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- 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- 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- 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- Lasso

There's very little information available about Lasso, an old and long-forgotten perfume from the house of Patou. It's not even clear when exactly it was launched. Some online sources are dating it as a 1936 release, the year Jean Patou died. But I've also seen various mentions of 1956 and 1957, which seems to be supported by ads from the late 1950s, stating Lasso was a new perfume.

One thing is for sure: Lasso was created with one thing it mind. Seduction.

The English version of these ads call Lasso "Your secret weapon", which is quite appropriate for this beautiful leather chypre. I could not find a list of notes, but some things are quite apparent. Lasso was not a Bandit clone. If anything, it's more closely related to Mitsouko, as before the more leathery drydown there's a rich fruity heart which smells more than a little peachy. It's a little powdery and I wouldn't be surprised to find out there's some heliotrope in there. The combination feels very round and smooth, no jagged edges and spiky heels. More like a velvet evening gown and matching satin shoes, but with more than a hint of tasteful cleavage, an elegant updo and heirloom jewelry. Lasso is well-bread but promises a little naughtiness if you linger close enough.

Just as it is unclear when Lasso was launched, I can't find any information on what year Patou has discontinued it. Bottles pop up here and there on eBay, and I've noticed they come in several shapes, and that there must have been both an EDT and a parfum extrait. As you can see, my own bottle looks different than the one illustrated in the ad. I have a couple of other vintage Patou perfumes in a similar bottle, but they are from different years, so it doesn't help to solve the mystery.

Lasso ad from Joan Thewelis on Flickr, bottle photo by me, handsome model: Peter.

Jean Patou Divine Folie- The Lost Perfumes

Paris 1933. We all know what was yet to come. Jean Patou himself only had three more years to live. His fashion house that relied heavily on American money and demand for luxury goods was now surviving thanks to its perfume department. This was the atmosphere that launched Divine Folie.

Divine Folie is rich and warm. With notes of neroli, ylang-ylang, iris, rose, jasmine, musk and vanilla, it's a sultry oriental, sensual with a distinct come-hither vibe. It's very balanced, feels like a serious, classic perfume, but without dating itself (too much). It's champagne and roses, a long velvet dress worn with sparkling jewels, red lipstick and a lover's hand on your shoulder.

There is something melancholy about this Patou creation, but maybe it's just hindsight or simply wearing a lost perfume that can never be replaced from a house ravished by the times, the economy and Proctor & Gamble.




Divine Folie and several other Patou perfumes from that period were re-released in the 80s as part of the Ma Collection. The pure parfums came with a cute vintage scarf, printed to match the box design, as you can see in my photos. There was also a box set of all 12 miniature EDT bottles of the Ma Collection. The small one in the last photo is part of the set, and I like to layer the EDT with the parfum to add intensity.

Obviously, Divine Folie and the rest of good Patou perfumes of yore have been discontinued. The EDT can still be found online here and there, and the parfum makes appearances on eBay.

Fashion images: a 1924 fur trimmed Jean Patou gown (top), a 1937 illustration of a Patou outfit by Berard from Petite Main on Flickr.
Bottle photos are mine.

Jean Patou Ma Liberte - The Lost Perfumes

Ma Liberte from Jean Patou was launched in 1987, a year that saw Glenn Close boil a bunny, Jon Bon Jovi livin' on a prayer, Bono still not finding what he was looking for, and the major events in my 17 year old world were acquiring and losing my first boyfriend and lamenting the disbanding of my beloved Smiths.

Other perfumes from that year include my long time favorites Panthere de Cartier and Tiffany, LouLou by Cacharel which my sister used to fumigate her bedroom, the classic elevator clearer Passion from Elizabeth Taylor and 66 others, most, just like Ma Liberté, are now discontinued.

If it were launched today (probably not by the fallen house of Patou, now part of Proctor & Gamble's toothpaste empire), Ma Liberté could have easily been a unisex niche scent. It completely lacks the shoulder pads or any of the characteristics of that decade and there's no way you'd imagine Nancy Reagan wearing it.

Ma Liberté has an elegant modern feel and a perfect balance of a crisp, almost light top and a warm, slightly dirty base. I get a lot of lavender in the opening, and something green and citrusy. The former stays on while the latter fades as the spicy, somewhat abstract floral notes make their soft entrance. But most of the perfume and what makes the lengthy drydown is a gorgeous leather-tobacco note that stays on forever. I get 10-12 hours of this perfumes (my bottle is the EdP), and while its sillage is restrained, there's no mistaking it in your very personal space.

It's this drydown that makes Ma Liberté both unisex and unique. The leather is soft and the tobacco warm, dry and inviting. It gives a rich and sophisticated feeling, as though you're in the know of a secret or two, but never ever (and I've worn it on a couple of really hot days this month) gets vulgar.

Just another reason to sigh about Jean Patou's fading glory.

Ma Liberté by Jean Patou was officially discontinued a few years ago. Bottles of the EDT are still available online for around $40. I don't know how much they differ than the EDP, which is what I reviewed here. The higher concentrations pop from time to time on various sites like eBay and Basenotes.

Top photo: an 1987 cover of French Vogue, featuring the amazing Christie Turlington
Bottle and Giselle: both photos are mine

Sira des Indes By Jean Patou -The One With The Banana

The first few times I tested Sira des Indes on my wrist were mostly a dare and a little game I was playing with myself. This 2006 perfume from the formerly mighty house of Jean Patou is mostly famous for having a banana accord, and a synthetic banana is among the vilest of scents as far as I'm concerned. But I sprayed, sniffed and survived. And tried it again several more times until I found myself searching online and buying a 1/4 oz bottle of Sira des Indes in parfum extrait against my better judgment. How did that happen?

The short answer: The thing smells pretty and it was a bargain.

I'm a sucker for extraits. Even if they come from a perfume house that has gone downhill so much you can barely recognize its roots and former glory. Even if said house is now owned by a giant corporation (Procter & Gamble) more famous for feminine hygiene products, paper towels and over-the-counter heartburn medication, to only name a few highlights.

Let there be no mistakes here: Sira des Indes is a tropical fruity floral, pink, punch-like and girly. It has a creamy sandalwoodish vanilla drydown that appeals to one's inner teenager and opulent tropical flowers that belong on a printed pareo wrap worn on the Love Boat's Lido Deck(preferably while reading a chick-lit novel and sipping a pink drink decorated with a pink umbrella from a glass that had its rim dipped in pink sugar).

This still doesn't explain why I own this little bottle.

The thing is, Sira des Indes is actually very balanced. Yes, it's sweet, but none of the facets- the fruits, the flowers or the milky base-is too overwhelming or aggressive. I don't get the banana, either. It's more of an abstract plate of fruit poached in a vanilla bean syrup. The flowers are kept in check and never turn screechy or suffocating. Champaca notes can be easier to wear than gardenia or tuberose, and they play well with others, without hogging the bottle.

The result in this case is a cheerful little thing for summer. My skin is extremely vanilla-friendly, and the the parfum, with its creamier tendencies and medium-low sillage, works nicely. I consider wearing Sira des Indes an equivalent of wearing pink. It's not really my style and I don't do it often, but there are days that call for it.

Sira des Indes is one of the few Jean Patou perfumes still in production. It's sold in most department stores for a pretty penny, but can be found for less than half retail price through the usual suspects online. The parfum is a better choice than the EDP, if you can find it, though it doesn't add to the scent's lasting power.

Art: Amaryllis 06 by Marcia Baldwin