Bal à Versailles

Rome January 1962, in the dark corners of the huge soundstage of Cinecittà Studios all eyes are on an extraordinary personage. The man is Welsh, and touted to be the new Olivier. With a good ten years of films behind him he has never really hit it big in the movies. Not like he has on the stage where he is considered a god. That is about to change. There is a small commotion in the shadows. He and everyone else on the set turn, and his eyes fall upon the luscious curves of the woman who has just unceremoniously sauntered into the pool of lights in the center of the stage. Sheathed in flowing canary yellow chiffon, her eyes of violet blue spangled with glitter and lined with black Egyptian kohl she is every inch a morsel for a monarch. Her eyes with veiled curiosity explore his handsome acne scarred face. She is not impressed and yet slightly apprehensive of his stage training. He takes in her dark glamour in and recalls being tuned to ice by her dismissive glance ten years earlier across a hot star encrusted swimming pool in smoggy Los Angeles. That was the first time Richard Burton laid eyes upon his destiny in the form of Elizabeth Taylor. This time in Rome was the second. The director, Joe Mankiewicz spoke briefly to both of them then went of to commiserate with the cinematographer and the assistant director leaving them awkwardly alone to make their own introductions. Burton turned and crookedly smiled to Elizabeth. He picked up a cup of coffee and spilled a little as his hand was seized by a hangover tremor. Instinctively she reached out and steadied the cup. Gently her hand cupped his and guided the coffee to his lips. His eyes fell into hers and locked there for eternity. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very pretty girl?” He said. Her heart, imagination and life were changed forever by that simple cliché that fell in perfect calculated grace from the lips of perhaps the greatest Shakespearian actor of his generation. And so it began the scandal of the 1962 which shattered two marriages, nearly toppled a studio and ushered in the cannibalistic tabloid world of today. It was the romance of the century and inspired a generation of sexual revolutionaries. Not to be left out of the action the Pope got in on the act and branded Elizabeth Taylor a “Sexual Vagrant”. Now THAT is a Movie Star! What did this shattering moment smell like? Bal à Versailles is the answer. Many famous women from Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis to Queen Elizabeth have worn it, but none more famously than Elizabeth Taylor on the set of “Cleopatra” when she launched a thousand paparazzo’s in the arms of her Mark Antony. Created in 1962 by Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles is traditionally presented as a female fragrance. Well that was back in the old days of the 1900’s, welcome to the 21st century were such gender identities for fragrance are down right passé. This magnificent perfume fully rounded out by 350 essences is a monster of audacious panache and a masterpiece of design fit for anyone with the balls to wear it. It is bold, and huge in its opening of rosemary, orange blossom, mandarin orange, cassia, jasmine, rose, Neroli, bergamot, Bulgarian rose and lemon. Heavy hitters are the roses and the orange notes. We move in for our close-up with notes of sandalwood, patchouli, lilac, orris root, vetiver, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley and leather. The Leather dominates the heart of the fragrance. If you are a leather lover this is Oscar time at the Kodak Theater and Nicole Kidman has just called your name. When the dry down approaches it is a dramatic movie star fade out. Beautiful notes of tolu balsam, amber, musk, benzoin, civet, vanilla, cedar and resins hold court for the final long shot as Bal à Versailles rides off into the sunset captivating all it has touched with its smoky fingers of desire and fire. Bal à Versailles is a projection bomb. Once you have it on there is no going back. You commit to this one all the way or not at all. The silage is like incense burners pumping purple heaven full blast on Cleopatra’s barge. It lasts for days without the need for “retakes”. It is animalic, dirty, sexy and just a wonder of a scent that has me in its spell as surely as Elizabeth Taylor had Richard Burton just where she wanted him all those years ago in Rome, right in the palm of her hand. FIVE GOLD STARS *****

The Trivial Masterpiece by Jean Desprez Bal A Versaille is a perfume that challenges the wearer to question their assumptions, to explore their desires, and to embrace their contradictions. It is a perfume that celebrates the complexity and diversity of human nature, that acknowledges the beauty and the obscurity, the virtue and the vice, the order and the chaos. It is a perfume that reflects the philosophy of its creator, who said, "I do not make perfumes for the masses, but for the few who can appreciate them." Jean Desprez MY TAKE: unfolds in a dense amalgamation of resinous elements, initiating with a warm, spicy greeting. Subtle bergamot-like sparks add complexity to the cloves, which are initially dominant in a non-vanilllic amber accord. However, the cloves dissipate quickly, making way for the florals, predominantly rose and ylang, which merge seamlessly. The ylang imposes a smoothing of the boundaries, while a non-indolic tuberose and natural orris (Pallida) subtly emerge. As the citruses fade, a musky warmth reminiscent of cumin ascends, marking the midphase. The introduction of natural ambergris, castoreum, and potent civet heralds a dramatic shift. The cumin acts as a transitional bridge for the ensuing animalic phase. This transition resembles the multifaceted, genre-bending nature of Queen's music rather than the linear (yet successful) trajectory of the Beatles. It's complex, evasive, yet radically meaningful. The inclusion of high-quality labdanum abs. and benzoin, intermingled with ambergris and civet, evokes the fragrance of clean, perspiring human skin veiled in resins and lightly dusted with orris concrete. This stage resonates with the contemporaneity of artisanal perfumery, akin to scents like Salome, Musk Chypre, and Cuir de Russie (ALD), vintage Tabu or elements of early 90s Lou Lou all sharing a similarly structured profile. As the drydown progresses, complexities harmonize. The smooth, adhesive musky notes intensify, complementing the powdery, skin-like nuances of orris concrete, culminating in an aroma that resonates universally with pride. A minuscule dab on the wrist, and my entire room smells like BaV! This has been one of my all-time favourite perfumes for a very long time. Pretty much a mostly natural civet bomb with a staggering resin backdrop and a chypre drydown. I have my doubts if Sir J. Desprez relied heavily on synthetic elements. The animalic and floral notes exude a genuine, natural aura, mirroring the authenticity of their actual sources. Hence, the tag of being the "most expensive fragrance" of the 1960s (surpassing Joy) seems justified. This fragrance epitomises the pinnacle of 60s perfumery and still stands as the epitome of the art. Owning the original formulation of the extract feels like an esteemed privilege residing in Bangladesh. Exploring the diverse materials used in this fragrance could indeed generate extensive write-ups. My focus remained on the olfactory journey, skimming reformulations and batch variations. Notably, concentrations with white or yellow box packaging stand out for superior quality compared to the current gold-boxed bottles. Batch variations: Both the original 1968 and 1972 formulations of the parfum share a similar profile, boasting a stronger presence of civet and clove. Interestingly, hints of orris permeate throughout, an aspect conspicuously absent in the cologne. Despite its intricate complexity, the brighter elements manage to assert their presence. However, the Parfum de Toilette takes a divergent path, leaning more towards labdanum than accentuating animalics, creating an almost tamed-down rendition of the inherently bold composition. In contrast, the 1990s EDT I sampled aligns closer to contemporary EDTs, exhibiting a more pronounced vanillic essence over labdanum. There's a subtle resonance with modern Shalimar, an element noticeably absent in the higher concentrations. Among my collection, the EDC stands out as my second most used after the Parfum. It emanates a significantly brighter and more floral aura, coupled with an intensified funk. Interestingly, the animalic tones here bear an uncanny resemblance to the original parfums, albeit lacking the forceful impact, a discrepancy that's immediately noticeable.

When I first encountered this perfume a few years ago, I was deeply impressed by its complexity, yet at the same time overwhelmed by its strength. I never imagined I would wear it regularly. And yet, rather frighteningly, I now own nine bottles of Bal à Versailles, counting both miniature and full-sized bottles. Every single one of them is vintage parfum. Allow me to offer an explanation—or perhaps an excuse—to myself. The first bottles I owned were a tiny 2.4 ml miniature and a 4 ml mini bottle. As I learned more about Bal à Versailles, however, I discovered that it had passed through various owners over its long history, and that its composition had changed along the way. The 2.4 ml miniature I first smelled came in a dark blue box and dated from sometime after the 1990s. The other bottle, the 4 ml miniature, was older—probably from the late 1970s or early 1980s. When I smelled it, I found that, even allowing for bottle variation and aging, it was similar to the 2.4 ml version and yet fundamentally different. (Thin pale-yellow box printed with the rope wrapping design, simple ingredient listing, no barcode, trademark symbol present.) After experiencing the 4 ml version, the 2.4 ml miniature seemed to me little more than a strongly projecting, rather flat powdery fragrance. The older 4 ml bottle possessed a depth and completeness that felt far more accomplished as a perfume. As I became captivated by its scent, I learned that this particular version already belonged to a transitional period, after Jean Desprez and his family had relinquished ownership and the fragrance had begun to change little by little. If this transitional version was already this beautiful, then how extraordinary must the original have been? Driven by that question, I began searching for older bottles in the best condition I could find. Before I realized it, I had built an entire Bal à Versailles collection. Today I own several of the so-called "Bull's Eye" bottles from the earliest era, and personally I consider those early versions the pinnacle of Bal à Versailles. As perfumes, the late-1970s to early-1980s 4 ml bottles may actually feel more conventionally "perfume-like." Their layers are more clearly defined, and their structure is easier to perceive. The earliest bottles, however, create an entirely different experience. Rather than feeling like a perfume resting on the skin, they seem to sink into it and transform the scent of the skin itself. The sense of integration is astonishing. Whether this comes from the use of natural materials, from the artistry of the composition itself, or from some combination of both, I cannot say. The following impressions refer specifically to those earliest bottles. I have never detected the smell of urine or feces that some people describe. However, I completely agree that this is an animalic fragrance. After the initial tidal wave of florals and powder settles, what I smell is something quite unexpected: the scent of that "special blanket" a child becomes mysteriously attached to and cannot fall asleep without. A blanket worn far beyond cleanliness, saturated with the smells of skin, sweat, hair, and breath—human scent itself—so deeply absorbed that no amount of washing could ever completely remove it. It is animalic, profoundly intimate, and unimaginably comforting. If the aristocrats who danced through the night at Versailles returned home still carrying the scent of flowers and face powder in their perspiring bodies, cast aside their heavy corsets and elaborate garments, and collapsed into bed exhausted— wrapped not in a child's blanket, perhaps, but in the soft feather duvet of a grand canopied bed— I imagine this is the scent they would experience in that moment. And now, much like a child unable to part with a beloved blanket, I find myself attached to this fragrance. I even feel uneasy at the thought of being without it.

Bal a Versailles has an extreme beauty that rivals the original Shalimar. It's the most extravagant, fussy, almost morbid fragrance I've ever smelled, extremely pompous, even more so Shalimar. Designed for the hedonist who is greedy for a while and indulges in sensuality. Bal a Versailles is the perfect interpretation of the saying that the most flamboyant is the vulgar. The realistic depiction of aristocrats immersed in music, dance, wine, and beauties, their attendants pull up the curtain with tassel and gold embroidery, and the feast unfolds. When it came out in 1962, Bal a Versailles was a fragrance that was more expensive than Joy. Little is known about its founder and perfumer, Jean Desprez. In 1962, Jean Desprez was already a very large perfume company. It was founded by Jean Desprez back in 1939. The brand has changed hands several times, but no matter which company takes over, the consensus is to keep Bal a Versailles. Because consumers only recognize Bal a Versailles as a representative of Jean Desprez. It's selling well enough that Jean Desprez can run the business with a single item from Bal a Versailles. The fragrances of the time were either not bold enough, lacking courage, or lacking cost. The essence of animal glandular incense is fragrant. After you've tried Bal a Versailles, you'll agree that bonkers is definitely an overused adjective today. Full of strong, full-bodied animal glands, exuding their unique fishy smell. (Wouldn't it be to simulate the excrement and urine in the Palace of Versailles?) Both sloppy and decadent. A smell of moral rot. Rotten inside and outside, the empire will collapse completely in the near future. The sensual smell of civet cats and beavers seems to echo the culture of cheating in the seventeenth century. I'm in a world made by Bal a Versailles. Rich civet, beaver and leather are key to this (animal) section, and maybe some hyraxes, which smell like excrement. The resin base made of patchouli, lilac and amber is at the bottom of the firmness. Animals are like thick plush carpets covering this golden floor tile. The vanilla gives the base a dense and soft quality. Smelly and fragrant. The fusion of jasmine, rose, cinnamon, sandalwood and orange blossom can't wait to explode before it reaches the middle of the nose, indole sings, Bal a Versailles can't be quiet. When wearing it, I have to be in an air-conditioned environment. A bottle of incense in the private room. Are there any women who dare to wear this corset? Bal a Versailles is able to form itself in the chaos of chaos, magnificent and bright, which is what differentiates it from other luxury fragrances. Counting down the fragrances that have given me a profound experience, Bal a Versailles must be one of them. The grand occasion of the ball cannot be replicated, and Bal a Versailles eventually lost to time. From the end of the 17th century to the beginning of the 18th century, the French court was in decline. Aesthetics tend to be rich and ingenious, and art can also be said to be used to show off financial resources. Bal a Versailles is idealized art. Movies and dramas cannot convey the sense of smell truthfully. Words have this kind of magic, as if they would float out of a book. Kouros is not as feminine as Bal a Versailles, and Shalimar lacks the intricate ornamentation of Bal a Versailles. Bal a Versailles's sense of the times is its unique hallmark, and unlike Shalimar, it is older, less realistic, and nostalgic. It should have appeared in history, it is a fragment of history. I feel the ghosts of the past attach to me in the form of fragrance.

Bal a Versailles is a must-try if you fancy vintage perfumes, and I would suggest a must-try (along with other vintage scents of note) for anyone who is truly interested in the art/craft of perfumery. There are good reasons why some of the older perfumes remain sought after or in current production! And even if, after wearing a scent a few times, you decide that it's not one you enjoy, there is still an educational process that occurs during the experience. As in wine appreciation, or in trying new cuisines, our palates are broadened and our minds opened to new things; new notes/scents or flavors become part of our mental and sensual vocabulary. This is a good thing, not something to fear or approach with apprehension... BaV has a strong opening. If I say this, it is easy to see how the first couple of moments after applying BaV might send animalic-averse people running for the nearest sink! But a little patience will reveal something lovely. The first notes burst upon the nose in a cloud of musk and civet, underpinned with an almost candy-sweet scent which seems, as far as I can tease it out, to be a combination of the orris/iris root and the lilac and neroli. It quickly becomes very, very powdery. That is more off-putting to me than the animalics, as I'm not overly fond of powder notes. Wait. Breathe. Somewhere between 5 and 10 minutes into wearing, the gorgeous resins begin to appear, transforming the scent into something luscious. Benzoin, tolu, a very rich amber accord, a cognac-esque vanilla, fine woods---cedar, sandal---and some vetiver layer with the previous notes, changing them from a strident clanging of disparate scents into a warm, beautiful composition. All harshness is gone, the muskiness, sweetness and powder tempered into something beautiful and civilized, though with still a feral heart. I have a vintage EdC version, and the musk in it is rather extraordinary. If you appreciate good musks or civets, this is a must-try in the older version. Even if those are not your favorite notes, persistence may be rewarded if you like rich, complex scents. Think of the opening as the cacophonous tuning of an orchestra; you wouldn't think of leaving the concert hall because you know that will be followed by the exquisite sound of the actual music---the opening of a perfume can be similar, bearing little resemblance to the symphony that follows in the dry-down... BaV is eminently wearable today. I would say it is the great-grandmother of Mona di Orio's Nuit Noire, which I also love. Sillage is moderate on me, but definitely noticeable. Others may find it heavier. Duration is excellent. I plan to try the current formulation, but fear it cannot match the quality of the older one---it would be a hell of a find if it did. This is a magnetic, seductive, deliciously overblown, yet elegant perfume. Edit: the new version is, sadly, disappointing. Sweet as candy-floss, and lacking the animalic counterpoint of the old one. It was too good to be true...

[875] I have long wanted to try Bal à Versailles, this 1960s amber classic. Thematically, it harks back to the 1700s, given its name - it is reminiscent of powdered wigs, heavy face paint, questionable hygiene practices and the decadent ball gowns of the era - instead of conjuring up the era of its release. The bottle with its mysterious miniature Goya-esque painting is both charming and intriguing, and seemingly this was a favourite of Jackie Kennedy, according to one list I read. I bought a vintage miniature of the parfum de toilette. The scent inside the my sealed bottle is utterly beautiful. Bal à Versailles is an opulent, old-world oriental, dense with florals up top, becoming increasingly dirty and animalic as it progresses, with a rich, resinous amber base permeating it throughout. It is sweet and balsamic at times, medicinal and woody in places, with herbal nuances and powdery florals throughout. BaV opens with powdery rose, bold, sweet and realistic. Medicinal herbal notes bring to mind old-world toiletry habits, and orris root brings to mind the copious use of face and wig powder of the era. Some tart citrus adds freshness, and sweet white florals develop on my skin, namely orange blossom and surprisingly clean jasmine. There is a soft spicy edge, adding bite to the florals here. The animalic amber accord develops in the background, with a hint of musky, fecal civet evident. It is not as blatant as in Eau de Lanvin, where it stood in stark contrast to the citrus accord. Here, it is shrouded in dense florals, woody notes and balsamic amber notes - it adds an edge, but is more nuanced. It becomes quite medicinal here, with woody notes emerging alongside animalic amber, and powdery florals remain. Sweet ylang ylang follows the initial rose-white floral accord. Hazy, soapy lilac follows, bringing to mind silk ballgowns covering the unwashed bodies within. The woody-amber accord comes to the fore as it dries down, sweet and resinous yet musky, leathery and animalic. Rich and resinous, it is complex and beautifully formed - the dirtiness adds a carnal quality. Patchouli adds an earthy counterpoint at the late stages. There is a surprising smokiness too. It is dense and dark, opulent and decadent, vintage in style, but palatable to modern noses. It fades to an earthy, musky skin scent eventually, powdery until final fade. Sillage is strong and longevity is long-lasting. Made for autumn/winter evenings. A warm, rich, powdery amber beauty, BaV is unisex by modern standards and surprisingly wearable for a conceptual vintage scent. I'm surprised by how much I love this. I wonder how the current version compares. 4.5/5.

this is the apex of perfumery, forever, because it cannot be replicated no matter how hard one tries. ingredients - many of the most crucial ones - have been banned or are too difficult to find, and the total cost would be astronomical: $1,238.29, as per the usinflationcalculator site (and assuming that labour costs had not risen (hahaha! as if!). i've read the recent reviews and have this recommendation: always try to buy a sealed bottle, preferably an unopened box. years ago i wrote an ebay buying guide about this perfume (no longer available - one day they pulled the plug on all of the guides and stupidly i had put my copy on a now-inaccessible bit of electronics) - even i was defrauded. here's why it can happen - empty bottles and clamshell containers are for sale on at least two sites, and who knows how many more have been found in boot sales etc. takes little imagination to visualize someone cynically buying up empties and filling them full of substitutes of the real perfume. if someone is selling an "unopened" ounce-size (1, 2 or 4) either in or posed beside a clamshell, ask the seller to photograph the neck of the bottle to show that the baudruche is intact. this hand-applied membrane used to be put around all perfumes to ensure an airtight seal. i don't know who still uses it - if anyone. a good photo will show a film that covers the lip of the bottle, and the metal wire will not have been tampered with. you can find appropriate pix of the baudruche online. the real, the most nearly original iteration of the perfume, is from the mid sixties to the seventies. boxes are white or dark blue for eaux, yellow for eaux and extrait, though it seems that sometimes the boxes were left over from a previous run. never are the orig. boxes foiled. the foil is around genesis (florida) juice. it is a pale reconstruction - not sure what they did as i am not a parfumier. but they gutted it - not that it doesn't smell good enough on some people. this last point - different scents on different skins - applies to all perfumes so it is not absolute that altered version b is worse than version a. however, the most recent so-called baV was "recreated" for a hedge fund, i believe (some sort of investors) and presented in two versions "so irresistible we couldn't decide which to go with" - never got any, but by all accounts i read, it was representative of its position as a completely misunderstood, bowdlerized, version of a pinnacle of the perfumer's art. (c) 2023 bluemlein

It was strange to go back and read my old review. I think the issue was partial anosmia to civet. I could smell the hoarse texture of civet, but not the urinous or warm qualities that make it so pleasant in perfumes. My thoughts on Bal a Versailles have changed completely. Though I seldom wear it, I love it. This is a very dense and sophisticated release, I think there are more notes than what Fragrantica has provided. The opening is overwhelming, there is a lot to take in. A little bit citrusy, but more notably a buttload of dried French herbs like basil, thyme, and rosemary. The heart is subtly floral but more overtly powdery and woody. The leather note is a more old fashioned style, dirty and smoky but rather soft and supple, very similar to the leather note found in Shalimar. The ambery vanilla base is the true star of the show. The more this perfume progresses, the more dense, balsamic, smoky, powdery, and animalic it becomes. The opening is a bit challenging, but the drydown is worth it. After reading several reviews singing its praises, I badly want a bottle of the parfum, I'd love to smell a smoother and more floral version of this release. I wasn't witness to the time period, but as someone who has spent the past few years smelling their way through history, Bal a Versailles seems rather anachronistic for the 1960s. The prevalent style of the 60s was moreso crisp, soapy floral chypres (Y, Calandre, Fidji, Caleche, Climat, to name a few). Bal a Versailles has more in common with perfumes from the 1920s and 30s. Imagine this release lined up alongside the likes of Shalimar, Habanita, Tabu, Shocking, and Kobako. It fits right in. I've heard it said that Jean Desperez composed this as a glamorous throwback release, I find it believable. If you had not already known, a bottle of this perfume was found among Michael Jackson's possessions after his death. My guess is that Elizabeth Taylor, the last golden age starlet, shared her love of the last old world perfume with him. Very touching. A fragrance this bold and carnal suits the both of them.

This is going to be contrary to most reviews here. This fragrance is not offensive, like at all. Yes it smells dated and far from any contemporary fragrance of today, but it's a very pleasant fragrance. It opens with a harmonious concoction of florals; rose, iris, jasmine, ylang ylang, and others that I am not familiar with. All canvased across a musk background, and holding them together is a resinous amber. In the dry down, I get a good dose of that sweet and earthy patchouli. Just heavenly! I can't decide if I get any leather in this fragrance or if it's just one of the darker florals, but I certainly don't get any kind of spiciness. Not to sound cliche, that this is a "grandma" scent, but I think my actual grandmother did wear something very close to this fragrance (if not the same one) when I was younger. However, that's not to say that this is a strictly feminine scent, because to me it is unisex. I honestly do not know what Civet smells like, but this fragrance does not strike me as animalic. It's just a beautiful powdery floral and amber fragrance. Very classy and elegant. The name and bottle design are spot on! Funny story, I was looking for another fragrance on a perfume site and I accidentally stumbled upon this fragrance. The design of the bottle is what actually sold me on it. I did not look up any information or bother with any reviews; I just blind bought it then and there. I assumed it will probably be a vintage sort of a scent, and it is, but it is still quiet unique. Once I received the fragrance and tested it out, I turned to YouTube and Fragrantica to see what others thought, and to my surprise, everyone seems to find this fragrance challenging! I keep seeing adjectives like "polarizing" and "skanky" and "not for the faint at heart"! Where is everyone getting all this? I asked some friends and family members for their opinion (people who are normal and not a fraghead like myself) and everyone found it pleasant. Not mind blowing by any means, but not repulsive either. Just a nice, classy, somewhat dated, beautiful perfume.

Review for the Eau de Toilette: I’m yet to try the pure parfum extrait of BàV but the EDT that I have is nothing short of exquisite. I don’t find it to be particularly polarizing, dirty or “skanky” per sé, I can detect the civet but for me it is perfectly embalmed in the resins and musk and I get a furry animalic quality more than cat pee from the civet—she feels like she’s purring off your skin. The florals I feel are subdued—the iris, ylangylang and a balmy, humid jasmine being most prominent on my skin. The opening is herbal tempered by light citrus, powdery rose and a beautiful and thick orange blossom. To me, BáV isn’t as vulgar as people suggest I find it to be heavenly in scent and an extremely pleasant wear. The comparison to Tabu... I find them to be quite different, Tabu feels quite harsh and astringent, prickling the nostrils almost—and there’s a smokiness from the incense, in BàV there’s more of a powdered balsamic, woody and musky backdrop. This is opulence but also complete comfort. A glamorous soirée or rainy day at home cocooned in your favourite blanket. Warm and enveloping but equally as decadent and regal. Golden and aglow. A delicately balmy, resinous, powdery, furry animalic fragrance of yesteryear but can certainly find its place in today’s world. I absolutely adore Bal à Versailles for everything it is. One I will always try to find bottles of. Update 26th January 2024: I’ve tried the pure parfum extrait I am shook. My breath was snatched from my lungs. Indolic. Balsamic sweet, luxurious and plush, velvety vanillic, opulence. Everything the EdT is but syrupy, where the EdT purrs, the parfum has a growling undertone. Here in the extrait there’s more of the herbal nuances shining through on my skin, and something mossy. This is a scent that makes you feel yourself. Wow wow wow. WOW. I’m captivated and enamoured by this wonderful tiny bottle I’ve acquired. AND my large EdT!

Based off of a new formulation, produced by Genesis, clear plastic lyre cap. After reading extensive reviews, I realize this is one of the least-favored editions of this fragrance. I have a vintage EDC on the way, and I hope to buy a bottle of the vintage PDT soon. This version is not excellent, but I see what it attempts; I hope the vintage will prove more potent. Longevity seems to be around 4-5 hours after a few sprays on the self. Medium sillage at first, but after around 10-15 minutes, it becomes much more intimate. It has a very interesting performance: After the opening, it disappears almost entirely for about 20 minutes, before resurging slowly like when your radiator begins to turn on in winter. Opening has an almost medicinal quality that has been described in the more modern formulations, of preserved flowers, herbs laid about a dried bouquet of jasmine and neroli. The opening is dominated by the rose, dusty and aged, that hasn't lost its romance over time, but never veers into too-sweet territory. While the opening fades, the rose rises and falls, occasionally making itself known, but often succumbing to the more grounding elements: Leather, resin, and endless musk. As the scent evolves from floral diplomacy to suggestive sensuality, the rose continues to add a delicate charm. This works wonders with my skin; as it dries down, it becomes something subtle, and almost smells like something I'm naturally producing at one point or another. I can only imagine what this perfume must have been in the past. I look forward to my vintage EDC arriving, as well as the PDT I know I must inevitably buy. But BaV, even in this formulation, is simultaneously sultry and regal. It plays footsie under the table of a five-star restaurant, an inquisitive side-eye at the opera, knowing damn well that beneath heavy corsetry and gowns, this wearer doesn't have any undergarments.

This perfume is B L E N D E D. What a wonderful journey through a time and place where you didn't smell 'notes,' but instead, you had a scent. Just 'a' scent. Does it smell 'nice'? No, it f*£%ing does not. But when you want to look your best, do you wear 'nice' clothes? When you met that friend that sets your evening on fire for the first time, were you drawn to them because they were 'nice'? Was the best wine you ever drank, 'nice'? The best sex - was it 'nice'? I hope, for your sake, not. The civet in this is nowhere near as raucous as some might fear - it's not as animalic as Kouros, for example, or even maybe Givenchy Gentleman (1974). It starts with some civet and some indolic qualities, though the indole goes rapidly. It develops into a surging, breathing warmth, bathed in amber light - those balsams, resins and saps. Just wow... it glows, it blends, it wreaths you. The only other really significant element in the structure is something 'powdery' - which in theory, could be orris root (iris). The florals are barely there - way, way back in the composition. Some of the 'florals' that people are mentioning in reviews are, I think, misreading of resins as florals (some resins can have a peppery rose aspect). I'm a man - works perfectly on me, and it would on a woman too. It's all in there. And it can be had relatively cheaply on ebay. Get a bottle that's been kept in its box if you can. Just wow. PS the opening is imitated by Ciara by Revlon, though it's different in the drydown. But for a cheap modern imitator, it's fun. I also see a relationship with EL Youth Dew - they don't smell strictly "alike" but the occupy a big, warm, balsamy-spicey space, and were created only 5 years apart.

Recently I had the good fortune to win a 1 oz flacon of the parfum from the 1960s, still sealed in its box, for $63 on eBay. For a couple weeks, I couldn’t bear to cut the gold cord and peel off the onion skin; it looked so pretty as is! I was even entertaining thoughts of reselling it...but that all changed when I opened it yesterday. I had to use a few drops of alcohol and vaseline to ease the stopper out but when I finally did...WOW...the scent filled the whole room...it was a psychedelic experience! I was overwhelmed in the best way. I often get headaches from smelling decades-old perfume but this was just pure ecstasy. Thousands of flowers dripping with molten sacred resins, and the richest civet, both buttery and urinous... I must say that Bal a Versailles smells very old. As in, older than 1962...I think one of its strengths is that it is so very unusual among the other great perfumes of the 60s. It smells like something Jean Desprez would have created in the 1920s when he was formulating such masterpieces as Crepe de Chine. In the original parfum formula, it is so rich and heavy—definitely comparable to old Shalimar and something like Weil’s Zibeline. I would say it is far more comparable to those perfumes and others of that time than, say, Cabochard. There is a real languorousness to it, and a darkness that implies wild, wasteful abandon...like the kind indulged in at Versailles before the fall! I plan to treasure and USE my old bottle until every drop of delicious deadstock juice is gone. It should take quite a while as one drop behind each ear (sprayed from a tiny decant vial for maximum effect) has incredible sillage and lasts on me forever...until I shower it off!

Brighter and more greener than in the hellish years, aldehyded florists were reliving a second youth in 1962 thanks to the new molecules and foundations created after the war. With Bal à Versailles, Desprez seems to want to distance himself from commercial successes such as Madame Rochas, Chant d'Aromes, Capricci and Calèche. Thanks to his very personal style and his mastery, he will squeeze more eye to classic florientals like Caron Narcisse Noir and Patou Chaldée, but revisited from the all-round patchouli of Youth Dew. Inspired by the Versailles Mirror Gallery, it will distil a powerful and refined nectar that can capture the spirit of the sumptuous feast of the palace, among prickly dwarves that revolve in crinoline, gold stucco and coated woods. Hard to describe Bal à Versailles as a heart-head -bond because after a hint of citrus and neroli in his head, he releases his baroque symphony of strawberries changing now with the silk of iris and orange blossom, now with the decadent sweetness of jasmine and ylang-ylang, now with the creaminess of sandal Mysore and benzoin. Wearing it is a continuous discovery for the kaleidoscope of imperceptible sensations that reveals: the almost medicinal spice of carnation and cinnamon, the herbaceous bitterness of rosemary between the inked lines of oak moss or the sunshine that stretches over waxed parquets, or still the dangerous saphir of the gray amber telling of stables and stallions over the flowerbeds of Petit Trianon. Although altered to less fidelity, the current version continues to shine with its important sillage, such as the coming of a big diva.

This perfume literally makes my heart sing, I have so many bottles (too many to count) including all concentrations with vintage parfum being my absolute civet/skank drenched favorite followed by the parfum de toilette circa 1980 - 90's, then the eau de toilette & bath oil then lastly the powerhouse cologne. I just adore the lyre shaped parfum flacon that houses this dark, pungent,musky golden hued elixir vitae...Oh stop, I'm having a *BAV* moment "lol". seriously this is one awesome fragrance & thankfully enough was produced to see me off this mortal coil, no worries there??, folks who love this perfume know exactly what I'm raving and ranting about...this perfume contains practically every absolute & essential oil known to science both animal and vegetal/botanical, the parfum literally takes my breath away, it is that stunning!!!!! as I write this review I'm expecting a delivery of yet another 29.5 ml. flacon from some far flung exotic country on the other side of the globe, one can NEVER have enough of this infamous juice that is ~~BAL A VERSAILLES~~ Hallelujah Jean Desprez... NOW Ain't that the truth!!!!!! PS. One day later and I've ordered another sealed vintage 2 fl.oz (59 ml.) parfum flacon with coffret in perfect condition, a great addition to my backup stash... :) fingers crossed... UPDATE. It arrived, in all of it's fabulousness & glory, these 2 oz. parfum lyre bottles are becoming rare to find now, almost full and the juice is the colour of liquid gold, also included original yellow wrapping, gold brocade coffret & silk sealing twine, can't wait to open this one :)

What a lovely, soft, deep fragrance. I don't know what everyone is talking about as I don't find this skanky at all. The animalics are so well blended I can't even detect them. Maybe my nose just isn't sophisticated enough to detect it, but I smell nothing dirty here. I don't think this scent would offend anyone, even a fragrance adverse person, as its a pretty intimate perfume, meant for you and those who near you. Anyway, that is what I think. I purchased a 1 1/4oz. Parfum de Toilette shaped like a musical instrument (cello, bass?) with a glass ball top. I cut the cord and almost couldn't get the stopper out it was so tight in the bottle, but it was worth the struggle as it really kept the scent nice and fresh. It smells like the day it was bottled. I'm picking up resins, amber, flowers, incense, LEATHER with a capital L, vanilla and nice, soft, enveloping musk. What a complex creation. I think it's wearable anytime, anywhere, and I don't think it's very dated either. Actually, I think the leather note sort of modernizes this scent. The only drawback I have is with the bottle. While beautiful, it is a dabber, which makes it hard to apply. I used a Q-Tip to apply as I don't want my skin oils to degrade the perfume but that is wasteful. The cotton absorbs a lot of the scent - more than can be applied at one time without becoming overwhelming. I'm going to have to decant some of this into an atomizer to get the full effect. I now want to try the edt and the pure parfum. That's down the road. For now, I am just going to enjoy this beauty.

Diehard frag heads know full well the legend of Bal a Versailles, the pomp and circumstance, Roja Dove, Michael Jackson, the whole nine, so I won't regale you as to all those details. You'll easily find them elsewhere... I am just going to give my very own personal response to this icon: marvelous. I can't compare to older formulations, I won't bemoan performance of "SPL" because that's not how I roll. I know full well now that a lot of this has to do with perception, and often perception is flawed or swayed, or the individual develops this almost pathological obsession of preposterous proportions, sort of akin to the "FMO" malaise. However, in my mind, in my heart, I smell the depth, spirit, and history when smelling this, even in, dare I say, this current formulation. The sacred and profane collide here: roses, lilac and jasmine gussied up, leathered up, then dirtied up. These flowers have entered the 'back room,' if you catch my drift. It is as if Knize Ten and Royal Bain de Caron had a gay marriage. The civet note is a trained kitty but still gets its tail into some business, and the old fashioned rose note is a keystone to all the tension and release, dissonance and consonance in the development of Bal a Versailles. The dry down is a sheer, smoldering, yet animalic base of resins. I definitely recommend that serious fragrance enthusiasts invest in a bottle, even if for reference. UPDATE: The 80s formulation EDT has even more "profane" to collide with the "sacred." Even more so with the parfum concentration.

I got a small 4ml parfum vial. It is a yellow box with a design that is tied with a string like a gift box. REF is probably N 157U. Anyone know when this was made? This perfume is really amazing... I can't forget the shock when I first took a little bit of this perfume on my finger and put it on my wrist. It's almost a mass bouquet bomb. It makes me dizzy. It's a powerful concentration never found in modern perfumes. I am simply overwhelmed by the large number of fresh flowers that have jumped out over decades. When the initial impact of the flowers subsides, castorium and animal leather are added. Then there is the woody scent, then the incense-like scent, and the floral scent is still very strong. I don't know what kind of flower it is anymore. It's almost chaotic, but beautiful. and powerful. And last note... Musk, civet, musk, civet, and vanilla. Extremely powdery. It's so powerful and luxurious, yet soft and sweet, it feels like sleeping in a thick, fluffy bed with a canopy. I'm not very good at powdery, but for some reason this last note of Bal a Versailles makes me feel some sentimentality. I didn't get the impression that Bal a Versailles smelled like an old lady, probably because I had few memories of contacting elderly women who wore perfume. Rather, someday I would like to be an old lady who can treat such a beautiful and powerful perfume as her own skin. It's definitely not the light scent of today, it's from a bygone era, but I'm happy to own this historic piece of olfactory art.

The comments about Bal à Versailles and Ciara are interesting. I own both, with my Bal dating from around 1970ish - so, very vintage, not reformulations. I bought the Ciara in the hope that I could cut down on the Bal usage. Nope. Maybe recent incarnations of Bal resemble Ciara - I couldn't say. But absolutely not vintage "real ingredients" Bal. Ciara starts in a way that superficially reminds me of Bal à Versailles. But then, it becomes more acrid, showing off its (very respectable) drugstore roots. It doesn't go anywhere. It isn't joyous. It's just a big smell which, if it changes at all, becomes sharper and sharper. However, if Ciara goes cheap and high street, Bal à Versailles goes rich and palatial. 10 minutes in, they're simply unrelated. I've written a proper review of Bal somewhere down below, so I won't rehash all of that. Flatter me - search it. But the depth, reach, evolution, creativity of the Bal... Just staggering. The warmth and complexity are not matched by anything else I know. (Maybe vintage Shalimar?) Bal à Versailles does not deserve its fearsome reputation at all. Anyone who's wrecked an elevator ride with something with "elixir" in the name, or faux niche mass-market scents, will certainly find the evolution through the balsams and resins in Bal new, but not threatening in terms of strength. It's not at all animalic in the 'clichéd' way people might think. It's really a vast, extravagant amber. I love this, and I love Youth Dew too. This from a 6'3 200lb male.

Very vintage. Opening is citrusy, aromatic, and floral. After it dries the base notes become detectable, it's very balsamic and sweet. At this point I mostly smell vanilla, a soft leather, and the ambery, balsamic notes. I still don't know where civet falls into the equation. The whole thing is very powdery. My initial impression has me thinking this smells like a drugstore version of Shalimar. To be perfectly honest I can't think of a situation where I'd opt for this over Shalimar. From a foot or two away it smells decent enough. A warm, powdery, sweet, balsamic concoction. Up close, it's raspy and sharp. I'm sure this was fantastic when it first debuted, but it seems like inevitable reformulation has made this smell... flat and lifeless? I don't know how else to phrase it. Intuitively I get the impression that this was once a lovely amber, and is now a shell of its former self. Reportedly a favorite of Elizabeth Taylor before she started her own line of fragrances. I have a difficult time imagining someone as pointedly glamorous and sensual as Elizabeth Taylor spritzing this, in its current form, on her body. I was hoping that buying a sample of this and wearing it a few times would help me better understand civet, but it has only left me more confused. I think I might be anosmic to civet. This doesn't smell remotely fecal or animalic. I'll wear it out a few more times to see if that changes.