Lanvin Spanish Geranium from Ida’s collection
Some years ago, dear readers – the opportunity to purchase a 4 oz. flacon of Lanvin Spanish Geranium arose: it was full, unopened, in pristine condition (from a reputable seller whom I knew well). I still cannot believe the good fortune which enabled me to obtain this historic item. At this writing, I’ve been unable to locate any bottles available for sale online for many months now: soaps and talcum powder, yes – but no eau de toilette or the even-rarer limited edition Parfum. If the Spanish Geranium vintage advertisement up for sale from the Cary Collection is going for $2,250.00, I shudder to think what the asking price might be for the jus itself these days.
Like many of you, I love the Lanvins of yore. They possess an almost intimidating sophistication which belies the oft-sequestered eroticism underpinning most of their fragrances. We are talking about real civet, true ambergris, oakmoss, and sandalwood when it was nearly always from Mysore, the Golden Mean. Spanish Geranium was one of the few I hadn’t yet experienced, and everything about it called out to me.
vintage travel poster for Spain
Lanvin Spanish Geranium launched in Paris in 1925 under its original name Géranium d’Espagne – an evocative appellation designed to capture the imagination and conjure travel to sunny Spain. It was the height of the Jazz Age, The Roaring Twenties; an era of flux and great change. Prohibition was still in effect; Benito Mussolini had declared himself dictator of Italy; a Tennessee schoolteacher was arrested for teaching the theory of evolution, resulting in the infamous Monkey Trial. It was also the heyday of American and other expats in Paris: the famous American poet and mentor Gertrude Stein had established a salon where such luminaries as Picasso, Matisse, Modigliani, and Hemingway exchanged ideas. Society’s devil-may-care attitude could not have foreseen the looming Great Depression which was to follow 4 years hence.
Getty image of Joan Crawford
1925 happened to be an excellent year for perfume: Jean Patou’s Adieu Sagesse, Amour Amour and Que Sais-Je?, Knize Ten, Millot’s Crêpe de Chine, Красная Москва (aka Red Moscow), and Guerlain’s Shalimar were also released that year. With the exception of Shalimar, each of the afore-mentioned fragrances share the inclusion of carnation – which was a very popular spicy floral note during this period. Lanvin Spanish Geranium possesses a lively carnation note which adds its sizzle to this extraordinary perfume’s vibrant personality; actress Joan Crawford claimed that it was one of the fragrances she would never be without, and Ms. Crawford was certainly a woman to be reckoned with.
Pierre Redoute botanical print common use
Vogue, 1938: “Lanvin’s Heavenly Twins — the new Eau de Cologne and the lovely “Geranium d’Espagne.”
Lanvin Spanish Geranium is one of those scents which aren’t easily categorized; for me, its timeless allure is that of a subversively chic fragrance which teeters on the edge of being equal parts sporty and a good measure of no-nonsense – all the while flashing a discreet glimpse of saucy undergarments. Many aficionados observe that it leans towards the masculine, but if that is so, then it would be the suave barbershop visage of a David Niven (he was a Knize Ten fan). Dazzling aldehydes greet the nose, accompanied by the brief beauty of lemon and bergamot. What ensues is delightfully rosy-herbal and piquantly spiced, employing a wide swath of rose-emphatic tones: citrusy geranium, the complex minty/champagne/rosewater notes of rose geranium, and grassy/lemony/rosy palmarosa. A more intense floralcy is fleshed out with clovey carnation and floral, spicy black pepper. At this stage in Spanish Geranium’s development, its overall impression is that of sunlit tonicity, a breath of fresh air, the wellbeing of a seasoned traveler who can afford luxurious tailored garments and ocean voyages to warmer climes. If this sounds wonderful, just wait for the drydown.
Lanvin Spanish Geranium’s base is comprised of olfactory magic: the soft balsamic tones of tonka and benzoin, rosy/earth/salinity of true ambergris, just enough patchouli for depth paired with unblemished oakmoss. In addition, we smell a costly sandalwood coupled with a soupçon of civet – all of them the real deal. No stinting, no budgetary considerations. I don’t see how this perfume could be replicated today; while there are technical advances and marvelous aroma chemicals available, I can’t conceive that one could achieve a comparable effect. Perhaps it might appear dated to today’s consumer, but I don’t think so: it’s much more interesting than many other fragrances on the market, so very versatile, and truly unisex.
Notes: aldehydes, geranium, lemon, bergamot, palmarosa, carnation, rose geranium, pepper, tonka, oakmoss, ambergris, patchouli, benzoin, civet, sandalwood
Bottles are from my own collection. My nose is my own…
~ Ida Meister, Deputy and Natural Perfumery Editor
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