Jacques Fath Fath de Fath, cologne vintage 1953
I once read a remark made by the guitarist Steve Vai (Frank Zappa) that he wanted to make music so good that the listener would want to crawl inside their speakers and BE the music. That? Is Fath de Fath, the original. I want to squeeze through this bottle’s tiny aperture and become it.
Now I like the ‘93 relaunch version, but it is a whole ‘nother creation, and not at all like its predecessor that was first introduced in 1953. I suspect at some point I’ll get around to posting a review of the ‘93 version, too.
Fath de Fath as originally formulated is a green chypre. Even with my time-faded cologne I can feel moss growing inside the bottle. I sense lichen, ferns, and verdant life springing up in the small spaces of a shady forest. My husband’s first comment when I wore this was “Honey, you smell like rocks today.” It was a compliment, believe it or not. Moss grows most noticably in the Pacific Northwest along the rocks and trees.
At the base is something quite skankily animal. I suspect it’d be appalling as an isolated note, but it resolutely feeds into my sensation that Fath de Fath’s power stems from its insistence at life. (As a vegetarian, I’m choosing to remain blissfully ignorant of its exact source.) There may also be a leather note in here, but I feel unsure, since it smells only very faintly tannic. Way down towards the end, I get the kind of amber-y note that always reminds me of a cross between soap and cold butter. The effect is both earthy and elegant.
I dab this scent on, and I imagine myself travelling back through time as a “lady who lunches,” wearing smart-looking fitted Fath suits, and always engaging in witty Hepburn-Tracy style conversations. I have an overactive imagination, clearly.
I so wish I could obtain the parfum - I can’t imagine how rich it must be. But alas, even the full miniatures of the vintage fragrance are well beyond my means. My wallet actually jumps up out of my purse and runs shrieking from the house when I even briefly ponder a bottle of it. The 1 3/4 ounces of cologne was a lucky find, and bless you wonderful eBay members who are responsible sellers, but just as terrible at typing as I am (Jacques FaRth.)
One of the more unusual items housed at the Maryhill Museum (see Wednesday post for more) is Le Theatre de la Mode. The exhibition of fashion mannequins on stage sets was initiated shortly after WWII, to remind the world that despite the horror and hardship of the war, Paris was still the fashion capital of the world. An impressive array of designers contributed to make clothes for the miniature mannequins: Gres, Dior, Balenciaga, Lelong, and of course, Fath. One of the most eerie background sets for the display was created by Jean Cocteau. The first time a friend and I saw this exhibition, we giggled. It seemed a little silly to make such a fuss over what essentially looked like glorified Barbie clothes to us. However, reading the literature for the display impressed upon us the importantance it must have held for artists living in such a shell-shocked country. Richard Ricci, son of Nina Ricci, was the one who came up with the idea for the Theatre, and he conceived it as a creative way to help raise money for charity to pull the country back together.
Additionally, I never skip peeking into the closet at Maryhill that contains death masks. To be specific, I always take a gander at Napoleon’s. Seeing his death mask suddenly makes him seem so puny, so delicate, so… human. There’s also a nice selection of Russian Orthodox icons, and a small display of Queen Marie’s donations of artifacts from the last Romanov to rule Russia, Nicholas II.
For a brief online bio of Jacques Fath: Click here.