the Ma Collection.

Cocktail Dry and its siblings have been discontinued for decades and rarely appear anywhere. I was incredibly lucky to find a sealed albeit half evaporated bottle of the parfum and discover that while it's probably aged significantly, it still smelled beautiful. In its prime, Cocktail Dry was probably a lot greener, especially at the top. What's left is still very herbal and aromatic which makes me suspect it might have been a fougere. The surprising part of the scent is a round and full animalic base which I adore. The husband says the late drydown on my skin smells like honey. I think that's his perception of a certain type of animalic skank- think Miel de Bois or MKK.

I don't and of course would never wear fur, but the image created in my mind when smelling Cocktail Dry is standing in a bar, sipping something sophisticated (funny. I hardly ever drink) while having a luxurious fur casually draped over my shoulders. I'm also a lot taller in this picture and also speaking French, so I guess I really got drunk on this vintage cocktail.

1952 ad from hprints.com

Jean Patou- Cocktail Dry (Vintage Perfume)

The DVF boutique in NYC has a large seating area in the middle of the store where you can usually see a few guys who came in with their wives or girlfriends playing games on their phones, texting and trying to pretend they're not really there. Jean Patou had a better solution in the 1920s: his couture studio featured a cocktail bar where the gentlemen could lounge while the ladies were being fitted. It probably helped put the men in a good mood and made paying for the gowns a lot more palatable.

By 1930 Patou decided to convert the space into a perfume bar and asked his house perfumer Henri Alméras to create a perfume trio: Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet and Cocktail Bittersweet. These are the ancestor of the better known Cocktail that is part of the Ma Collection.

Cocktail Dry and its siblings have been discontinued for decades and rarely appear anywhere. I was incredibly lucky to find a sealed albeit half evaporated bottle of the parfum and discover that while it's probably aged significantly, it still smelled beautiful. In its prime, Cocktail Dry was probably a lot greener, especially at the top. What's left is still very herbal and aromatic which makes me suspect it might have been a fougere. The surprising part of the scent is a round and full animalic base which I adore. The husband says the late drydown on my skin smells like honey. I think that's his perception of a certain type of animalic skank- think Miel de Bois or MKK.

I don't and of course would never wear fur, but the image created in my mind when smelling Cocktail Dry is standing in a bar, sipping something sophisticated (funny. I hardly ever drink) while having a luxurious fur casually draped over my shoulders. I'm also a lot taller in this picture and also speaking French, so I guess I really got drunk on this vintage cocktail.

1952 ad from hprints.com

Jean Patou- Amour Amour (Vintage Perfume)

When naming a perfume "Amour Amour" you're making a very clear statement. Jean Patou, or rather his in-house perfumer Henri Almeras, took it seriously. This 1925 composition together with Que Sais-Je? and Adieu Sagesse is part of a romantic trilogy that tells the story of a love affair- The exhilarating infatuation, the worry and doubt and the total surrender of body and soul.

It's easy to be a cynic and dismiss Patou's concept (and also the fact that each perfume was supposed to target women of different hair colors- Amour Amour is for the blondes, who apparently have more fun), and I do, but you can't ignore the fact that Amour Amour smells hopelessly romantic. More than anything it's a very feminine floral. Jasmine and rose give the perfume its elegant French feel, a lot of carnation, especially in the EDT concentration, and some dirty ylang-ylang. The eau de toilette drys down into a salty vetiver that smells surprisingly sensual, while the extrait de parfum is more animalic but takes its time getting there. Some sources don't list heliotrope among the notes, but when wearing the parfum I can clearly smell its creamy almond presence. As a matter of fact, somewhere around Amour Amour's heart it reminds me of a light-hearted and optimistic L'Heure Bleue.

Amour Amour, like the entire Ma Collection, was discontinued in the early 1990s but the EDT can still be found at various online sources. The extrait is harder to get, but bottles pop up on eBay.

Amour Amour ad from 1946- paperpursuits.com
Vintage fashion illustration of Jean Patou and Yvonne Carette dresses from 1933- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou- Amour Amour (Vintage Perfume)

When naming a perfume "Amour Amour" you're making a very clear statement. Jean Patou, or rather his in-house perfumer Henri Almeras, took it seriously. This 1925 composition together with Que Sais-Je? and Adieu Sagesse is part of a romantic trilogy that tells the story of a love affair- The exhilarating infatuation, the worry and doubt and the total surrender of body and soul.

It's easy to be a cynic and dismiss Patou's concept (and also the fact that each perfume was supposed to target women of different hair colors- Amour Amour is for the blondes, who apparently have more fun), and I do, but you can't ignore the fact that Amour Amour smells hopelessly romantic. More than anything it's a very feminine floral. Jasmine and rose give the perfume its elegant French feel, a lot of carnation, especially in the EDT concentration, and some dirty ylang-ylang. The eau de toilette drys down into a salty vetiver that smells surprisingly sensual, while the extrait de parfum is more animalic but takes its time getting there. Some sources don't list heliotrope among the notes, but when wearing the parfum I can clearly smell its creamy almond presence. As a matter of fact, somewhere around Amour Amour's heart it reminds me of a light-hearted and optimistic L'Heure Bleue.

Amour Amour, like the entire Ma Collection, was discontinued in the early 1990s but the EDT can still be found at various online sources. The extrait is harder to get, but bottles pop up on eBay.

Amour Amour ad from 1946- paperpursuits.com
Vintage fashion illustration of Jean Patou and Yvonne Carette dresses from 1933- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou- Amour Amour (Vintage Perfume)

When naming a perfume "Amour Amour" you're making a very clear statement. Jean Patou, or rather his in-house perfumer Henri Almeras, took it seriously. This 1925 composition together with Que Sais-Je? and Adieu Sagesse is part of a romantic trilogy that tells the story of a love affair- The exhilarating infatuation, the worry and doubt and the total surrender of body and soul.

It's easy to be a cynic and dismiss Patou's concept (and also the fact that each perfume was supposed to target women of different hair colors- Amour Amour is for the blondes, who apparently have more fun), and I do, but you can't ignore the fact that Amour Amour smells hopelessly romantic. More than anything it's a very feminine floral. Jasmine and rose give the perfume its elegant French feel, a lot of carnation, especially in the EDT concentration, and some dirty ylang-ylang. The eau de toilette drys down into a salty vetiver that smells surprisingly sensual, while the extrait de parfum is more animalic but takes its time getting there. Some sources don't list heliotrope among the notes, but when wearing the parfum I can clearly smell its creamy almond presence. As a matter of fact, somewhere around Amour Amour's heart it reminds me of a light-hearted and optimistic L'Heure Bleue.

Amour Amour, like the entire Ma Collection, was discontinued in the early 1990s but the EDT can still be found at various online sources. The extrait is harder to get, but bottles pop up on eBay.

Amour Amour ad from 1946- paperpursuits.com
Vintage fashion illustration of Jean Patou and Yvonne Carette dresses from 1933- myvintagevogue.com

Jean Patou- Moment Supreme (Vintage Perfume)

Would it be an unforgivable cliché to say that Jean Patou's 1929 Moment Supreme smells very French? It's the lavender, of course, and that "real perfume" base that goes from a rich amber (tonka bean maybe? a pungent ylang-ylang?) to an almost animalic. The very old bottle of vintage Moment Supreme makes me think it was created as Patou's answer to Guerlain's Jicky. The lavender over an oriental base is a similar theme, as is the unisex vibe.

The bottle of vintage parfum I have has lost all the bergamot it was supposed to have in its top notes, even though I bought it sealed (it was such a thrill to open the pristine packaging). The lavender is very sharp and spicy, though, and smells very much alive. The story is in the base notes- a gorgeous sweet and dirty musk that lurks behind the soft ambery notes. It lasts for several hours, warming up and softening even more on the skin.

I also have a mini Moment Supreme in EDT as a part of the Ma Collection boxed set. It's much newer and smells very fresh. The bergamot is fully there and the opening is a little like a men's cologne. The base is cleaner, much more polite and it retains some of that sheer, cool clarity of the opening. It doesn't last long, at least in the moderate application that a small mini splash bottle requires. But it's still very pleasant. I would have been very happy to see it resurrected so I could give the husband a full bottle and instruct him to spray with abandon.

Moment Supreme, together with the other Patou Ma Collection scents has been discontinued years ago. Bottles can still be found here and there, especially of the eau de toilette.

Elena of Perfume Shrine has written in great depth about the Ma Collection. You can find it here.

Vintage Moment Supreme ads (1947 and 1965): vintageadbrowser.com

Jean Patou- Moment Supreme (Vintage Perfume)

Would it be an unforgivable cliché to say that Jean Patou's 1929 Moment Supreme smells very French? It's the lavender, of course, and that "real perfume" base that goes from a rich amber (tonka bean maybe? a pungent ylang-ylang?) to an almost animalic. The very old bottle of vintage Moment Supreme makes me think it was created as Patou's answer to Guerlain's Jicky. The lavender over an oriental base is a similar theme, as is the unisex vibe.

The bottle of vintage parfum I have has lost all the bergamot it was supposed to have in its top notes, even though I bought it sealed (it was such a thrill to open the pristine packaging). The lavender is very sharp and spicy, though, and smells very much alive. The story is in the base notes- a gorgeous sweet and dirty musk that lurks behind the soft ambery notes. It lasts for several hours, warming up and softening even more on the skin.

I also have a mini Moment Supreme in EDT as a part of the Ma Collection boxed set. It's much newer and smells very fresh. The bergamot is fully there and the opening is a little like a men's cologne. The base is cleaner, much more polite and it retains some of that sheer, cool clarity of the opening. It doesn't last long, at least in the moderate application that a small mini splash bottle requires. But it's still very pleasant. I would have been very happy to see it resurrected so I could give the husband a full bottle and instruct him to spray with abandon.

Moment Supreme, together with the other Patou Ma Collection scents has been discontinued years ago. Bottles can still be found here and there, especially of the eau de toilette.

Elena of Perfume Shrine has written in great depth about the Ma Collection. You can find it here.

Vintage Moment Supreme ads (1947 and 1965): vintageadbrowser.com

Jean Patou- Moment Supreme (Vintage Perfume)

Would it be an unforgivable cliché to say that Jean Patou's 1929 Moment Supreme smells very French? It's the lavender, of course, and that "real perfume" base that goes from a rich amber (tonka bean maybe? a pungent ylang-ylang?) to an almost animalic. The very old bottle of vintage Moment Supreme makes me think it was created as Patou's answer to Guerlain's Jicky. The lavender over an oriental base is a similar theme, as is the unisex vibe.

The bottle of vintage parfum I have has lost all the bergamot it was supposed to have in its top notes, even though I bought it sealed (it was such a thrill to open the pristine packaging). The lavender is very sharp and spicy, though, and smells very much alive. The story is in the base notes- a gorgeous sweet and dirty musk that lurks behind the soft ambery notes. It lasts for several hours, warming up and softening even more on the skin.

I also have a mini Moment Supreme in EDT as a part of the Ma Collection boxed set. It's much newer and smells very fresh. The bergamot is fully there and the opening is a little like a men's cologne. The base is cleaner, much more polite and it retains some of that sheer, cool clarity of the opening. It doesn't last long, at least in the moderate application that a small mini splash bottle requires. But it's still very pleasant. I would have been very happy to see it resurrected so I could give the husband a full bottle and instruct him to spray with abandon.

Moment Supreme, together with the other Patou Ma Collection scents has been discontinued years ago. Bottles can still be found here and there, especially of the eau de toilette.

Elena of Perfume Shrine has written in great depth about the Ma Collection. You can find it here.

Vintage Moment Supreme ads (1947 and 1965): vintageadbrowser.com

Jean Patou- Chaldée (Vintage EDT)

George Hamilton and his friends in the leathery orange face cult didn't create anything new. As a matter of fact, you can blame Jean Patou, Coco Chanel and the rest of the 1920s high society and trendsetters. Having a tan was no longer limited to those working in the fields, and instead the evidence of a leisurely lifestyle: vacationing in the Riviera, yachting and playing tennis. The bronzed look became desired and fashionable women started using lotions and potions to help them achieve it.

Jean Patou, whose casual sportswear designs (try not to think about sweats with the word "Juicy" printed on one's butt) were all the rage, offered his clients what is now considered the first suntan lotion, Huile de Chaldée. The product gained popularity, and just like today, when tanning oil-inspired perfumes are quite popular (Beach by Bobbi Brown, At The Beach 1966 from CB I Hate Perfume, just to name a couple), a matching perfume called Chaldée followed in 1927.

Modern beach scents have something tropical going on, usually coconut, and lots of musk. Apparently, in Patou's days, the glitterati vacationed amidst hyacinth, orange blossom, jasmine and lots and lots of powder.

To the 21st century nose, Chaldée smells less like the beach and a lot more like an old-fashioned powdery-floarl perfume. I love hyacinth and an ambery drydown is usually right up my alley, but Chaldée can be trying at times. It might be the lilac, a note which can be difficult for me to pull off, or maybe something fussy in the composition as a whole. I have two bottles of the EDT from the 80s, one clearly in better shape than the other. Both have some pretty moments and I like putting some on and thinking of faraway times and places, but generally speaking, Chaldée is not my favorite from the Patou archives.

Chaldée, like the rest of the Ma Collection, has been discontinued and is getting increasingly harder to find, especially at a decent price.

Poster of the Huile de Chaldée ad from 1929: art-and-posters.com (priced at $1200, if you're interested).
Artwork from the 1920s by Romoli Filippo and Edgar Franklin.

Jean Patou- Chaldée (Vintage EDT)

George Hamilton and his friends in the leathery orange face cult didn't create anything new. As a matter of fact, you can blame Jean Patou, Coco Chanel and the rest of the 1920s high society and trendsetters. Having a tan was no longer limited to those working in the fields, and instead the evidence of a leisurely lifestyle: vacationing in the Riviera, yachting and playing tennis. The bronzed look became desired and fashionable women started using lotions and potions to help them achieve it.

Jean Patou, whose casual sportswear designs (try not to think about sweats with the word "Juicy" printed on one's butt) were all the rage, offered his clients what is now considered the first suntan lotion, Huile de Chaldée. The product gained popularity, and just like today, when tanning oil-inspired perfumes are quite popular (Beach by Bobbi Brown, At The Beach 1966 from CB I Hate Perfume, just to name a couple), a matching perfume called Chaldée followed in 1927.

Modern beach scents have something tropical going on, usually coconut, and lots of musk. Apparently, in Patou's days, the glitterati vacationed amidst hyacinth, orange blossom, jasmine and lots and lots of powder.

To the 21st century nose, Chaldée smells less like the beach and a lot more like an old-fashioned powdery-floarl perfume. I love hyacinth and an ambery drydown is usually right up my alley, but Chaldée can be trying at times. It might be the lilac, a note which can be difficult for me to pull off, or maybe something fussy in the composition as a whole. I have two bottles of the EDT from the 80s, one clearly in better shape than the other. Both have some pretty moments and I like putting some on and thinking of faraway times and places, but generally speaking, Chaldée is not my favorite from the Patou archives.

Chaldée, like the rest of the Ma Collection, has been discontinued and is getting increasingly harder to find, especially at a decent price.

Poster of the Huile de Chaldée ad from 1929: art-and-posters.com (priced at $1200, if you're interested).
Artwork from the 1920s by Romoli Filippo and Edgar Franklin.