Defining Rose
April 11th, 2007
Everyone knows what a rose smells like, right? Well, not so fast. Those who have only a passing acquaintance with roses may think they all smell pretty much alike when they have any scent at all, but in truth the world of roses is a vast one, with a correspondingly broad spectrum of fragrances spanning a range from sublime to unpleasant. I cannot possibly touch on all of them here, but just a few examples may get you thinking about sampling some different roses, either in your garden or in a bottle of perfume.
Let’s get the unpleasant part out of the way first. A species called Rosa Foetida, a native of the southern Caucasus area of Europe, was introduced by rose breeders many years ago as a way to get the yellow and orange colors into northern European roses, which were virtually all white, pink and crimson. The hybrids did inherit the color – as well as a fungal disease called blackspot and sometimes the pungent odor of Rosa Foetida, a turpentine-like acrid smell. However, as new varieties were developed and crossed further to make new generations of hybrids, the smell of this rose mostly disappeared. It crops up in some interesting places, however. The very famous tomato-red Hybrid Tea ‘Fragrant Cloud’ has a distinct and pungent odor of turpentine on very hot days that cuts right through its sweetness. I never grew it for that very reason. However, one if its progeny is an interesting example of floral fragrance genetics. ‘Dolly Parton’ is a cross between ‘Fragrant Cloud’ and a black-red rose called ‘Oklahoma”, a descendant of the ‘General Jacqueminot’ rose famous for its sweet scent in the 19th century (and the subject of the famous first perfume by Francois Coty, La Rose Jacqueminot in 1904). Dolly got a generous dose of thick, jammy damask fragrance from this parent, and no matter how hot it gets, she is never anything but delicious.
Speaking of damask, that is the ancient archetype of rose fragrance, what we all think of as “rosy” and immediately recognized by everyone. It is also the type of rose most used in perfumery (it includes those called Moroccan or Turkish roses) along with Rosa Centifolia, known in the trade as Rose de Mai. Damask roses are powerfully fragrant and very intensely sweet, while Rose de Mai has a soft, dewy demeanor that is well suited to blending with other essences in perfumes. Sometimes Musk roses are also used in perfumes. They have a honey-like almost powdery scent that is very pleasing in the garden and in perfumes.
In modern times, old European roses were crossed with roses from the Far East called Tea and China roses. This is a broad term for a group of tender roses from Asia that brought a whole new range of fragrances into the West, adding delicious fruity and spicy aromas to the rose breeders’ scent palette. This has resulted in some wonderful roses that smell of oranges, lemons, apples, raspberries, peaches, cloves and other delights. One of my very favorites is a Hybrid Tea called ‘Rosemary Harkness’ that has the heady zing of fresh passion fruit. Another is ‘Comtesse de Provence,’ a majestically old-fashioned looking flower that smells exactly like sun-warmed ripe apricots. You can imagine how often my nose is buried in this one! My “Holy Grail” of this group, too tender to succeed in my climate without careful winter protection, is a butter-yellow climbing Noisette rose called ‘Marechal Niel,’ said to be scented of ripe wild strawberries.
One of these roses has actually been made into its own perfume – the Crabtree & Evelyn company bought the rights to a wonderful rose by the master breeder of English Roses®, David Austin, and named it Evelyn. They used it in an eponymous fragrance line that highlights its fruity scent. This rose smells (to me) of ripe nectarines, and is not very “rosy” at all. The perfume is the same way, and it is the least rosy of any soliflore type rose fragrance I am aware of. The English roses are probably the most fragrant of the modern roses, and many of them have unusual scents. My special favorites among them are the ones that smell of myrrh, which you may know from such perfumes as Caron’s Parfum Sacre or the many incense-based perfumes on the market today. The cool thing about these flowers is that the myrrh is built right in, no need to add it! It is extremely pleasing but not really sweet at all, just heady and bracing, an exhilarating aroma. Of course, I have my favorites in this sub-group as well, and the one I would choose above the others is ‘Emanuel,’ introduced in 1985 and named after the designers of Princess Diana’s wedding dress. This apricot-pink beauty hard to find now but its exquisite fragrance is a perfect blend of myrrh and damask, and I treasure my one bush of it. If I had room for a thousand of them, maybe I could have my own special perfume made too. Now, that’s my idea of a soliflore.
By Donna Hathaway
Image source: Illustration of ‘Marechal Niel’ by Hermann Friese, from Julius Hoffmann’s The Amateur Gardener’s Rose Book, 1905
Entry Filed under: Guest Blogger, Perfume Reviews
10 Comments Add your own
1. Marina | April 11th, 2007 at 7:19 am
Donna, what a fascinating article! The smell of myrrh built right in. Awesome.
I found the article on Symrise, and was looking for her dictionary, in English, ever since, but without any success. 
Have you heard about Alma de L’Aigle? This German woman was a great fan of roses and created a dictionary of 700 rose varieties. In the dictionary she described the appearance and the smell of roses. She described rose Erato, for example, as smelling
like asparagus peels mixed with apple peels.
2. Elle | April 11th, 2007 at 7:42 am
Am obsessed w/ rose scents these days. Not so in love w/ growing roses. Gave all of mine w/ minimal scent eviction notices this year. However, just as I was getting ready to toss the ones w/ strong scent as well, Blanche Double de Coubert and Julia Child started to bloom and their gorgeous scents have convinced me to spare them and the others which are scented. Ayrshire Splendens and David Austin’s Tamora are two of my favorite myrrh scented roses. Wasn’t particularly taken by C&E’s or David Austin’s Evelyn, but MDCI FK2 reminds me a great deal of C&E Rose Water (don’t think they have a perfume, just bath products for that one) and is quite lovely.
3. newproducts | April 11th, 2007 at 7:59 am
What an interesting piece. Thank you for teaching me so much about roses this morning. I adore Parfum Sacre and am fascinated that there are roses with the myrrh scent built in. I would love to smell a real rose like that some day.
4. tmp00 | April 11th, 2007 at 10:47 am
Fascinating! I have to email this to my rose-growing friend. I’ll be googling roses all day!
5. winterwheat | April 11th, 2007 at 1:56 pm
What a wonderfully descriptive and fascinating post. Your words illulstrate why I’ve always been a little frustrated by perfume reviews that merely list notes, e.g., “It’s a nice combination of rose, jasmine, and musk…” What KIND of rose does it smell like? The powdery kind? The fruity kind? The jammy kind? Phrases like “a rose that smells of fresh apricots” is so much more evocative (and accurate). Yellow hothouse roses have always been my favorites scentwise, so your description of Marechal Niel — a yellow that smells of strawberries! — practically made me weep.
6. Christine | April 11th, 2007 at 4:13 pm
What a great post! It makes me wish I had some outdoor space for a couple of rose bushes. My favorites growing up were the English roses, specifically a David Austin variety he named, “Pat Austin” after his wife. I found it to be quite “peachy” and was beautiful in sight and in scent.
7. esthétique du parfum | April 11th, 2007 at 5:14 pm
I ‘m not a straight-up rose person but I like Rose Ikebana, Rose Barbare and Rose de Nuit, a stunning sensual mysterious animalic/chypre rose that seems to come straight from Pasolini’s film “Il fiore delle mille e una notte” (Arabian Nights). the most exciting and alluring rose perfume on the market.
8. winterwheat | April 11th, 2007 at 6:43 pm
To e-d-p: I too love Rose de Nuit. After I read your post I put a touch on my arm and recalled the time one of my perfume-loving friends sent me an unlabelled sample of scent with the imperative that I GUESS WHICH PERFUME! it was. I have a bell bottle of Rose de Nuit, so I know how it smells, and the mystery scent reminded me so much of it that I guessed RdN. Wrong: it was Clinique Aromatics Elixir. (!!!) Turns out AE is a rose chypre too, so they have something in common. If only AE were made in a more diluted form, I might consider wearing it when my RdN runs out.
9. Flora | April 12th, 2007 at 12:27 am
Thanks, everyone! I could have gone on for many pages about my favorite rose scents, but I tried to restrain myself.
Marina, I also discovered Alma de l’Aigle on Symrise, and I went hunting for that dictionary! I would love to read it in English. And yes, myrrh-scented roses are awesome! They are almost shocking at first, they are so different, but one soon becomes addicted.
Elle, I know what you mean - the rose plants can be a lot of trouble to grow, but oh, the rewards. You have excellent taste in roses - Tamora is one of the best of the myrrh-scented English varieties.
winterwheat, if I ever find a place where I can grow Marechal Niel, I will be very happy. If it were a smaller plant I could figure out a way to protect it, but it climbs to 15 feet so it really needs a true hothouse environment. I do have a very hardy orange climber of about the same size called Orange Everglow. It is no longer on the market as far as I know (it’s from 1949) but I keep it going, as it smells exactly of of Earl Grey tea and violets. Yes, really!
Christine, I have collected a number of the English Roses, are they not wonderful? I also live fairly near a huge display garden that has almost all of them, plus hundreds of others - I make at least one annual pilgrimage to sniff.
e-d-p, I really must try to find some Rose de Nuit! Of course I love the SL Sa Majeste de la Rose, which is so velvety and deep, but the other one, oh dear, I do adore a rose chypre! Parfum Sacre is a big favorite of mine. I swear, the SL Exclusive Range was specifically designed to drive me insane. ;-p
I appreciate all your comments. I had been thinking of this subject for awhile, how the word “rose” cannot describe the exact scent of either a flower or a perfume, it’s just not enough to cover all the possibilities.
10. Ina | April 14th, 2007 at 4:28 pm
Donna, thank you for such a fascinating and informative post! Rose is one of my favorite perfume ingredients, and I’m thrilled to know more about it as a flower.
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