Aromascope

The Ladies of Caron

July 24th, 2007

By Donna Hathaway

I have a confession to make; I am not a big fan of change for its own sake. Just because something can be done does not mean it should be done. Any changes should be clear improvements and not just because someone had a half-baked idea and wanted to foist it on the rest of us. I can’t stand it when my favorite stores get what is called a re-set – they move everything around so I can’t just go in and grab something because I know exactly where it is. Large chain stores are infamous for this, and there seems to be no clear reason for it. Some big national stores require it every couple of years, which of course goes over like a lead balloon with their employees, who must devote many extra hours to relocate everything in the store to “freshen it up” for the supposedly jaded shoppers. This tactic is guaranteed to drive me nuts – and sometimes, to drive me entirely away from shopping there.

I guess this is one reason why I love classic fragrances so much, since they have stood the test of time and need no improvements. That is, until someone decides they need to be “updated” for a new generation of perfume customers. In most cases this is a bad misstep on the part of the manufacturer. Guerlain, Chanel, and others have been caving in to this pressure lately, and I hope it stops before too much damage is done to the originals. (There are other threats to the integrity of the classics as well; along with every other fragrance aficionado I know of, I abhor the new European Union commerce rules requiring complete ingredient labels on perfume and limiting the use of such wonderful natural materials as oakmoss and bergamot in favor of synthetics or cheaper substitutes. I will not go into greater detail here, as many others have rendered their far more expert opinions on this subject.)

One perfume house that has not done a whole lot of this is Caron, one of my top two favorite classic houses. (The other is Jean Patou.) Yes, they have come out with new fragrances, as all houses do, but for the most part they have resisted the idea of bringing out “versions” or “special editions” of their longstanding favorites. For this I am most grateful, as I am sure many perfume lovers are.

I have in front of me two Caron fragrances, classic and modern. Fleurs de Rocaille is a floral creation from 1933. The bottle is instantly recognizable as a vintage Caron flacon, elegant yet sturdy and an excellent indicator of the quality inside. Caron bottles are always classy; the idea of putting one of its products in a vulgar or cheap-looking container is simply unthinkable. The name means “flowers in a rock garden”, and it has a fresh, charming spring-like quality, combining a number of floral notes including rose, violet, jonquil, jasmine and mimosa with cedar, musk and rosewood. I would not say it is a youthful or ingénue fragrance despite this quality; rather it is a perfume meant to be worn by a true Lady. It is not really simple, it is simply free of anything resembling vulgarity.

I located several versions of the original formulation for this perfume and I suspect that it has possibly been redone at some point, or that the notes given by OsMoz.com are incomplete, but it does not smell like a recent introduction at all. There is a cool restfulness to it, due to the violet, mimosa and jonquil, yet there is also a spicy note of carnation, a round richness from the rose, and sharpness from the cedar. Some of the notes seem somewhat disparate, and one wonders how they all work together to create such a fine effect. Since it is a a Caron, of course it works splendidly. This one of those wonderfully seamless floral blends that is greater than the sum of its parts, a quality I admire very much in a fragrance. There is a greenness that somehow bears a resemblance to the cool airiness that stephanotis would lend to a fragrance. There is rose in the opening as well, but it’s hard to isolate, as is the subtle carnation note. The whole thing is subtly brightened by ylang-ylang, and the lively character persists into the dry down due to the presence of cedar. It is highly wearable yet distinctive, and would be appropriate for almost any occasion that I would wish to be a part of.

I recently became reacquainted with this one due to receiving a generously sized sample with a purchase, and I found myself wondering why I did not own a full bottle of this. Of course I want to try all the new things; who doesn’t? I get distracted by the sheer numbers of new releases every year just like everyone else. However, I have learned enough by now to understand that 90% of these will be entirely forgotten in five years (if not sooner), and only a tiny fraction of the surviving ones will ever become enduring classics. Exceptions would be new lines like Frederic Malle and Serge Lutens, whose standards of quality rival the great older houses. If Fleurs de Rocaille were introduced today, it would probably receive positive attention from those who understand perfume, but to the world at large it would most likely be lost in the shuffle of too many new products and not enough marketing. Caron does not purchase flashy ads starring stick figure, six-figure actresses to promote its perfumes. It does not have to. For those to whom these things matter, Caron stands for high quality and tradition, and it does not skimp on either one.

(That being said, Caron did release Miss Rocaille in 2004, in a similar-looking (though bright red) bottle, but it is an entirely different fragrance and should not really be construed as a “version” of the original.)

This brings us to the Caron I wear most often – the modern classic Lady Caron. The flacon has a typical Caron look, elegantly rounded with a sharply faceted stopper, but the design on the glass is a bas-relief image of the head of our own great gift from France, the Statue of Liberty. Ernest Daltroff, master perfumer and the founder of the House of Caron in 1903, had vowed to one day create a fragrance as a tribute to America, as he was a refugee who arrived in Canada in 1939 and then came to the United States, a Russian Jew fleeing the horrors of wartime Europe. He never did make such a perfume, since he never returned to Europe to run the business and died two years after coming to America, but Patrick Alès, the current head of Caron, paid tribute to this vow by unveiling Lady Caron for the first time at the opening of the New York City Caron boutique in 2000. (The creator of this lovely scent was Caron’s in-house perfumer Richard Fraysse, who also brought us the lovely Tubereuse in 2003.)

Lady Caron is recognized by French perfume industry experts as the softest fragrance ever to be introduced to the world by a French house. It has absolutely no sharp edges to it anywhere – wearing it is like being enveloped in cashmere while floating on a cloud. It is not in the least powdery, however, as that would render it too sweet and smothering. It glides serenely in a mist of magnolia, jasmine, neroli and orange blossom. The heart notes are of rose, raspberry and peach, but no, it is most emphatically not a “fruity-floral” either. When I say peach or raspberry, do not think for even a moment that these are the usual notes found in the department store celebrity scents. They are so well integrated into the composition that they are almost invisible, serving only to add a soft shimmer of gentle freshness, and they do not resemble food in any way. The rose is almost certainly Rose de Mai and not damask, as its damp, soft character is only a mere breath, and a perfect complement to round out the other notes. Oakmoss and sandalwood complete this harmonious picture, and they are highly refined and subtle renditions of those essences. Again, this fragrance is a masterpiece of design that transcends its individual ingredients. I cannot imagine not having this wonderful perfume in my life. It is the very essence of femininity, in the best possible sense of the term.

Now, the Lady Caron in my possession was purchased well before the new EU rules were handed down, so I fervently hope that it will not need to be reformulated. It would take a true master to do so successfully, as it is ideally balanced just the way it is. The oakmoss is a great part of what keeps it from being overly sweet, and I really like oakmoss anyway. I can smell that in this fragrance more than I can the sandalwood, and it gives it a good deal of its character. It would be a terrible shame to alter this in the name of conformity. As much as I dislike change for its own sake, I have an even greater aversion to conformity. The EU’s arbitrary “because we said so” rules are destroying some things of great beauty, and that in itself in unforgivable. Let us all hope that these wonderful perfumes can endure well into the future without unnecessary interference.

Image source: The Perfume House, parfumdepub.net

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