Vacances

Vacances is a perfect example of the reasoning behind my ever-growing trepidation in approaching vintage perfumery: an awe-struck crush that grows oppressively into a fixation only fueled by the inevitable doomed nature of its ending, the compulsion of the hunter and the unavailability of the hunted that recreate a never-ending cycle of yearning that longs the way Romeo and Juliet longed, all wrapped into one, with the catalyst of the final stroke of destiny being a small vial of perfumed liquid I obtained from a merciful fragfriend like cyanide from the apothecary. And so it comes, lilacs galore. This is the fragrance that makes me wish I had smelled lilacs growing up. Unfortunately they’re not an easy find in my native, tropical surroundings, and I missed the chance of its fragrance taking roots within my memory and leaving a footprint in my subconscious that would follow me through life. The first time I had myself acquainted with lilacs was outside the very unromantic setting of a dismal brutalist building where they were presented as small shrubs of humble little flowers that gifted the air with this hazy, almondy scent veiling the roses inside of a greenhouse painted in small brushes and seen through soft-focus. I was in love. Vacances is lilacs alright, but utopic lilacs, the sort of perfect, idealized thing you don’t want to profane by familiarizing it with your very humane presence. Hyacinth and mimosa are there as a chorus that bridges the right gaps and underscores at the right moments, like very loyal, professional backup singers in a 50’s singing threesome. To me this is Zelda Fitzgerald in the south of France at the period right in between the gilded cup of the jazz age overflowing itself into emptiness and the antebellum drums of a tumbled down Europe beating their war tune. I can smell Vacances as the flora of the particular time and place as seen through her eyes, a romanticized view of the past but more than anything a romanticized vision of the future, of a big brave new world unknown and ultimately, a cry for hope. Heart-wretchedly pretty.

I've been wanting this fragrance for a while, and boy am I glad I kept looking for it. At first, I thought I had made a mistake. The opening on me is very, very wild-flowerish...you know...that scent you get from flowers on the side of the road that you thought would be gorgeous, but they are just strange and a little sneeze-inducing. That scent. But, that gives way quickly and the hyacinth and lilac take over. Pure heaven. This may be one of the longest-lasting fragrances I own. Nobody has said anything about smelling it on me, so I'm thinking maybe the sillage is not as strong. This is just the first day wearing it. We'll see.... Oddly, one of the fragrances I hate most in this world is Joy...which caused me to hesitate to go after this one. But, then I remembered that I really like Jean Patou's Nacre, so I let my guard down and went for this. I'm so glad I did. I may need a backup bottle!

I never dreamed I'd love Vacances, a frag to celebrate the introduction of paid holidays in France! (I'm too romantic.) But I ADORE it. Perhaps timing is a factor: I received my bottle in the midst of a new appreciation for bluebells; in February in NYC they are the only deeply aromatic flowers for sale in bodegas, and I've been buying them for weeks to fragrance my small apartment. Vacances begins for me with a rush of hyacinth, quickly becomes green, then settles into a lovely soapy lilac. Very floral, it strongly evokes an innocent version of the early '70s for me. My bottle is a mini, one of the complete Ma collection, and I have to control myself not to use it all up! May Thomas Fontaine reintroduce this one, because full flacons are very hard to come by.

The verdant, vernal tenderness of Vacances is like a pastoral dream where all my favorite florals coalesce euphorically in a way that never would in reality. The lilacs and mimosa are blooming at the same time and their harmony is unfamiliar, yet sublime. There are hawthorn trees in bloom, with a carpet of bluebells at their feet, there are sweet peas, sweet woodruff, and melilotus sharing the same bed, and then the heliotrope moves in closer for a good-night kiss. I am absolutely smitten with Vacances. Anyone who has a penchant for spring flowers would likely swoon as I do. [From 1984 Ma Collection mini]

This is a flawless perfume in my opinion, and the greatest green floral of all time. I would kill for the parfum, but in the brief time when it was available, it wasn't within my budget. In 1984 I was a low paid civil servant buying only one or two bottles of perfume a year. The lilacs, the hyacinth, the grassy freshness like opening a window on a spring morning, it's all perfection. I will cherish what I have left and sigh with regret over what we have lost as the House of Jean Patou fades into history.