The Fresh Scents of the 1970s Part 4: Eau de Guerlain

by: Elena Vosnaki

Could a piece of classical music be transcribed into a classic fragrance? I have noidea whether Jean Paul Guerlain was thinking of Vivaldi when he came upon the brilliant formula of Eau de Guerlain. But contrary to Stravinsky's put down on Vivaldi, fondly known as le maestro rosso (namely that he didn't write 500 concerti but the same concerto 500 times), Jean Paul is well known for the diversity of his opus.

 

Therefore continuing the exploration of fresh scents that marked the 1970s, after Part 1: YSL Eau Libre  Part 2: Eau de Rochas and Part 3: Sisley's Eau de Campagne  we come to a classic gem from that most classic of perfumery houses, Guerlain.

 

If anyone should do a proper cologne, apart from Farina and Roger & Gallet, that would be Guerlain. The house already boasted an impressive history of historical colognes made for royal patrons in the 19th century (Eau de Cologne Imperiale was made for Eugenie, wife of Napoleon II) and the more bourgeois customers of the early 20th century theater scene. The introduction of yet another brilliant Eau de Cologne in their collection as late as 1974 would be the culmination of an arc that lighted the skies for decades. Indeed of all the Guerlain colognes, Eau de Guerlain is perhaps the most satisfying, the most tenacious, and certainly the most chic. Because if chic is asserting one's independence and subtly illustrating one's smarts without showing off, then Eau de Guerlain does the job admirably for both men and women, young and old.

 

photo by shakko

 

What is the rare feat of appearing neither too "modernised", nor too "retro leaning"? Guerlain's talented maverick, Jean Paul, who was then robust and in full capacity of his creative abilities, siphoned another golden fizzy liquid into the glorious bottles that makes the stable of Guerlain such a feast for eyes and nose alike. The bottle, crowned with a golden stopper, was shaped like a rock pebble or had a yonic concaveness in the middle, whichever way you look at it. Wasn't it Jean Paul who had insisted that he put something of his mistress's nether regions in every fragrance that he made? The famed Robert Granai, original bottle designer, had received direction to create a bottle shaped like a river pebble; they must have been huge in the 1970s, judging by the design for Eau de Rochas (originally named "Eau de Roche")....

 

 

Eau de Guerlain later succumbed to the unification of older Guerlains, at least visually. The imperial bees now seal its buzzing summery song. 

 

The scent in Eau de Guerlain can be described as nothing short of melodious. If the eau de Cologne genre is by its very nature playing on the tonal differences between hesperidic and aromatic, one tangy and the other herbaceous and on occasion lightly medicinal (natural lavender does that), Eau de Guerlain takes these elements and transposes them with the heart-ache of a nightingale singing alongside a mockingbird. Or the sweet duet of mandolin and strings from Vivaldi's mandolin concerto in C major (RV425).

As with many colognes previouslyy explored in this series of articles, the touch of herbal accents is making the commonplace interesting. It is even more so in this one, an impression of cut leaves for the kitchen (possibly for some summery cordial) never leaving you as you go through the Eau de Toilette spray.

 

Basil, via the inclusion of spicy eugenol which steers the composition someplace between green leaves and carnations, is the necessary touch as is in other 70s scents that recall a quotidian naturalness.

 

The tinge of patchouli and moss give of course the necessary allusion to someplace where bushes are landscaped to mimic labyrinths, where magical minotaurs come in the shape of gigantic cultivars of European flowers.

 

But in Eau de Guerlain it's the richness of the tart top notes which makes the scent like no other. 

 

 

The cedrat (one of the 4 original hesperides from which all other varieties spawned through hybrid cultivation), the tree and the fruit that anglos call citron, is married to bergamot, a harmonious match made in heaven. But it is the lemon and the lemon-smelling verbena (common in Italian perfumery) which echoes their melody across the other tree from the orchard in the early morning. It gives an unmistakeable sweet sense of elation and despite the melancholic sigh, produces too much happiness. Eau de Guerlain is mellifluous in a "lungs filling up to bursting" way. If only I could bathe in it!

 

If you missed them, the previous parts can be found on these links:

 

The Fresh Scents of the 1970s