Scentzilla!

Half the fun with some vintage fragrances is trying to figure out the provenance of inspiration behind them. The other half being to play the Name That Tune game with the notes. Gin Fizz is another older (and discontinued) Lubin, released in 1955, credited to perfumer Henri Giboulet (via Now Smell This.) The Lubin I previously reviewed, Nuit de Longchamp, felt dark and mysterious, whereas Gin Fizz is filled with joy and brightness.

Gin Fizz initially threw me. Whence goes the “gin” in “Gin Fizz?” It’s not really there. Nor is there even a hint of juniper berries.

However.

This isn’t a literal translation of a gin fizz drink. Nor is it plain ol’ gin fizz. When I realized it’s almost certainly a perfumer’s impression of a Ramos gin fizz, all was illuminated.

Citrus bursts off the top, lemonic mostly, but at turns I could swear I find trace whiffs of Rose’s Sweetened Lime Juice and something vaguely orange-y. (”Orange-y” may very well be neroli, but for whatever reason I always identify it as orange-y rather than as itself.)

It doesn’t fizz with gin and soda water. Rather, it tickles the nose with the buzz of woody-musk carbonation. The fizz smooths into an unexpected cream cake of flowers and grass. Within the drydown lurks a distinct rose and wood accord. I could make neither heads nor tails of the rose until I found a recipe for Ramos gin fizz that calls for rose water in place of the more commonly called for orange flower water. Drops of vanilla at the very base of the fragrance round out this Lubin cocktail.

Wouldn’t it be marvelous to see Gin Fizz revamped and rereleased? With the gains made in technology since it was first released, and in the hands of the RIGHT perfumer, I think Lubin could really do a bang-up job of it. A gal can dream anyhow, can’t she?

Image was manipulated, taken from an old Polident newsprint ad from the 50s

Lubin introduced Nuit de Longchamp I believe in 1933. (Other sources give release years of ‘34 or ‘35, but ads for it appeared in publications as early as ‘33.) Nuit de Longchamp presumably takes its name from the premiere fête thrown in the evenings for the first races at the famous horse track, Hippodrome de Longchamp. An old program stated formal dress was required of ladies for portions of the evening. No mention of the gents though, which gave me a chuckle at all the possible satorial choices that could have been made, heh.

My bottle dates approximately from the late 40s or very early 50s. The flacon’s stopper would indicate to our modern eyes a skeleton key. However the shape is an ode to lanterns, in keeping with the racing theme.

The juice I have is nearly dead, but not quite. It still is able to whisper its message from the past, a ghost with a hoarse throat. (*Must fight urge to write that as a horse throat*)

The oakmossy chypre still conveys, with a floral bouquet and touch of green, bearing the sparkling sweetness of fruit. It’s rather like Peach Os, meaning there is “peach” but not any actual fruit. Some serious musk is wrapped around the fragrance, but who knows if this is due to age or if it is part of Nuit de Longchamp’s essential character. I perceive a bit of cedaric woodiness at the base, as well as what seems like a speck of spice? Dunno, it’s hard to tell one way or another. Sigh.

Ach! What self-torture! Sniffing at a raspy vintage perfume makes me pine to understand how it must have smelled when new. A certain “masculinity” of Nuit de Longchamp leads me to think it must have been quite distinctive in the day, especially because it was intended for women. This is the sort of perfume that can make a perfume-addict chase the dragon: buying bottle after bottle in search of the penultimate fix. Is there a twelve step for this phenomenon yet? I may need one…

Ad image from delcampe.be, however, one can view other ads from various time periods for Nuit de Longchamp over at Okadi.