Lanvin Eclat d'Arpege

I admit I never paid much attention to Eclat d'Arpege, Lanvin's 2003 release, beyond a couple of sniffing and the quickest skin test to determine that it was decidedly not my thing. However, since it has become my sister's signature perfume in the last couple of years (yes, she of Tresor and LouLou infamy)  I decided to give it a little more attention.

Eclat d'Arpege opens like many modern department store perfumes- a sheer fruity floral thing with an obvious clean musk overtones. The floral notes are very delicate and have a transparent, almost ethereal quality that feels very spring-like, evoking the first blooms of the season. The official notes include lilac and wisteria, and while I've smelled more realistic lilacs, there is this pale purple quality to the scent, even if my own skin tends to kill it upon contact.

My favorite part of this Lanvin perfume is the emerging of a soft osmanthus note, all fuzzy and peachy-apricoty. As far as fruit notes go, this is one of the best way to do it, as osmanthus flower has fruity overtones that don't scream of synthetics. Everything flows towards a wood and musk drydown that is less creamy than Eclat d'Arpege's opening lets on. The drydown is really very nice if this is your thing. It's too light and sheer for me and my skin chemistry doesn't do it any justice, but apparently, my sister gets many compliments on it.

While Eclat d'Arpege is not very original and is too much in the inoffensive, office-friendly category for my taste, I do think it's well done and very underrated. My sister and I are obviously evil scent twins, and it's pretty funny. I don't think we could ever wear each other's perfumes. Years ago I gave her my unloved bottles of YSL Paris and Chloe Narcisse. She wore both of them beautifully, which proves my point.

Bottom Line: One could do much worse when looking for a pretty summer floral.

Lanvin Eclat d'Arpege is available from some department stores and many online discounters. While retail price is $95 for 1.7oz, If you do some searching you'll find it for a fraction of the cost.

Images:
Eclat d'Arpege perfume ad from magazincosmetice.com
French Elle cover from May 1956 featuring Christian Dior's shantung "Glycine" (wisteria) skirt suit from Irenebrination.typepad.com

Lanvin Arpege

I spent a lifetime disliking Arpege. The aldehydes did me in every single time, which was why it took me forever to understand and learn to really love Chanel No. 5. That felt like enough  and I wasn't planning to put any effort into making friends with Lanvin's iconic perfume. But I kept sniffing it occasionally and shrugging. It always felt wrong. The amusing part is that unlike other classics I've come to enjoy after experiencing them in a vintage extrait de parfum, my appreciation for Arpege was born one day at either Saks or Nordstrom. They had the EDP on a forgotten corner of one counter, away from the main area where they try to push whatever overpriced drek de jour (before it's sent to face eternity at the discounters). A too-blonde pusher just shoved a scent strips under my nose and I needed to recalibrate my senses before dying from exposure to a synthetic raspberry. I grabbed the familiar black bottle, sprayed my wrist and noticed how much better this old-school thing was in comparison. The amalgamated floral heart was a lot more substantial than in many modern perfumes, and even though there was a thin feeling as it moved towards the drydown and that familiar vetiver base that seems to have  taken over just about every reformulation of the great classics, it was still good.

Arpege remained on my skin for hours and I found myself enjoying it a lot more than anticipated. It made me got back to vintage and discover what it was all about. It's clear that this Lanvin perfume relates heavily to Chanel No. 5, but then again, so many other perfumes from the first half of the 20th century were created in that image. Even Guerlain made Liu. No. 5 is ingrained deeply in many people's scent memory and is instantly recognizable even after all these years. It's probably why I and others feel a certain closeness to it, and combined with the sweet, somewhat vanillic base it feels warmer and more embracing than Arpege. It's probably not what Mademoiselle had in mind, considering she didn't have a very soft and fuzzy personality.

To my nose, Arpege feels a bit more formal. It's drier, and lacks any sunny quality despite all the flower notes that were blended into the heart. It feels almost prim and proper until something winks from deep in the drydown and makes it more interesting. I smell wood, vetiver and at times I could swear there's oakmoss somewhere in the composition, though I can't confirm it. Now it's official: I like Arpege. A lot.

Arpege in its current formulation is available as an EDP from every online discounter and usually for less than $40. Some department stores still have it, too. The vintage can be easily found on eBay and second hand stores, though I'd recommend caution with the extrait de parfum, as it seems to turn easily and I've come across quite a few rancid bottles.

Vintage Arpege perfume ads (1959 and 1963) from adclassix.com
Photographs of Lanvin dresses (1951 and 1954) from dovima_is_devine on Flickr.

Lanvin Rumeur (Original 1934 Version)- The Lost Perfumes

It took me time and experiencing different concentrations (and probably different vintages) to figure out what was going on with Rumeur by Lanvin. I could tell it's a chypre (sometimes it feels like just about any scent from that era was a chypre, probably because of the oakmoss and patchouli abundance), and a dirty one, but it smells so full and layered I had a hard time getting an olfactory picture in my head.

Just to make this clear: I'm not talking about the 2006 chemical fruit dreck or any of its flankers, but of the original perfume which was created by Andre Fraysse and launched in 1934 and discontinued at some point in the 70s.

Some of the old bottles and samples I've smelled were a bit off at the top, but from the one I currently own, I'd go out on a limb and say there were some aldehydes involved. What I get now is spice. Clove? Cardamom? The former, most likely, because the floral heart calls to mind a carnation, if a bit abstract. The scent is warm, woody and fuzzy, but it quickly becomes this classic, womanly scent, the idea of what a grand perfume for a grand lady should be. Well-furnished, shaded rooms in which mysterious ladies talk in hushed voices (it's probably just my imagination and watching too many Clark Gable movies, after all, both my grandmas were little girls back then and Eastern Europe was not exactly Paris). Many chypres have a certain formality, as does Rumeur, but it also has such a heavy base that throws me off a bit. A hint of leather, but also something furry and animalic. Maybe it's a musk, the kind you no longer find in modern perfumes, but there's also some similarity to the warm fruity thickness I smell in CB Musk Reinvention and MKK, so I'm thinking civet.

Note interpretation aside, Rumeur is beautiful. I wear it like a costume at times, mostly around the house, but occasionally on a night out, the way it was meant to be worn.

photos of 1934 fashion from myvintagevogue.com

The Lost (And Totally Forgotten) Perfumes: Via Lanvin

Since the house of Lanvin is desecrating the memory of its founder, Jeanne Lanvin, by launching a pink fruity floral (blackberry, citruses, pear, peony, freesia, raspberry, sandalwood, amber and musk) and naming it after her*, I thought it was a good time to remember a discontinued perfume from this house, even if it's one that was created years after Madame Lanvin's death: Via Lanvin.

Via Lanvin was launched in 1971 and discontinued in 1984 (according to Basenotes). The 70s, to me, are the years of Charlie (1973), an assertive green-floral-powder little thing that took over the world. There was a point in that decade that the only way not to have a bottle was to be Amish. That was the reality and the market in which Via had to compete. It's also a powdery green floral, but it feels soft and very French. I couldn't find a Lanvin ad for Via (maybe it was the lack of marketing that killed this perfume), but I'm pretty sure it couldn't have been promoted by photos of women in pantsuits or a woman patting a male co-worker's butt. It's not that kind of scent.

I scored a sealed set of Via EdT and parfum. The first time I opened and tried it, it smelled quite fresh, other than a few seconds of stale aldehydes. I liked the elegant greens and the sweetness that followed. The floral heart feels very classic, which is probably what I recognize as "French": LotV, jasmine, orris and rose seemed to be everywhere. I think I like wearing Via because of the carnation note. Carnation and I seem to do well together.

My favorite part is the drydown. There's a moment where the vetiver emerges, and it's dry and fiery, almost smokey. It's more pronounced in the EdT, while the parfum is smoother and a bit muted. I wish there was more of this note before it burns into sweet powder. I also wish the lasting power was more impressive. As it is, I need to bathe in the juice to make it live long enough so I can fully enjoy it.

From the 1984 H&R Fragrance Guide, Feminine Notes:
Via Lanvin (1971) - Sweet Floral
Top Note: leafy green, bergamot, aldehyde, violet, lemon - green flowery
Mid note: lily of the valley, jasmine, orris, carnation, rose, ylang-ylang, narcissus - green floral
Base note: vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, musk, amber, moss - woody powdery

* Robin of NST is quoting a CosmeticsNews article, which originally stated that the house's brilliant designer, Alber Elbaz, was deeply involved in the perfume's creation. Allow me to doubt that.

I bought the set on eBay for less than a song. Bottles of both the EdT and the parfum can still be found there on occasion. Some e-tailers who specialize in rare perfumes offer a 0.25 oz of parfum for about $150. I don't think it's worth it, unless this is your long lost holy grail.

Image: http://www.toutenparfum.com/ . My set looks just like the one pictured.

The Lost Perfumes: My Sin by Lanvin

(I can't come up with a better title than the name of the perfume, created in 1924 by Madam Zed for the Lanvin fashion house and discontinued years ago)

I never met my maternal grandmother. She was a doctor, quite well-known in Vilnius of the 1950s and early 60s. She was probably equally famous for her looks as well as for the scandal of divorcing my high-powered attorney grandfather in 1955. Photos show an incredibly beautiful and stylish woman with dark hair and green eyes. My mom says the only thing sharper than my grandmother's tongue, was her fashion sense and knack for accessorizing. I only have one thing of hers, an amber necklace, made with half polished stones. It's bold and always makes a statement.

She had secrets, affairs and quite a bit of a temper. Her clothes were tailor-made from patterns and fabrics imported from Paris (not a simple task during those years in Communist Lithuania). she wore red lipstick and loved perfume (also smuggled from France). My mom says she didn't have one signature perfume, but always had several of the classics, like Chanel no. 5 and Arpege on her dresser.

I don't like Arpege, though I probably should give the vintage another chance. The Lanvin perfume that makes me think of my lost grandmother is My Sin. The unapologetic name of this fragrance fits the image in mind, as well as the scent itself.

I have a bottle of the vintage extrait, bought on eBay not only sealed, but also wrapped in the original paper. I was a little disappointed the first time I smelled the opening notes. The aldehydes were still fully there, unclouded by the years (my eternal thanks to whoever kept it so well stored), together with the other notes, giving it that almost-generic vintage classic air. But I kept wearing it, studying the development and learning to appreciate its secret.

The opening and the classic floral middle notes still give me a similar feeling like some vintage Guerlains (other than Shalimar. That one starts bellydancing as soon as I put it on) and vintage Calèche, and I almost reach for my pearls. But just almost. It doesn't take long before My Sin moves into the more interesting parts. The base notes are supposedly vetiver, vanilla, musk, woods, tolu balsam, styrax (according to Wikipedia that's benzoin, which is a great relief as I willing to swear I was smelling benzoin) and civet. I can't say I get any vetiver here. Actually, the fragrance is so well blended (other that or my bottle is just old), that other than benzoin no note really stands out to me. It just morphs into a stunning animalic stage, light years away from the pearl and cashmere of the opening, with only a hint of understated sweetness. After a while it settles very close to the skin, a ghost of past sins and memories.

I wish it lasted longer than the 2-3 hours I'm getting from it, because I'd like to explore it and have a little more fun. Every time I put it on, I discover another facet, but still I feel like I'm missing on some big secret that feel forever lost.

Images: Okadi.com, eBay and Ad Vault.