The City of Lights has drawn American writers, musicians and artists from the 1800s to the present… Henry James, Nina Simone, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Van Morrison, Charlie Parker are just a few; today Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs are ‘expatriates’.
We celebrate Americans in Paris with our draw for Lady Caron. Ernest Daltroff the Jewish founder and first in house nose of the House of Caron fled for his life during World War II occupied France. Approaching Ellis Island, his eyes fell upon the majestic splendor and imposing beauty of the Statue of Liberty, welcoming him to the safe haven of America. Deeply moved, he promised to create a perfume to commemorate this moment…Caron’s in house nose Richard Freysee honored Daltroff in 2000. To enter the draw please write a comment on site about your favorite Caron perfume or what the Statue of Liberty means to you. All three draws.. for Etat Libre D'Orange Jasmin and Cigarette, Eau de Italie Au Lac and Caron Lady Caron close July 16 at 10 pm est
Early morning. I awaken to the clean smell of water from the open hydrants that are washing the streets below my window in the Mouffetard. Out I go, headed for my usual coffee at the café on the Place de la Contrescarpe. Ah, the scent of freshly baked almond croissants is wafting in the air mixed with fresh flowers from window boxes along my way. I am now seated awaiting my espresso when suddenly I catch the scent of a fine lady with dark red hair sitting near me. Her perfume is magnetic, blended beautifully into her skin. It smelled like forests and fields and slightly spicy, heady and kind of wild. It wasn’t tame or sweet.
With her scent still lingering I am now back in my room practicing for tonight’s concert with Nina but my heart has been lost to the scent of this woman. Would I ever know her? Perhaps in a dream. This is my scent of Paris.
-Al Schackman. Guitarist of many years with Nina Simone.
The essence of Paris is a combination of food, cigarette smoke, petrol, and beautiful perfume.
The morning smells of fresh baking baguettes and hotel lobby lingering scents of alcohol, perfume, and old patina.
The sidewalk café with buttery, pain au chocolat pastry with melted chocolate. The espresso coffees and the café au lait mix with cigarette smoke and dirty ashtrays.
Bistros are reeling with olive oil and garlic sautéing, escargot, and decanted wine.
Open air markets are ripe with olives, strong cheese, and fish combined with petrol spewing out of the cars in the roundabouts.
– JoAnne Bassett, Fragrance Therapist – Natural Couture Perfumer
Bastille Day in a Bottle
I walk past the patisserie on Champs-Elysees; inhaling fragrant café au lait and croissants.
At Île de la Cité, I light my small votive in the darkened Cathedral of Notre Dame.
The burned match smells dangerously of gunpowder, political and rebellious.
Emerging into the light, I’m asked, “Croque Monsieur ou Croque Madame?” “The bosoms smelling of butter, Gruyere and Dijon, sil vous plait, “ I respond.
I eat, standing on the quay by the Seine. Merci, displaced chefs to beheaded aristocracy, for bringing your cuisine to the masses.
Bastille Day is a sumptuous, smoky-gourmand named Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité.
Shelley Waddington, Perfumer
The last time I saw Paris… I was on my honeymoon. And while I
remember that it smelled of coffee and stones and history, my first
fragrant thought of Paris is of the perfume I fell in love with but
by the end of my stay in Paris, I could never wear again.
We were at Place Vendome (a wonderful perfume history hub) and
sampled our way through every niche parfumerie I had researched until
we came to the one I most wanted to visit: Parfums de Nicolai.
I
found many fragrant treasures there but one fabulous, heady, sexy
tuberose-spice-soft oriental stole my heart. I bought the biggest
bottle I could afford (I should mention here that it was the basic
bottle for decanting into a crystal flacon, so it had an open top,
not a spray atomizer) and for the next few days just sniffed the
bottle before bed and as soon as I arose in the morning. On our last
day, I decided to wear my precious juice since we were getting on a
train and heading south; I wanted to keep Paris all around me as long
as I could.
While dressing, as I am just about to apply a small
amount (this is beautiful but INTENSE stuff), my husband
accidentally knocked my arm and 1/4 of the bottle poured on my neck
and shoulders. I was soaked. Needless to say, I needed a train car
all to myself that day.
My Parisian perfume love affair now sits
encapsulated and since unopened except to occasionally inhale and
ponder what might have been. I am still in love with Paris, though.
Happy Bastille Day! ~ DSH
–Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, Perfumer, Founder and Owner of Parfums Des Beaux Arts
*_Bastille Day : Scented Souvenirs of Paris_*
When asked to recall my fragrant reminiscences of Paris, I am haunted by
the most recent and potent of recollections-
The year the French won the World Cup, 1998.
As a family, we intuited that we had an extremely small window of
opportunity to travel.
Families and life being what they are- we felt ourselves squeezed
between “several rocks and a hard place”…
If we didn’t go then, we’d /never be able to/.
How prophetic /that /was.
We found ourselves in the midst of an unseasonably hot, crowded Paris,
at the end of a long journey via Opel Vectra with two exhausted young
children, one fairly weary, hungry spouse…
And Paris was *delirious*.
They had just won the World Cup !!!
Hot, humid Paris.
The *air was heavy*; the sidewalks emitted a *lovely damp pavement*
aroma tempered with *abundant tendrils of cigarette smoke*.
Everywhere we walked, the seductive *siren song of freshly baked bread*
accompanied us.
Freshly roasted and ground *strong coffee* soon wafted on our heels,
inviting us to stop, drink, and observe the crush of humanity from the
sanctuary of a sidewalk café.
If I were to pick my two most cherished scented memories, they would
HAVE to be these:
1) My visit to the Rue de Valois- Les Salons Du Palais Royal Shiseido,
home to Serge Lutens’ collection.
2) My visit to underground Paris- visiting the Roman ruins.
The two are as dissimilar as you can get.
I had dreamed, since before 1990, of a visit to Les Salons.
It was very clear that I had a choice- I could go to Comptoir, OR
Guerlain– OR Caron– OR Les Salons.
Not ALL .
My poor travel-weary family was unable to tolerate more than one- so
Serge Lutens it was.
*It is amazing how fluently one can speak in French , where perfume is *
*concerned !*
The magnificently purple environs housed the now-infamous *bell jars of
my preciousnesses…*
I sniffed and snorted each one relentlessly-
*Iris, storax, benzoin, Mysore sandalwood, orange blossom, rose, violet,
vetiver, cedar, vanilla…..ad infinitum !*
It is NEVER enough.
I chose four to bring back [that was the deal, folks ! ] –
Un Santal Mysore, Un Lys, Bois Oriental, Un Bois Sepia..
Roman ruins…
I am enamored of history and its artifacts.
I love the tales they tell, the forensic clues to our own understanding.
So a foray under the streets of Paris is a treasure.
The *beautiful odor of decay*, of *human sweat in small spaces*, *cool
marmoreal surfaces*…
*Plaster* , the *moisture of breath releasing its singular scent*,
punctuated by the *saltiness of feet*, many of them- all tramping
through annals of subterranean history.
*Moist metals.*
I hope to revisit Paris sometime soon; with college tuitions, it doesn’t
look very likely;-0
The best part: our sons have been there, on their own steam, as growing
men –
And will carry many of their own precious olfactory remembrances…
* *
* *
–Ida Meister, Sr. Editor
– Michelyn Camen, Editor in Chief
Editor's note: CaFleureBon was inspired by Gertrude Stein's Salon in Paris Gertrude Stein. If you haven't read Monica Miller's, Sr. Editor's 'A Perfume for Nina' , please delight in this true story https://cafleurebon.com//a-perfume-for-nina-a-tribute-to-nina-simone/