Scentzilla!

Today I join with a few of my fellow fragrance bloggers to rhapsodize about our favorite picks to wear during the fall season. Mine are numbered, but in no particular order, really. And I realize with a little surprise that my faves have changed very little from year to year. Maybe it’s because there’s so much in the way of new releases nowadays that keeping track of anything but mostly the old favorites just seems silly. Or maybe it’s a dismal reflection upon the less than memorable quality of far too many of them. Or maybe I’m a sad little creature of habit: Given the obsessive-compulsive aspect of perfume collecting, that last excuse is the most likely of the three.

Please visit my blogging buddies over at Aromascope, Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This, Perfume Posse, and Perfume Smellin’ Things for some great lists, too!

1.) Jean Desprez - Bal a Versailles

“My favorite aspect of Bal a Versailles is its circular quality. As the fragrance develops, notes seem to fade off, only to rise again. To experience it is to open a travel brochure of smells. Roses, orange, orange blossom, and jasmine fill my nostrils with the first spray. Then warm woods with soft balsalmic spices push forward into vanilla and patchouli . Broad notations of amber and incense, musk and more musk, unfold. And then we start all over again, surreally spiraling amongst the flowers and trees, riding waves of indoles and ketones. It is sexy, but not vulgar; Rich, but not gaudy.”

2.) Jacques Fath - Fath de Fath 1993

The Fath de Fath reformulated by Haarmann and Reimer and relaunched by a revitalized Fath house in 1993 only shares but the slightest connection to its earlier 1953 incarnation. Perhaps it’s not its equal, but it’s still very, very good. Fath de Fath ‘93 smells of grand entrances down gilded opera house staircases. Berry-stained citrus top notes color a thick array of pale though never timid floral heart notes, including jasmine, orange blossom, and tuberose. The fruity-floral notes curve gracefully around a heady mix of powdery musk, woody amber, patchouli and vanillic base notes, lending the impression that grace is not achieved by lightness of step but with a deft understanding of gravity.

3.) Lanvin - Arpege

Happily, the more popular a scent was in the past the more readily bottles of it can be unearthed. Even more happily, the popularity of fragrances from the past is not necessarily a negative indication of its quality; Popular does not always have to mean middlebrow. Arpege deserved and still deserves its success. I don’t even think you have to be “rose lover” to dig into its layers of meaning. A flash of aldehydes at the quick could certainly be off-putting to those who cringe at anything that tugs at notions of “old lady perfume,” but they subside into harmonies of rose into jasmine into tuberose, which draws you down further into the satisfyingly low thump of its leathery base.

4.) Lancome - Magie Noire

“The secret to this fragrance for me is how it mutates its not unusual notes. Lichen wears as spice. Rose and galbanum become gold. Wood presents as though it were curing itself on the skin. Patchouli leaves flutter loose from the folds, hinting at trunks of woven treasures from imaginary adventures. Magie Noire is sometimes referred to as an amber oriental. This is not a cold butter amber, nor an incense amber. It’s amber that echoes some distant animal shriek. The echo bounces across the floral, green, and wood notes - never landing, never stopping, just fading off as it repeats itself.”

5.) Givenchy - Organza Indecence

This is the fragrance that makes me careen flat over in a lovestruck Tex Avery-style thud. Luckily, its benzoin pillows make for a soft landing, blanketed with cinnamon, cedar and palisander notes that pull over my head as I drift deeper into a swoon. Love may be patient, and love may be kind, but above all these, love smells a lot like Organza Indecence.

6.) Helmut Lang - Cuiron

“Helmut Lang’s Cuiron paints a portrait in monochrome. It is comprised of successive layers of leather. But not any old leather. Or rather, it IS old leather - the smell of an antique book pulled off the shelf, an old black jacket hanging off the back of a chair, a soft suede purse that’s only pulled out on special occasions, a well-worn chair that’s seen better days but is still the comfiest one in the house.”

7.) Les Nez - Let Me Play the Lion

I’ve struggled with this one for months and months, and still do. It resonates so well with me that I can’t decide if its because it just happens to hit all the right notes with me personally, or if it really is a sneaky little charmer. A list of adjectives seems a subpar way to describe it, but “dry smokey woody deliciousness” sums this fragrance up so concisely that there’s no excuse for purpling up the reason to enjoy it.

8.) Esteban - Teck and Tonka candle

“Is it ridiculously spendy for a candle? Yes, yes it is. It is worth it? Yes, hell yes. […] This is the sort of fragrance that a sophisiticate would describe as aphrodisiacal. I’m not sophisticated: It’s humpy. And it definitely sets a mood.”

9.) Guerlain - Mitsouko

“Mitsouko parfum is one the best things I have ever smelled. There’s just something about it that melds intrinsically to my skin, and it is hard to tell where I begin and Mitsouko’s sensual chypre ends […] Mitsouko is in such good taste that it is a whenever the hell you feel like it choice. You can smell opera gloves and elegance. But you can also smell a picnic barbeque in it - the sunshine, the grill in action, and paper plates with hot dogs and potato chips. Mitsouko fits in everywhere.”

10.) Lola Cosmetics - Lola perfume oil

“There’s really no polite way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it: Lola fragrance oil is sex. Some scents are flirty, some are sensual, some are sexy. This is S-E-X. In a bottle […] This is the smell I would have if I happened to be a nymph who’d gone for a romp in the woods with Pan. Animal-like, earthy and sweetly piquant, it doesn’t smell directly of Pan himself, but rather more that I’d been unmistakably in his prescence, raunching it up gaily.”

Firstly, I have to share my excitement about the Valentine’s Day present I picked out for my husband. I wanted to get him something different, something new: a gift he’d never received before. He is in for the surprise of his life this year.

On February 14th, I’m going to give him The Clap!

However, if gonorrhea isn’t really your cup of tea but you’d still like to surprise that someone special in your life, nothing would bring a bigger smile to your Valentine’s face than discovering you shared a little syphilis with them. It’s so cuddly!

You give it with the confident knowledge that from now on, whenever they think of syphilis they’ll think of you…

… and Valentine’s Day. Or, as I like to call it,

V-D.

Moving along, then.

Snow, glorious snow. It’s both wonderful and disturbing in its quantity this year. The most recent rash of snowstorms dumped enough for us to really have some fun it it.

Not Fred, though. Oh no.

When he was younger, you couldn’t keep him out of the stuff. The last time we got great fluffy piles of it like this, he was only about 1 1/2 years old. He romped and frolicked in it with gleeful abandon. It took me, my parents, my sister and a neighbor kid to finally corral and contain him, and jerk him back indoors. (Yes, five of us. That’s one human to every 2 pounds of renegade dachshund.)

Now he’s old and cranky, and he was mightily pissed off at me for letting his yard become a crystalized wasteland. He did some of his, uh, business outside (and snorting indignantly about it the whole time) then ran mere inches back inside the door to piddle on the carpet. Bladder of RAGE!

It’s said* that Hell hath no furry like a wiener dog scorned.

He immedietly padded over to the cupboard for a cookie since he knew he deservered one. For his tribulations, you understand. A dog will forgive a great many things, but never, under any circumstance, should you be absolved of the sin for making him cold and wet. Chop off his balls, and he’ll gratefully curl into your lap on the way home from the vet. But cold plus wet? Forget about it. He’ll hate you until the spring thaw.
Onto actual perfume topics. Finally, right?

In this unusual cold, I’ve been wearing L’Instant Eau de Noel Iris Millesime for the past couple days.

The last time I tried L’Instant Noel was during more temperate temperatures, and it didn’t really work as well on me then. The base, specifically the vanillic element, encroached too deeply into the balance in the warmer weather. I liked it, just not enough to commit to a full bottle. Now that it’s this freaking cold, I can see why folks snapped it up like so many imaginary hotcakes.

The cool earthy tones of orris (iris) seem to reflect against the white winter chill well. Orbiting the featured orris are satellites of white floral notes that include jasmine, ylang, and magnolia. The base acts rather like a jewelry setting: It’s lovely and decorative, but ultimately shows off the sparkle of the showcase notes. Ambery wood and vanilla provide a steady static background for these notes to best shimmer and glow.

L’Instant smells of secret invisible winter blooms. The spring appears less distant; One only needs a spritz to figuratively coax hibernating iris bulbs to break through the frozen earth and remind oneself that the trees are only napping.

The staying power is ridiculously good on my skin. I share a single spritz between wrists and it lasts pretty much all day. However, most fragrances with a tangible vanilla note tend to stick like glue on me, so if anyone’s experience is otherwise, do share please.

(My other standby snow perfume, apparently, is Comme des Garcon Man 2, which positively sings more and more brilliantly the colder it gets. What an underrated, unusual gem it is on the “masculine” side of the fragrance counter.)

I have also been trying Jacques Fath’s Chasuble off and on for the past couple months. Or so. It took over six months to work up the nerve to crack open the still sealed bottle I found. Why would anyone have such goofy pangs of anxiety over than? Well, I’d been longing to try it for ages, and once I finally had it I was intimidated. What if I never find another bottle again? What if it was ruined? What if it was brilliant?

I’m both thrilled and sad to say that it is not ruined, and it is indeed brilliant.

I kept finding new little turns to it to appreciate, and can’t figure out what to say about it that will fully explain it. So, I’ll do what I always do, and empty out the cluttered junk drawer that is my brain. (There’s a lot of stuff in a junk drawer, but 99% of it isn’t really needed for anything in particular.)

I peg Chasuble as a wonderfully rich incense fragrance. On the top is a brief aromatic balsamic flash of mentholic pine that only slowly dims as the heat of skin warms the composition. The incense at its very core displays as unlit resin turned liquid over the middle period of wear. A peachy thread also runs through the heart, though it doesn’t disturb the incense. Rather, it filters in a brightly colored light across it. The peachy allusions quietly stream down as it dries, until it’s transmogrified into a different fruit altogether, reminding me of a cedar-plank baked yellow apple. The fruity element here is delicately laced into the other notes. On the drydown, rich woody and ambery vanillic notes emerge, and the incense finally feels lit, taking a slightly smokey turn. Chasuble wears as if in deliberate and meaningful ceremony.

It is a heady, swoon-worthy oriental fragrance. And it is as close to a personal Holy Grail perfume as I’ve ever gotten thus far. Which seems fitting. A chasuble, of course, is the vestament a priest or holy man wears during religious services. Being a rather irreligious person myself, Chasuble strikes me as a perfume nut’s ideal substitution for sanctity, when worshipping at the alter of fragrant revelation.

*I said it. Just now. Therefore, it is said, right?

Upon the occasion of the infamous Neiman Marcus Christmas catalog’s listing of the collected archives of Jacques Fath, I figured a brief choppy history of the man and his house might be in order. Of course, I am sure I could do a much better job of it if anyone would like to loan me a spare $3.5 million dollars… I swear I can totally pay you back!

Jacques Fath

(September 6, 1912 - November 13, 1954)

Jacques Fath began his fashion house in a small two-roomed salon on Rue de la Boetie, presenting his first collection in 1937. He later moved in 1940 to Rue Francois Premier¹, and then in 1944 settled into a studio at 39 Avenue Pierre 1er de Serbie.

Fath took a number of young designers under his wing, though perhaps the best known of the assistants he hired were Hubert de Givenchy, Guy Laroche, and Valentino². He also drew upon the talents of shoe designer Andre Perugia³.

The Paris studio Fath operated was fortunate to remain open during the entirety of Nazi occupation during WWII. His relative occupation-era success, viewed in certain quarters as a direct result of cooperating with the Germans and kowtowing to Vichy pressures, has only recently entered the discourse in the past decade. His association with various Nazi-Vichy sympathizers and a comparatively wealthy German clientele during those years certainly tarnished his status as a designer amongst some modern critics. Much of the credit for this discussion can apparently be attributed to Vallerie Guillaume’s 1993 book Jacques Fath, which looks into the house’s history. (I am hoping someday I will get my grubby little hands on Guillaume’s book. The book is neither easy nor cheap to find in the States, but I would love to read it.) However, it is also due to a slow but growing willingness to examine the survival strategies of ALL those famous French houses, not only Fath’s.

The period of French design during Nazi control is rarely discussed widely, but merits mentioning for historical context. Parisian designers like Maggy Rouff (who some of you perfume-nuts may know by association with Paul Poiret of Parfums Rosine, who sold designs to her), Marcel Rochas, Nina Ricci and others, also somehow kept afloat. They perisisted, despite their houses being practically decimated by the time Paris was free again. This was not due to the various designers’ artistic, or in some cases moral, inflexibility. Lucien Lelong, for instance, was also affected by the Mode Martiale of WWII; He was one of the more prominent designers to have talks directly with the German textile and fashion officials⁵ in his capacity as the design community’s nominated leader. Amongst other things, Lelong successfully dissuaded them from relocating the Parisians to establish Berlin and Vienna as the premier fashion capitals, diminishing France’s preeminence in the industry. The bureaucratic Nazis micromanaged every conceivable facet of life during their take-over, and the fashion industry was granted no exceptions. Author Valerie Steele notes⁴,

“…the Vichy regime adopted a fashion discourse similar to that in Facist Italy and Nazi Germany, stressing nationalism and conservative social values. Fashion designers were encouraged to draw inspiration from regional or ‘folk’ costumes; Jacques Fath, for example, designed dresses inspired by peasant costume. Fashion magazines were also encouraged to extol the traditional Frenchwoman, as opposed to the cosmopolitan Parisienne.”

A number of German-demanded regulations were bootstrapped onto all French designers, right down to which fabrics and the lengths of those fabrics that could be used. (Hence, the shorter hemline came into vogue.) Even the dates of release for the meager Paris collections were dictated by the German government.⁵

Lelong, of course, shook off the perception that he may have been a collaborator, later being granted status as a hero (Croix de Guerre and the Legion of Honor) due to his leadership in working for France’s intrests. Perhaps in contrast, we might glance over at Coco Chanel. The Nazi sympathies of Coco Chanel are widely known, due to her literal sleeping with the enemy. Yet Chanel is one of the most recogizable names in fashion. Ask the average person about Lelong, Fath, or other contemporaries, and you will only receive an empty-eyed “who?” in response. Exemplary behavior during that time clearly hasn’t been a necessary condition for achieving renown. Opening up the whole subject for further evaluation will hopefully occur even more over the years to come: This period for designers is historically interesting, and a story that may prove interesting to readers outside of costuming and fashion study.

At war’s end, the liberated French designers celebrated with profound creative renewal, most notably in the inspiring “New Look.” Christian Dior is regularly credited with the genesis of the “New Look,” yet it is not hard to see the premonitions and seeds of this movement in Fath’s earlier designs. In fact, there was even a bit of feud between Fath and Dior. Magazines devoted coverage to it, splashing headlines such as “Dior Contre Fath” (pictured) across their feature pages. What interesting things might have eventually evolved out of this rivalry we will never know, as Fath died at the young age of 42, while Dior went on to acheive even greater heights of popularity.

Fath’s eagerness to break into the American market and his ambitious pursuit of that goal, may have also been cause for scorn amongst his Parisian peers. In 1948, the New York-based clothier Joseph Halpert contracted with Fath to design special ready-to-wear collections for sales in the American market. (One such Halpert collection is Fath’s 1950 Puritan collection, whose theme rather funnily, to me, fetishizes the “American” aesthete.) Many of the cuts of his clothing from this time emphasize a fitted form, accentuating thin waists and using lines that minimally curve with the body.

Fath most famously sold his designs in the US at Neiman Marcus, some apparel bearing labels of both the famous store’s name and the designer’s. Neiman Marcus went so far as to bestow him with an “Award for Distinguished Service in the Field of Fashion” in appreciation. Time magazine noted of the occasion⁶:

“Couturier Jacques Fath, in Dallas to accept a fashion prize from the Neiman-Marcus store, got all dressed up in native costume (Western-style plaid shirt by Jacques Fath, glass-studded white leather belt by Neiman-Marcus, blue denim britches by Sears, Roebuck). Concluding that the U.S. square dance is ‘wonderful, wonderful,’ he announced that Paris would hear of the sport just as soon as he got home.”

His work soon became especially popular with the American women, and celebrites including Jacqueline Kennedy, Josephine Baker, and Rita Hayworth all wore his designs. He even designed Rita Hayworth’s wedding dress for the occasion of her marriage to Aly Khan in 1949. Additionally, his costume design for the Hollywood film The Red Shoes is quite well known, though he did contribute to a few others. His dress patterns through Vogue’s sewing pattern company also sold rather well to average women who enjoyed his style but couldn’t afford anything from his lines.

In 1939 he married Genevieve Boucher de la Bruyere, a celebrated “mannequin” and former secretary to Coco Chanel. The couple had one child, Philippe, born in 1943⁷. (Phillipe in turn had two children⁸, however the rights to the name have long been sold off, and I don’t believe they have any involvement with their grandfather’s house.) After Jacques died, the house briefly carried on for a few years under Mme. Fath’s direction until 1957. A number of the designs released under Genevieve’s time are as appealing as those M. Fath himself put out. The photo book Stella, about a frequent Fath mannequin named Stella Maret, demonstrates a fantastic range of designs issued in the years following M. Fath’s death. Genevieve was instrumental not only in keeping the name alive, but also in terms of creative input to her husband during his lifetime. What I find most touching about Fath’s story is not his beautiful clothing, or even his perfumes… it is this lovely woman, who had smarts behind her beauty. It is her influence which shaped many of his collections and the photography showing off his designs. She was a remarkable source of inspiration, but sometimes remained hidden behind the title of “wife.”

Fath himself was less than generous towards the female gender as a whole. He had notably declared⁹, “Women are bad fashion designers. The only role a woman should have in fashion is wearing clothes,” and “Fashion is an art and men are the artists.”

Jacques Fath was a flawed, imperfect man, but one with impeccable taste and talent. If we go rooting around into his contemporaries’ lives, I feel we’d come to much the same conclusions about them. But to whitewash is to render a subject dimensionless, and Fath deserves more than a flat treatment. And better than my pitifully edited summary, too.

The following is a complete list of perfumes made under the Jacques Fath label, some with brief olfactory information.

Perfumes released by Fath during his lifetime:

1945: Chasuble, floral woody oriental
1946: Iris Gris, floral fruity woody: perfumer Vincent Roubert
1950: Canasta, fruity chypre: not sure, but has perfumer Vincent Roubert’s fingerprints all over it
1953: Fath de Fath, floral woody and musky oriental
1953: Green Water, green aromatic citrus woody (for men): perfumer Vincent Roubert

Perfumes released under the Fath name after it was licensed to L’oreal:

1968: Fath’s Love, sparkling tuberose floral
1972: Ellipse
1977: Expression, floriental chypre

Perfumes, released and/or reforumulated & re-released, as the house experienced a revival in the 90s include:

1994: Fath de Fath, remade as fruity floriental with strong vanillic emphasis by perfumers Haarmann and Reimer¹⁰
1996: Eau de Fath¹¹
1998: Pour L’Homme (sometimes called simply “Jacques Fath”), fresh floriental (for men)
1999: Yin, fresh floriental
1999: Yang, green woody oriental (for men)

1. Elements of Fashion and Style, p.115, by G.J. Sumathi
2. Time, Feb. 5, 2003, “Is There A Future In Fashion’s Past?”
3. http://www.historyofashion.com/historyofashion/shoeperugia.html
4. Fifty Years of Fashion: New Look to Now, p.9, by Valerie Steele
5. Fashion Under the Occupation, various including appendix, by Miriam Kochan and Dominique Veillon
6. Time Magazine, 19 September, 1949, notes
7. Paris Match, 18 March, 1950
8. fashionfinds.com, site now defunct
9. Women Designers in the USA 1900 to 2000: Diversity and Difference, p. 194, by Pat Kirkham
10. New Perfume Handbook, p. 166, by Nigel Groom
11. Years of release for Eau de Fath through Yang via Basenotes.net.

UPDATE: There’s a great little short film showing off Fath clothing from 1956 on You Tube… just wonderful! For some reason I am having trouble embedding it today, so here’s a link to the You Tube page: Jacques Fath 1956

Iris Gris* was released in 1946/47, and per Bois de Jasmin is credited to Vincent Roubert. Roubert also created Green Water for Jacques Fath. (Additionally, he’s credited on work with and/or for Francois Coty, such as A Suma, L’Aimant, L’Or, and Vertige.)
I’m not sure which perfumer is responsible for another Fath fragrance from the era, called Canasta, but I have to wonder if he didn’t have something to do with it as well - there’s something in the feel of Iris Gris that reminds me of Canasta. (Some sort of fruit up against a wall kind of thing. Sweet but not light.)

I believe my poor little parfum of Iris Gris has likely lost most of its top notes, so do take that into account when reading this, please.

Iris Gris exercises strange contrasts. The cool dusk-steaked earthiness of orris washes over me just as I get accostomed to Iris Gris’ warm orangey fruitiness. I can’t help but notice a note that I characterize as the smell of my father’s grapevines after he’s finished harvesting. Walking by his vines you smell an abundance of green leaves hanging off the dry woody vines, with just a few half mutilated grapes left for the birds to peck at and consume.
It is a crisp note, whereas the rest of the perfume comes in slow curving waves. Hard and rather dark woods exist as shadows under surprisingly soft folds of what smells animalic (civet, musk?), lending Iris Gris a pleated texture. I sniff something that smells almost caramelized in the mix, too. What sticks at the very end to my skin is like the smell of scotch cross-breeded with the taste of a dessert wine. Rather unusual, I think.

I am piqued by a small detail of information on the bottom of the box. It lists it as “No. 22;” My box of Fath de Fath lists it as “No. 58.” I can only wonder at all the numbers in between, and what they must have been like! On the back a line of text informs me “Box Made in France,” which makes me giggle. Guess it must have been pretty important for folks back then - gotta know if that box is domestic or import, heh.

Alas, I have yet to find any old print ads for Iris Gris - there must have been some, but they appear to be as hard to find as Iris Gris itself. I like looking at older perfume ads in general, however I’d especially enjoy seeing the visual depictions Fath chose for this scent.

Jacques Fath was quite a character, who loved hobnobbing with Hollywood stars and attending dinners and wild parties with those famous faces of the movie-making city. Yet his designs seem characterized with a certain restraint. They all seem so wearable, and it is not hard to picture yourself in any of his outfits. Even the more wild ones seem doable. I suspect this quality earned him a fair share of scorn back in the day from his contemporaries, but it is what I admire most about them.

They are beautiful creations that are actually meant to be worn, rather than simply admired. Oh, and his suits! They are pehaps the best thing he made, and I cannot help but prefer them to, say, the slightly more foofy suits that Dior was making around the same period. Fath’s smart form-fitting suits credit the woman who wears them for having sensibility and intelligence. This is not to say others’ from the era aren’t also lovely, of course, but I don’t find them quite as appealing.

One fun find from the era (I love you Internet!) is a brief promotional film from Amsterdam about Fath clothing from 1955. I don’t understand a word of the Dutch language, but I do enjoy seeing the models move about in his clothes. If you have Real Player installed on your computer, you may click here to watch, or please go to this site and scroll down the right hand sidebar to choose the Windows Media Player format. The same site also has promo films from other designers you might enjoy as well, so take a gander if interesed.

I find it a shock that there is but one book available about his designs in English, and no biographical works. Out of all the countries he sold clothing in, it was the English speaking United States where he found the most success. Someone needs to write this book. Uh, not me, though, heh. I would, but I have neither the training nor the resources, obviously. The book covering his designs is rare, and I’ve yet to stumble across a copy even in Portland, which a city that takes books seriously.

If you wish to read a little about him, click here for a short bio and details of his work on the movie The Red Shoes, or click here for another brief bio.

*According to Nigel Groom in his book, The New Perfume Handbook (2nd ed. 1997), Iris Gris was not Fath’s first forray into perfume. He cites one called Chasuble from 1945. If anyone reading this has seen or smelled Chasuble, or has inklings of what it might be like, please share. I would appreciate it so much! Also, he writes 1946 as the year of release for Iris Gris, yet other citations I’ve seen list 1947. I’m not sure which is correct.

Images: Top, still from 1948, source forgotten as I’ve had it on my computer forever (sorry!), and the second entitled Duet by Sherry Casper from Beppu Gallery. Third image is of a proof released to the Associated Press in 1950 announcing Fath’s as an “exponent” of “The Puritan Look,” and fourth is of Tiger Lily from Disney’s Peter Pan. Fifth image is a still from a 1955 campaign Cadillac ran utilizing the stylish image in the States of Jacques Fath’s house, and sixth image is called Tiger Lily Bud by Laura Ingraham from postershop.com. Seventh image is a photo by Herve Bruhat contracted for in 1992 to celebrate the Jacques Fath house from hervebruhat.com, and eighth is a photo by Jerry Uelsmann, title unknown, and source forgotton because I unfortunately have also had it on my computer for forever.

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.