N'Aimez Que Moi

(Parfum review) A few miles down the road from me is the (in)famous Winchester House, built by the unfathomably wealthy widow of the Winchester fortune. If you don’t know the story, Sarah Winchester lost her husband and infant daughter at a relatively young age, and spent the rest of her life in a depressive state, haunted by the spirits of all who met their fate by a Winchester rifle. She believed if she ever stopped building her mansion, she would die, and today the house stands as a testament to her state of mind. Staircases lead nowhere, walls are left unfinished, and after the 1906 earthquake an entire wing was made off limits as proof that the spirits were out to punish her. The one shining exception to this shrine to insanity is Sarah’s bedroom. As you climb an uneven set of 3 inch stairs (she suffered from arthritis later in life), you stumble into a room where you are hit by a blast of opulence. Deep, red velvet tapestries cover the windows, chairs and sitting couches. Her four poster bed and cabinets are made of dark, well polished wood. The floor is made of intricately weaved overlay, and the marble fireplace is stunningly ornate. If you tour this house may I suggest wearing N’aimez que moi. It is THE scent for this landmark, as it opens as a moth-ridden, mess of a fragrance that appears to go nowhere. But then... it turns the corner and bursts forth with an incredibly rich rose and violet accord. It’s as if you were channeling Sarah herself, who at one point was one of the wealthiest persons in America. I love this complex scent; it is mysterious, grand, and utterly original.

Fabulous old school Caron, but lighter and fresher than most of them. And it was the parfum that was launched in 1916; I don't recall Caron bringing out the edp version until at least 2005 and maybe later (more recently). I know the rose is only listed as a top note, but to my nose anyway, the rose and the lilac linger for hours. I agree with most of the other reviews, and if there is violet in there somewhere the lilac completely overwhelms it. It lasts at least 6 hours on my skin anyway. My bottles (parfum and edp) were made way before the French restrictions and I have no idea if they have tried changing the formula with this scent. I seldom get to the Saks counter to check. Saks is the only store I know that still sells Caron. (Caron, at least 5-10 of its major scents, used to be sold at every major department store, including some of the ones in towns with less than 100,000 people. Sob. They don't call them the good old days for nothing.) This stuff was never cheap, but it's worth every penny spent. The edp is every bit as good as the parfum, and you don't have to worry about it evaporating out of the stopper.

I applied N'Aimez Que Moi EDP and started listening to a French Horn solo Spotify playlist, as for some reason, it reminds me of the horn's plangent timbre. The open phrase is classic Caron, feeling like a glade within a dense, mossy forest, moths fluttering feebly on wild herbs, and the distant plaintive cries of a rose among consoling sweet violet and clove-shaded lilac. "Dry your eyes" they say, in the powdered, cloudy, misty daydream glade. The rose, now upraised, disperses the mist with its own song, "Love Only Me." The clouds part just somewhat and rays shine down, the french horn echoes into the forest. The rose is now joined by the chorus of the woods, the arching cedars genuflect, and the refrain sings, "we will reunite my love, and all will be well." This smells of one of the truest roses, if only for a short, magical time, until the wooded chorus sends it to a blissful sleep. This may prove to be far too precious, antique and fusty to all but the connoisseur, but I happen to find it absolutely faultless. It's poetry.

A strangely herbal violet shows up at the beginning, certainly not the sweet , delicate, candy violet that we've grown accustomed to smelling in a typical violet perfume. There's also the wood notes from the vetiver, creating a confusing mixture of unexpected earthiness. After about 10 minutes on my skin a beautiful rose scent begins to emerge, and it's mixed with oak moss and musk to create a beautiful chypre. A very moody, melancholic type perfume that would easily represent sweethearts separated during World War I when this was created. The beginning is rough, but it ends up becoming a beautiful fragrance. Unlike anything modern, it really is from another time. Recommended for vintage lovers.

I tried this because I was looking for a violet perfume. I did not get any violet at all. Not a hint. It is, however, the most divine rose. Soft, creamy, luxurious. It's a classic, timeless scent. Rose perfected. It's not "old" but classy, strong, like the woman of our past with steel spines and delicate hands, enduring a world men could never understand. There are no violets in here. It's all Roses. The vanilla and sandalwood give it a creamy texture. There is also amber mingling in the base with a little oakmoss and perhaps some musk.