Normandie

With Normandie, I learned that I absolutely love when an orange blossom accord and carnation accord come together; it's like tints and shades, it makes the hair on my neck stand on end. The styrax in the base reminds me of the aroma of sycamore trees on hot days. There are so many well-read and well-studied reviewers who've paid homage to this beauty that I can't help but to feel an "imposter syndrome" when comparing notes to theirs. The history behind this fragrance and its launch to commemorate the SS Normandie have been discussed at length; salient cultural details have all been covered, and I've been reminded that I could stand to watch more films, novels and study more on the general zeitgeist of the 20s and 30s. I will say this, though—this seems to be the high water mark of my perfume exploration. I am stunned at this Ma Collection version and how it all dovetails together. It could almost wash my cynicism away—almost. Normandie is nearly unassailable, a perfect artifact of bygone luxury to marvel. [From 1984 Ma Collection mini]

I have been collecting modern Patou's for awhile now and thought I should sample some of their vintage offerings. This is a beautiful, tender, and softly sexy perfume. A lovely amber floral that is a bit soapy, a bit woody, a bit floral, a bit spicy a bit balsamic a bit mossy and musky. A very well rounded fragrance, perfect for most events and seasons. Could be a signature. This is a sly smile, a held gaze from across the room. He can't help but approach her and engage in a flirtation. And when he smells this feminine and bewitching scent he will want to know more about her. This is for the woman who is classy but sexual. She is selective in whom she gives her attentions but once approached by the right suiter she is every bit the femme fatal. I would love to own a large bottle of this one! I have to say this might be my favorite Patou yet! Why don't they make fragrances like this anymore?! Normandie is class, sensuality, and elegance all the way...

To commemorate the maiden voyage of the "Ship of Light" SS Normandie, Jean Patou carefully crafted a scaled-down SS Normandie-shaped ship bottle, containing the Normandie perfume formulated by Henri Almeras, successfully keeping up with the voyage craze of the 1930s. Normandie is a light chypre with spicy, powdery carnation (eugenol) as the core note, which belongs to the structural combination of aldehyde-floral-(woody) chypre. Very typical of the thirties. At first, I was sure I caught a trail of galbanum. Below that is the classical harmony of jasmine and rose, accompanied by warm amber, refreshing orange blossom, and passionate ylang-ylang, which form the territory of Normandie. Over time, soft vanilla and benzoin replace bright aldehydes, and the floral fragrance is far away. The base of leather-chypre, Mousse de saxe, helps relieve greasiness and allows Normandie to maintain a touch of masculinity without always being sweet. Standard construction, good quality, not trendy. Normandie, Guerlain Vol de Nuit, and Caron En Avion share a common cultural characteristic, that is, they depict the human yearning for the endless exploration of the endless sea and the unknown sky.

It was recommended to me as a powdery amber, and that, plus spicy carnation, is pretty much it to my nose. That plus–THE PAST. Like Le Dix, Normandie smells dated to me. It’s a time machine in a bottle, going back to a time before my own. Why this smells too old-fashioned to me, and L’Heure Bleue, which also has powder, spice, carnation, and a sweet drydown, does not, is a mystery.

back in the days of yore, so many eccentric things happened when an imprtant perfume was launched: Mademoiselle Carven, a tiny, wee bird-like woman who spoke quietly orchestrated that the entire city of paris be rained on with smell vials of "Ma Griffe" when it was launched, each with a smell parachute attached to it made out of the signature green and white crepe de chine 100% silk lining she used in her famous suits: All of her clothes were tailored for "petite women." She herself stood barely 5 feet tall. In 1972 when patou launched 1000, an army of men in 18th Century livery costume stormed paris in horse drawn carriages and hand delivered the first batch of 100 30ml parfums, all individually numbered as they were through the late 80's, nestled in their curry coloured velvet jewell boxes lined in satin, as gifts to the 100 most elegant women of paris. At the time, only 100 ounces of parfum could be produced yearly. Before it was launched, anyone who was of note in Paris high society was already wearing it. For the maiden voyage of the now legendary "Paquebot Normandie," Jean Patou commissioned a famous metal worker to create a miniature of the ship, which contained in its main smoke-stack a screw-off cap, under which was a glass capsule containing 15ml of a perfume blended by Henri Almeras in honour of this voyage: The interiors of the boat were designed by the same team that did all of the patou interiors: Louis Sue & Andre Mare. Each lady present on the inaugural voyage received one. These heavy, solid nickel bottles are so rare that originals have broken all records at auction: I have one, but it is in very bad shape, seems to have lived ironically underwater most of its life, and the inner glass vial is shattered. In 1985 Normandie was re-blended by Jean Kerleo: It had only been bfriefly marketed after the initial cruise, then disappeared all together. Jean kerleo's version is a very polite symphony of warmth: Carnations, cinnamon, orange blossom, perhaps a tiny bit of clove: It is the epitome of elegance and refinement. Very "Patou" in spirit, it whispers in a very subtle way of privilege and wealth. A waspy scent. One imagines Norma Schearer in "The Women" smelling like this, (While the common-as-mud Joan Crawford reeks of Tabu, or Chanel No5, or something equally repulsive and in your face) It is soft, and delicate, and has impeccable manners. I would say of all the "Ma Collection" series, it would be the most likely candidate for a re-launch, though there is scant hope for this, as Proctor & Gamble, after having bought, murdered in cold blood, then sold patou, as a final gesture of humiliation, or to kick the last nail into its coffin, sold it to a company with even lower standards if that can be conceived of: The same firm that now owns Worth. I imagine "Joy" will end up in discount shops and bargain basements just the way "Je Reviens" did. If you can obtain a sealed bottle of Normandie, online or elsewhere, do it: It would be impossible to find this scent unattractive. It's just that suave: Perfectly inoffensive without being remotely boring or predictable: A soft, warm, comforting composition of riches forgotten from another time: A woman, elegantly draped in bias cut pastel silk charmeuse, with a pure white sable cloak, and satin covered jeweled salome slippers, sitting nonchalantly smoking from a long cigarette holder, dripping in diamonds, hair perfectly coiffed, nose impeccably powdered, amidst the soaring Art Deco interior of the most elegantly fitted out transatlantic ocean liner the world had ever known, barely noticing any of it, because she is sipping daintily on some cocktail, and lost in the revery of her life: That gentle, barely their smile on her lacquered lips, her pearlized, smoky eyelids shut. That is Normandie, by Jean Patou.

le mouchoir de monsieur can't possibly be topped for his review of this superb scent, except that I'd say instead of charmeuse she would be clad in peau d'ange, still bias cut, and her sable would remain a rich chocolatey brown, as white sable would be a poor, dried-out fur lacking in life. i absolutely adore the older patou fragrances. yes they speak of privilege and i imagine that there will be people who refuse to wear them on the principle of refusing to endorse privilege in any sense. but as a privileged person, secure in my status, ican happily wear normandie, just as i can bal a versailles, 1000, joy, sublime, etc., and enjoy the luxuriousness of its formulation. it is hardly as complex as bal, not as woody as 1000, doesn't spread out a blanket or roses a la joy, and - where sublime is just so bloody happy - it manages to keep a little bit of itself in reserve, like a private person, with a secret. it feels like a plush silk velvet robe one just wants to hug close to one's body. and - i find this with all the better (read relying on fewer synthetic or ramped-up stinks) perfumes: the cat loves it. where bal drove him to maul the sheets in ecstasy, normandie elicited a satisfied >faugh!< . one point, tho: on me the styrax blooms very quickly and richly, yet i do not find it above as one of the notes. (c)2013 bluemlein