Jicky

*****FIFTY SHADES OF GUERLAIN***** #2) Jicky (1889, Aimè Guerlain) -golden forest brown- Modern (c. 2012) extrait review I have reviewed hundreds of fragrances and own in excess of a thousand; yet, no other scent has confounded me as much while managing to enrapture me so completely. Please bear with me as I attempt to translate something so utterly iconic and sublime as Jicky using only the written word... I felt as if I was looking down the wrong end of the proverbial microscope, attempting to review and experience such a legendary and revered perfume as Jicky having only a decanted sample of the most recent (read: "post-IFRA's most stringent guidelines and more than a decade after the LVMH takeover") extrait version with which to plumb the depths of Aimè Guerlain's late 19th century masterpiece. Yes, I know, that word gets bandied about a bit; yet if any scent ever deserved that appellation-it's Jicky, even this almost holographic representation is no less amazing and still has its Guerlain glimmer! To put this perfume is an historical perspective, it was released right in the middle of the Belle Èpoque era (1871-1914) in Europe, corresponding to the Gilded Age in the US. The Eiffel Tower was unveiled (many scorned it calling it gauche and unsightly), Van Gogh painted "Starry Night", the Moulin Rouge was open for business and Gustav Mahler premiered his first symphony. Baudelaire, Gaugin, Matisse, Bernard, Toulouse-Lautrec and a very young Picasso frequented Paris nightlife and salons. Pierre-François had passed away twenty-five years earlier leaving the Guerlain legacy to his two sons: Aimè becoming a second generation Master Perfumer and Gabriel *father of Jacques* running and expanding the business. The Age of the Machine was dawning and as exciting as that was, folks were a little skeptical of anything "un-natural". Guerlain was a pioneer and Jicky broke many a mold. It is touted as the first "emotive" perfume (not single note or place specific). This fragrance was not the first to use synthetics (Houbigant used coumarin in Fougère Royale 6 years earlier) but Aimè was the first perfumer daring enough to combine more than one synthetic (coumarin, ethyl-vanillin and linalool) into a blend of natural essences; thus its title of first "modern" perfume. Allegedly, it is also the first fragrance to be called "perfume", as opposed to eau de cologne I would imagine(?). He crafted Fleurs d'Italie (1884), Skine (1885) and Rococo (1887) beforehand and Excellence (1890), Belle-France (1892) and his dual swan songs of Capricime alongside his generational ode to cologne Eau de Cologne du Coq in 1894 afterwards; however Jicky is, in my humble opinion, his magnum opus. Without intending to (or perhaps he DID) M. Guerlain conceived and created a very androgynous unisex perfume. Supposedly, this was released for women, but was later adopted by men, ultimately being favored by both genders. One myth states prostitutes wore it because it left a very masculine trace and trail (not the more feminine scents usually worn by courtesans) lingering on their (presumably married) clients. Then, just as now, many people fear what they do not understand...and Jicky remains perplexing on many levels. It was not initially received well (many said it "smelled like feet"! in 1889) and I am sure the *still* visionary fusion of a classic fougère structure being adorned with sophisticated flowers dusted with a subtle mélange of oriental notes then drenched by an overdose of civet musk left many inquisitive sniffers with wrinkled noses; no doubt shaking their heads and reaching for their snuff tins. Many call this perfume "schizophrenic". I disagree wholeheartedly. There must be a "schism" (break) for that to be true and Jicky is anything but fractured or confused. The reaction of modern people has been a bit insane; as I have gotten the STRANGEST range of comments while wearing Jicky for the last few days (trying to wrap both my nose and brain around it). Everything from "you smell awe-some!" to (Sherapop's aforementioned) "spice cake" accord to my partner's declaration that one of the most majestic fragrances ever created reeked of "offal...with burnt hair on top"! Moral of the story: TRY BEFORE YOU BUY...because Jicky doesn't come cheap! *see links below* An immediate vaporous warmth surrounded me as a lemon-dominated blend of citruses add lift to gradually unfurling herbal accords and the aroma of savory spices. Its true fougère nature is apparent as velvet lavender opens in the heart giving this a classic appeal with rustic undertones. The inviting charm of the opening draws you, like a bouncing and bright will-o-the-wisp, guiding you into a half-lit forest dense with fertile soil, cool greens and heady blooms wafting through warm thick air tinged with muskiness. A beguiling creature appears from the underbrush, each and every movement graceful while gliding between the trunks. It continues prancing and laughing with a blend of innocent joy and mature wisdom though each and every gesture belies an intimate sensuality and deep connection to the Earth. This being radiates a masculine strength and rural ruggedness; yet, its obvious gentleness and feminine grace enchants, even as it confounds. Aimè Guerlain used varying degrees of green (orris, linalool and vetiver) to blend seemingly incongruous notes ultimately bridging the gap between "his" (fougère) and "hers" (floriental) with perfumed tendrils who pull the scent together as it expands and evolves. An exotic balminess remains languorously for hours on skin. Coumarin's sweet breath lingers over vanilla glazed and spice-impregnated wood. Purring quietly as it caresses you one last time, emitting a (for want of a better term) "fresh funk" that haunts the memory with its beauty, almost as much as its oddness, before fading away into the wee hours a cold frosty night. Projection on modern Jicky extrait varies greatly, depending on whether it's dabbed or sprayed, and on where it's applied. The longevity (especially on clothing, detectable even days later) is superlative. Sillage is soft, yet it can reappear-stretching and baring its claws a bit-when skin warms. It wore best for me on a drizzly and chill autumn day. Jicky is the perfect scent for such occasions as it has a definite ambience and moody complexity. Silage: moderate then soft Longevity: above average Overall: 5/5 *TIMELESS AND ETERNAL* Jicky is like the groovy great grandmother perfume surrounded now by her various fresh, oriental and fruity floral progeny. She is still amazing, warm and full of life. Unfortunately, she is not what she once was. Though very much alive she tires quickly and doesn't do quite as much as she used to do. Her very matronly aura commands respect though she is anything but formal, quick to hug with a joke and a smile. Always comfortable with herself and who and what she was, perhaps it is best we choose to remember her how she was in her heyday, full of sass and a total knockout while still being grateful we have her around today. She's still that lady (and always will be) who remembers (though she may claim that she doesn't) sylvan moonlight soirées and dancing barefoot in clothes that smelled of earth, love, smoke and flowers wandering home at dawn; now smiling and humming as she taps her nimble feet and gazes with ancient eyes at a full golden midsummer moon. I am forever grateful to Gojira (AKA The Nichemeister) for sharing his precious exrait with me and apologize to Jicky, itself, for neglecting it for such a long time. I sprayed it on paper, upon initially receiving it a couple years ago (and was instantly intrigued); yet its faint sillage let it slip "under my radar"; surrounded as it was, by paper strips wafting Lutens, Nasomatto and Montale. I placed it in a drawer until just recently...and maybe that is just as well. I can honestly say when I received this I was on a "niche" rather than a "vintage" expedition; so even if I had worn it I doubt it would have the impact it has had on me. I'm sure IT will tire of me long before I grow tired of it! My appreciation for Jicky is thus three-fold: it's groundbreaking construction at the time it was created, it's historical significance (both as a masterpiece perfume, nay work of ART) and ultimately, that no matter how "heavenly" I ever think it smells-it remains warmly human, divinely dirty and undeniably earthy. One final word about Jicky, and the lore surrounding it, its connection to Coty's Emeraude and its giving birth (eventually) to the classic oriental Shalimar: regardless of who added what to this to get that, when and for whom each and every one of those classics may have never been were it not for M. Guerlain throwing caution to the wind and pushing the envelope as he did. Love it or hate it, vintage or modern...Jicky deserves praise and has more than earned the status of legendary. A true "must sniff" reference scent and milestone watershed moment in perfumery.

If someone offered me the opportunity to go to a great art museum, alone or with just a friend or two, and spend all the time there I wanted for a bit less than $40, I'd probably jump at the chance. If they told me that when I was ready, I could take a piece of art home to keep for no extra charge, I'd be off like a shot to get there before they changed their mind (or recovered their sanity). This is how I feel about the chance to shop Guerlain's many offerings on the discounter websites. Jicky, like Shalimar, Mitsuko, Vetiver and so many others, is a work of art and history in a bottle. I have never gotten a fecal note from Jicky. What I experience is a fleeting citrus masterpiece at the opening that is quickly joined by the three elements that mark so many of the Guerlain products from before 1970: (1) animalc leather (civet with some castoreum in the vintage bottles, or convincing, if lighter, chemical substitutes in current formulations); (2) vanilla/lavender/sandalwood (the Guerlain base that was first seen in Jicky and which became integral to the DNA of the house in the decades that followed); & (3) powdery orris (high quality and, to my nose, natural smelling). It is all rather elegant (and at least to my perceptions) so totally unisex that I cannot fathom what made the house initially market this product to women and not to all. Perhaps that decision was a product of the era in which Jicky was released, but famously, it was Belle Epoque men who bought Jicky and made it a success. When I wear Jicky, I feel like I am smelling history. It has its bright spots--often what first catches your attention. It also has more difficult moments which can prove momentarily challenging but which ultimately resolve into a comprehensible whole that provides irreplaceable insight into what we all encounter today. That's Jicky. Understanding this beautiful creation is just so vital to truly fathoming what came after it. Much of today's fragrance landscape would not exist were it not for the success of Jicky. I wear Jicky in warmer weather. I find the performance of the current formulation to be less well adapted to the dry cold of winter. The Extrait, if you can find it and are willing to pay the much higher price, works well in the cold and smooths and softens the sharpest moments in the other versions. These days, Jicky is a great scent for time spent at home. It is comfortable to wear but intriguing when you take time to focus on it. Like the bottle for Perrier-Jouet Fleur de Champagne, the bee bottle used for Jicky is elegant, historic and somehow presages what it contains. As such, it is a great decision regarding presentation of this classic scent. Also, the atomizers on these bottles are quite good. Any fragrance enthusiasts should, at the current prices, seek out and buy a discounted bottle of Jicky EdP. As the other comments here show, you may not come to love it as I do, but you need to have experienced Jicky repeatedly to understand much of what came after it. There is a reason this product has been in continuous production for more than 130 years. Why not get your nose on it and find out why? I think you'll be glad you did.

Amazing scent. I ended up on the Jicky path after reading that Sean Connery was rocking this back in the 60's and 70's. This was also the reason I acquired Habit Rouge, which I fell in love with. So, intrigued by the scent and the image of Sean Connery's chest hair coverage while using this scent, I thought, "Let's copy Mr. Connery again and get Jicky". Wow, let me just say, this is an amazingly uplifting scent. Completely abstract, no, I don't think nature produces such scents that we could use as yardsticks and say, "Oh yeah, that smells like such and such a thing". Jicky is a microcosm, to don it, is to enter it's atmosphere, it's world, it's olfactory vortex of lemony delights and an unknown accord, which many call the "baby poo note". Let's be honest, no, it doesn't smell like that, I think people exaggerate when they're up against a fragrance that their nose can't comprehend. It's what I would call a "fresh dissonance", something very much there on purpose. But I repeat, it's a very abstract accord. This is one of the most versatile fragrances I have ever come across (I have the Eau de Parfum), and I should mention I am a male. I read here that it was originally sold to both men and women in Aimé Guerlain’s day, and, so the legend goes, the men wearing Jicky, after frequenting brothels so to speak, “passed the fragrance on” to the ladies working there, not sure if this is just folklore though. And the rest is history. This should really be listed on Fragrantica as a unisex fragrance. Nay, I say, hombres, let us take back Jicky entirely for ourselves,this could be our own unique 21st century statement of laidback yet refined manliness! But seriously, I can think of so many contexts for using this scent: Chilling in my house during a summer afternoon. A refreshing after-shower pick-me-up. A date scent (with a lady I’ve gone out with at least twice, not apt for a first date I think): A contemporary office scent: A sensual post-amatory, lying in bed together scent; Could possibly be used as a “couple scent”, with the two of them wearing it. If you found yourself liking this, I think you can use it virtually any time, any place. Also, if you get a hold of Jicky, you’ll probably be the only person you know using it, so it makes for a great signature scent, and it’s not a challenge to wear, it’s in fact very inviting. I haven’t touch upon the olfactory pyramid here, because really, this scent is art. It can’t be easily comprehended by breaking its notes down, but that doesn’t mean you can’t simply wear it whenever you’re in the mood for an uplifting slap on the cheek. No, it doesn’t smell like cat bum, or baby poo, just a really refined and complex masterpiece suitable for anyone, from just one member of the Guerlain dynasty, all of whom were gods among noses.

I blind-bought Jicky when I first started seriously delving into the world of appreciating perfumes in late 2019 because, well, it’s a classic isn’t it? And besides it stands at a watershed between the past and present, the ultimate definition of modernity. Now we have post-modernism, which aesthetically always references something else from a previous epoch, whether earnestly or ironically. It’s never a clean slate - but Jicky feels like it was worked with no preconceived ideas of perfumery. Jicky to me comes across as one of the freshest, most invigorating fragrance experiences I have ever had. Even now, into my second bottle, that first spritz never fails to make me smile. Could its zingy citrus top notes cushioned by a plush base of Tonka and benzoin (so reminiscent to me of scented Armenian papers and one of my favourite ‘clean’ scents) be the advent of the entire men’s barbershop fougere genre, as debonair an icon of perfumery as a three-piece suit? And yet, it was apparently devised as a women’s perfume, at a time when women were discovering freedom and athleticism in Cycling and women’s fashions consequently evinced a new practicality, taking cues from men’s fashions before relapsing into ornate prescriptive silhouettes just a decade later. Jicky too seems to have been born in this interstitial period of feminine liberty, renouncing the floral furbelows of its predecessors to emerge smelling more of a mood than a likeness. There is something about Jicky’s hesperidic freshness that makes me think of it as my ‘white t-shirt’ scent - for days when I want to feel unencumbered yet stylish and, perhaps, even as handsome as Marlon Brando in a Streetcar Named Desire. It is by no means a surgically-clean freshly-laundered white t shirt, it’s rumpled and a bit sweaty, but the clean sweat of a desirable man, straight out of a warm shower freshly shaved but already perspiring. It avoids the overt sharpness of cologne or aftershave, or the solemnity of deep green oakmossy notes and remains perky all the way down to that gorgeous edible lemon-tart finish. Its dandyish brother, Mouchoir de Monsieur, feels way more dressed up somehow than Jicky; and as such he comes across as more mature even though he is fifteen years younger; he definitely puts on way more airs and cares much more about the fall of his trousers or the barathea of his evening ensemble. Jicky, insouciant, just wants to hop on his bike and go.

[275] Jicky is said to be the world's first modern perfume due to its innovative blend of both natural and synthetic ingredients. It was also initially created with men in mind, but was remarketed as a scent for women due to floundering sales. Thus, it can also be cited as the world's first unisex perfume. It is also the oldest perfume in continuous existence. As well as being an olfactory pioneer, Jicky is also one of Guerlain's masterpieces. I have a small sample of the parfum de toilette concentration that dates from c. the 1980s. It is a complex beauty - truly unisex and featuring a marvellous example of the Guerlinade accord. Jicky opens with bright, fresh citrus notes - notably lemon, reminiscent of Shalimar - alongside aromatic lavender. Soft herbal notes round out the lavender, giving a lovely aromatic aspect to Jicky, bringing it to fougère territory. Jicky serves fresh, herbal loveliness at this stage, but then tranforms as the vanilla note emerges, kickstarting the oriental phase. The famed lavender-vanilla at the heart of Jicky is sublime - sweet, smooth, rich and aromatic - as well as being perfectly, cohesively unisex. Soft spices emerge, along with a soft, powdery white floral accord, complementing the lavender-vanilla beautifully while rounding out the Guerlinade accord. Some soft woody notes add depth, and a hint of iris stands out as it dries down. Jicky's drydown is curiously similar to the manner in which amber spicebombs dry down - resinous, woody and animalic, bolstered by sweet vanilla and spices. It is rich and beautiful, reminiscent of Shalimar in particular here thanks to the Guerlinade accord. It fades to a sweet amber-vanilla skin scent. Jicky's use of vanilla is exceptional - perfectly balanced and nuanced, twisting between the other notes in a cohesive, complementary fashion. This should come as no surprise, as Guerlain is famed for its vanilla, but it is never better showcased than in vintage Jicky in my opinion - even in Shalimar. In a nutshell, Jicky is a bright, unisex scent centred around a lavender-vanilla accord, featuring perfectly balanced fougère and oriental facets. With moderate sillage and longevity, it makes for a beautiful springtime scent. No doubt the current iteration is a shadow of its former self, however. Still, one of my favourite vintage Guerlains. A wonder. 5/5.