Jet Corday Ida’s bottle 1950-60

Dear readers: once again, I’ve chosen a luscious vintage fragrance about which I can find very little information! It’s not deliberate, I assure you. I had recently experienced a hankering for one of those perfumes which remained a mystery from early childhood – a forbidden one, as it so happens. Jet Corday was a perfume which my mother kept locked away, out of reach and out of sight – but that didn’t prevent me from becoming obsessed with it. Now I get to share my obsession with you…

1941 poster with Corday perfumes by Vladimir Bobri 

The House of Corday is probably underappreciated; it’s not by dint of mediocrity, though. Its founder (and credited perfumer) Blanche Arvoy, had created the Jovoy brand in 1923, and in 1924 she launched her second perfumed venture, named the House of Corday after the infamous historical figure Charlotte Corday (yes, the selfsame assassin of radical Jacobin Jean-Paul Marat, an influential leader during France’s Reign of Terror). In 1961 Max Factor bought out the company, and the 60s witnessed its eventual decline.

After that, Dana assumed the helm and released a significantly altered version of their beautiful Toujours Moi in 1995; it was available in drugstores for a song, and is still available in both iterations (the vintage, online; the newer version may still be found in some drugstores and through retailers). Sadly, Jet Corday did not experience any variety of Renaissance. It is thought that, unlike older brands such as Guerlain and Caron, there simply wasn’t enough historical presence and/or advertising/interest to keep the House of Corday afloat.

Jet Corday Ida’s bottle 1950-1960

 So, how did I come to fall under Jet’s spell? Well, children love anything secret and/or forbidden; that’s a fact – and I confess to having been a very-inquisitive-bordering-on-naughty child. Next to my room, and across the hall from my parents’ bedroom, was a closet in which my mother stored all the things she feared might run out one day: toilet paper, Ivory soap, shampoo. People who had lived through WWII continued to fret that they might not be able to keep themselves properly clean, should societal circumstances change – and this practice of stocking up on such supplies was very common. My mother kept this closet locked because I used to climb up onto a chair in the middle of the night and play with its contents, while the rest of the household slept. She placed a hook-and-eye latch high up, where she was certain I couldn’t reach. She was wrong.

In this closet, my mother hid a simple rectangular glass flacon with a black stopper; the label read “Jet Corday”. It wasn’t as if she didn’t keep perfume out on her dressing table: Lanvin Arpège was always within easy reach, as was her other go-to fragrance, Le Galion Sortilège. Jet was another story altogether. Apparently, Estelle must have wedged the stopper in too tightly, because it couldn’t be pried open, no matter what – and believe me, I tried. The baudruchage (a membrane of animal origin in the 1950s – the vintage of this perfume – which seals the neck of a perfume bottle) had been violated, and the metallic string was still wrapped around the neck of the flacon – although it appeared to have been worried and worn. The only hint of its contents was the smallest amount of errant perfume clinging to the film, which I smelt over and over again in frustration. It was utterly intoxicating – and clearly, neither my mother nor I would ever have access to the jus within.

That is, until my recent exploration into vintage Corday perfumes led me to an old flacon of Jet Corday.

As a born storyteller descended from a long line of Eastern European storytellers, I long for fragrances which evolve and regale me with their journeys; I want to lose myself, yield myself up to a power greater than any of us. Jet is one such a creation: masterful, enigmatic, and deathless.

vintage1941 poster by Vladimir Bobri (Please see Ida’s note at end of article)

What a jus! If distilled down to its essence in one word, Jet Corday was Opulent. If Arpège and Sortilège were gloriously aldehydic (and just a tad ladylike), Jet was wildly sensual and animalic: spicy, leathery, floral, and earthy. The perfume of goddesses. It was dangerous, in the very best possible fashion. I may have been an ungainly, skinny four year old tomboy dressed in my older brother’s castoff T shirts and overalls – but I dreamed of being the sort of woman who smelled like Jet. It never occurred to me that my current and future selves seemed irreconcilable. More than anything, I wanted to emanate desire and mystery, trapping unsuspecting souls in my wake.

The 1 oz. Flacon I acquired, although sealed – evinces a little evaporation, but it hasn’t affected the beauty of this fragrant rara avis. The aldehydes remain pristine – and the top notes of bergamot, coriander, cinnamon, and cloves are bright and alluring. Like many fragrances of this era, a delightful peach note is present, and can be experienced throughout Jet’s development. The floral heart is comprised of the herbal/floral tones of lavender and anise, which are paired with powdery orris and exquisite jasmine and rose. You simply want to smell the dabs over and over again; once is not sufficient. All this, ensconced in the sort of leathery chypre base which includes vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, oakmoss, myrrh, amber, and leather: nothing is missing, it’s complete, seductive, and satisfying. My bottle hails from the 1950s-60s, but its lasting power is marvelous as it develops over time: pure, unadulterated luxury. It was worth every single sou.

In my own naïveté (or perhaps, unequivocal stubbornness), I believe that it would be a good thing if some of our very gifted perfumers were to present us with the sort of beauty which Jet Corday (and perfumes like it) possesses. Elegance, volupté, and quality never go out of style. Make no mistake: I truly cherish and appreciate current efforts and rising creatives – but there is also room for the complex art of seduction as well.

Notes: aldehydes, bergamot, peach, lavender, anise, orris, jasmine, rose, coriander, cloves, cinnamon, vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, amber, oakmoss, myrrh, leather.

The perfume reviewed was purchased by me. My nose is my own…

(Fragrance Vault has a selection of Corday perfumes)

~ Ida Meister, Deputy and Natural Perfumery Editor

N.B. – The advertisements which Corday utilized in the 1940s are the work of Ukrainian illustrator Vladimir Bobri. I believe that their intention was to evoke an exoticism which many equated with more dark-complected nations – which explains why today’s public may find them highly controversial.  My intention is to provide our readers with authentic posters from this era.

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