Spray a rose scent and you think of roses. A jasmine scent, and you think of jasmine blossom. The representations may be better or worse β you may smell a rose perfume and think: this smells nothing like real roses β but they are imitations even so, however pale.
The genius of Chanel No. Chanel No. Jicky by Guerlain β with notes of lavender, civet, vanilla and herbs β has been in continuous production since But Chanel No.
Alone among fragrances known to me, it gives the irresistible impression of a smooth, continuously curved, gold-coloured volume that stretches deliciously, like a sleepy panther, from top note to drydown.
Yes, it contains rose, jasmine and aldehydes in the same way that a perfect body contains legs and arms. But I defy all who smell this to keep enough wits about them to worry about the parts.
Before Coco Chanel, as Edmonde Charles-Roux writes in her biography, women and men who wore perfume were generally forced to choose between various floral concoctions β heliotrope, gardenia, violets β none of which lasted well. You might arrive at a party reeking of lily of the valley and leave it reeking of sweat. On a woman, a natural flower scent smells artificial. Perhaps a natural perfume must be created artificially.
