Les Cahiers Secrets

The half-remembered embeds itself more deeply in the heart than the fully illuminated. Her silhouette warm-black against the cool fading summer-violet of the darkness over the stone balcony, over the buzz of the boulevard on the edge of the park. Little light—little sounds of the city. The edges of all objects in stark relief. Only Her—Her frame, how Her long curls sloped down over and through the periphery of Her velvet dress, she fades-almost into all surrounding, like the pigment shadowed over her eyes and applied like lover’s chalk over the cut of Her cheekbones. Would that she would step across the threshold again, the flush would have matched my own natural cast as one petal follows another. She was my reflection, I almost remember; in summer-silhouette; thin-stemmed glass engraved in each of our hands, aloft in slender arms—in velvet, my violet dress just torn on the seam of the sleeve, among the callas; in the heat of the summer. Before, I half-remember, more than one bottle of peppery wine, warm-dark light-spilling through and over the thin-glassed rims, slender fingertips; in the calla room, red disappearing into the darkened floor, into the powders of accumulated hours; red between Her lips—our lips, our teeth. Over the sea, she said, was where Her providence would place Her—Even then I could only half-remember where she intended to cease her flight. So many cities made of stone, weathering all seasons; where low-light is wont to cradle desire; and I surely told Her I was wont to follow. The movements of a reflection beg the mirroring of the reflected. My mirror before me; then-and-there I wanted for nothing else. This-too I almost remember: laughter following these little words, laughter at the lily-light heart of the girl who spoke them loosely—sitting like a statuette in the calla room, pale among the petals; desire moves in one direction only. The wine-glass emptied, the last drops perspired into the ether. Now the flora lies dry beneath my feet; autumn rolls over the window from the still-darkened room. I let my fingers fall over my low-lit face and inhale the taste of Her echoes and there my heart bleeds dark as I almost remember—

When my grandma died, I refused to go to her house. In my mind I could clearly see it rotting, the wood of the pink cupboard in the kitchen slowly falling apart, spiders crawling in from the windows and braving further into the house with each passing day, dust collecting on the surfaces we would sit on and eat on and laugh on. When my mum called me to ask if there was anything of hers I wanted, I immediately said “There’s a book in her third drawer, at the back, under her camisoles.” She stayed quiet on the line for a few moments, but after a couple of hours, the book was in my hands, still in the familiar plastic envelope I remembered, with a dried rose stuck under the cover. My grandma and I were incredibly close, the skipped generation helping fill the gaps created by shame and guilt and differences in parenting styles. Something she never told any of her children, and kept a secret from her husband, was that she had kept a book her first lover gifted her, with a rose still in it, over 50 years later. She burned all the love letters, they never talked again, she fully committed to her marriage and her life, but she couldn’t get rid of that book that first brought them together. I don’t know why I decided to ask for it, whether to make sure her children wouldn’t find it, to keep her secret for her, or maybe to finally tell her story, but that’s what Les Cahiers Secrets smells like to me. While my grandma’s scent is long gone, I can picture the same powdery fragrance as she opened that drawer, the silk of her nightgowns, the floral notes from the pressed rose, as if I could still smell it after all this time. It’s intimate in the way secrets are, and speaks to long gone desires and seductions before my lifetime.

I really enjoy Les Cahiers Secrets, but it isn’t an easy experience for me. On the one hand, it truly is lovely and girlish, seemingly entirely innocent — all powder and iris and lightweight musks. It’s inoffensive, unobtrusive. However, as soon as it dries down, there is a lot — A Lot — of cumin. I don’t necessarily find it animalistic, but it really is salty and sweaty. There's an almost mineral, sea-salt-like bitterness to it. As soon as this note appears, all fantasies of innocence go out the window. It is an extremely, overwhelmingly sexual scent to me, perhaps specifically because of the false innocence it presents at first: white, frilly cotton underwear with a bow, clean, powdered skin turned sweaty, damp hair at the nape of the neck. I may be too impressionable and pay too much attention to marketing, but I wore it to the office once and felt downright inappropriate the entire day, even though no one said anything. For some reason, L’Eau Papier by Diptyque scratches the same itch for me, even though they don’t have much in common at first glance. Perhaps it’s the same savory, salty note (sesame seeds in L’Eau Papier) against a backdrop of transparent, soaring musks. The difference, for me, is that the office-friendly L’Eau Papier feels thoroughly sanitized and much, much less carnal, and Les Cahiers Secrets is infinitely more old-fashioned, perhaps even slightly outdated. LCS is also less dense, there’s more space to breathe. That being said, I LOVE it. A truly unique take on powdery vintage musks.

On my vanity sits the bottle, curved like a woman's hip, its golden orb catching the sunlight peeping from the slightly opened curtain. Jouissance. When I press the atomizer, I think it smells exactly like an intimate, vintage secret unfolding in the air. To me, the first smell is this sudden sting of cumin, and it has this human warmth to it. Almost like the scent of warm skin flushed with a fever. But it quickly softens as it mixes with a beautiful lily. It smells like old journals bound in worn leather, its pages heavy with secrets never meant to be whispered out loud, only felt. In the dark. As it settles into my skin, I get this incredibly heady, vintage, sexy cloud of powdery notes and sweet heliotrope. It feels like crushed velvet and expensive face powder on a nightstand. It feels like a pair of sheer thigh high silk stockings on my legs. It feels like a 1930s mansion. It feels like a lover watching me from the edge of the bed. The base notes are what linger the longest on me, it’s this deeply intimate earthy blend of rich orris root and a sensual musk. To me it smells like skin after a long afternoon spent behind drawn velvet curtains. It is sweetly illicit, deeply personal, and dizzyingly romantic and sweet. It feels like a lover whispering you smell of old Paris. I think THAT, is exactly what it is. Les Cahiers Secrets. It is the romantic scent of an era where love was a dangerous, naughty, exquisite art form. Instagram: @notmyfirstlobotomy

(gifted) my favorite fragrance from jouissance's collection – a timeless work of art with an antique, enrapturing quality. it is so truly pleasing; that heliotrope & powder center that may read as old lady to some shines atop the nostalgic musky base which contributes to les cahiers secrets' familiar, memorable essence. cumin is in the driver's seat, and as iffy as i am about white florals, each of these notes come together to an unexpected climax. overtly soapy florals be damned – pinching those petals with subtle spice does wonders. i am personally reminded of my grandmother's cluttered vanity, stacked with old perfume bottles and a sea of dusting powders in little crystal dishes. a picture of femininity in motion; unperturbed by age, both beautiful and primal. animalic fragrances always make me feel like i'm hoarding dirty secrets to my chest and i could not be more pleased with this one!

Have you ever had an orgasm from just kissing? Have you ever made eye contact with someone and felt your clit vibrate? Have you ever read a passage in a book that made you want to hump the arm of your chair? Or heard music so intoxicating that your whole body longed to meld into that of another? If so then this fragrance is for you. If not, there’s still time. This is like a super femme and sensual riff on the scent Musc Ravageur. Don’t get me wrong, it’s subtle and unassuming, one of those “your skin but better” scents. Nothing about it screams seduction. Yet the heliotrope and cumin bring in a creamy tenderness and warmth that evoke female arousal, the scent of sweet secretions. Silk slips, a well thumbed copy of Nin’s Delta of Venus, laughter, 69 on the unmade bed. No one will smell you until they get close enough to inhale your skin. This is your secret, your whispered seduction.

Smells like a beautiful woman's bare skin after a night of unbridled passion. Used silk stockings hurriedly strewn on the floor. Her skin is warm and a little sweaty, in a 'salty skin' kind of way. Feminine and powdery, but not too heavy or dusty. I can vividly imagine Janet Leigh wearing this at the beginning of the movie Psycho while she is cavorting with her lover. It has all the graceful poise of an elegant 1950s lady who isn't so demure between the sheets. I really love it. If you want to amp up the raunchy animalic aspect, try layering it with a spritz of Unspoken Musk by Francesca Bianchi. They complement each other so beautifully. Expensive, but wonderfully presented. Longevity and silage are both pretty good. I'm getting at least 8 hours of wear between applications.

Whilst these things are very personal, I do not think this is a sensual/erotic/sexual fragrance though I don't tend to respond to fragrances or anything else in this way regardless of a brand's marketing. I think this is airy, blousy and smells like the Yardley iris talc my very beautiful grandma used to use after her bath alongside the original Oil of Ulay pink bottle lotion (smelled completely different to today's Olay version). The powder and heliotrope dominate throughout for me. Comforting, elegant and slightly out of time in the best way possible. It's very pretty, delicate and what I imagine Audrey Hepburn would have smelled like. I've been wearing it for serenity support during a very challenging time at work. One of a few my bf loves.

Ohhh godddd... I never, ever, ever review—always content to lurk around. I live in the US so the cost of the Collected Works (sampler of all their perfumes) was outrageous and I couldn’t justify blowing $80 on three small vials. I’ve read Delta of Venus and am a fan of Anaïs Nin and smelling like an old person. Naturally, I caved and blind-bought an entire bottle of this. Powdery, intimate, sexy, subtle. Vintage, but not geriatric. The parlor of a (mostly) clean 1930s cathouse. Lipstick, stockings, silk sheets. Tommy Shelby’s favorite whore. I can’t get enough of it; I just wish the bottle were bigger.

There’s an urban legend that pink lemonade was invented when a circus performer wrung out their red tights into a vat of lemonade to make it look more special for customers. My mind instantly goes to that when I smell this. Not because of a citrus note but because it feels like someone emulsified a ballerina after a performance and bottled the essence of her body. Out of all of Jouissance’s perfumes this one definitely feels the most like erotic literature. Like laying back in a bathtub while journaling about a recent love affair, or writing a long cursive letter to someone full of secret innuendo.

This is sexual, not sexy. There are no contrived bells and whistles, no leather and lace, just a purely carnal warmth that blooms forth from the skin. Extremely intimate sillage (which fits with the concept of the scent), but surprisingly good longevity. Desperate for a full bottle of this.

really pervy and cool. the florals are soft and pretty, but there’s this underlying, very... bodily...? sort of skankiness to it, like you didn’t wash your hands after jerking off. i smirk to myself every time i smell it. like a churchmouse with a dirty little secret.

Smells like a beautiful woman slept here. The powder notes starts very clean, but the musky dry down remind you of her humanity and how close to you she is. She might not be interested in you sexually, but its enough that you're close enough to be in her bedroom.

wore this around a man i was seeing and the flavor of it kissed onto my lips from applying it on my neck was so erotic i took a pregnancy test just in case it made a baby

Had to get a full bottle. This is how I find out I love cumin ig lmao. Just smells so intimate and sexy like skin to skin contact after holiday sex with the lights off

Oh this is so lovely! Delicate musk - the lily really comes through. It smells like Mugler's Over The Musk but with an added floral dimension.

Les Cahiers Secrets was inspired by the French writer Anais Nin’s diaries, which makes sense once you try it. It’s a powdery, lily-inflected cumin — and smells like skin and sex. But there's an interesting tension between the skin and sex aspects. This is skin beneath layers of powder and makeup, skin that belongs to someone on a mission to charm or seduce. But once the seduction's hit its mark, the artifice disappears. You're brought back to a tiny bedroom, with a ratty bra thrown over the back of a chair and crumpled sheets that have probably gone months without a wash. Whatever makeup's left melts away with sweat and heat. The perfume becomes touchingly intimate, a surprising combination of raunch and tenderness. I think what makes this perfume stand out for me is that it feels like it's about sex from a decidedly female point-of-view. The scent is as far as you can get from Victoria's Secret-type sexiness; there's no airbrushing, no hard abs, no blowdried hair, no hotel room. In short, no male gaze. Instead, it's asking me to picture a soft white stomach, a small bedroom in 1920s France, and some very messy bedhead. Which, to my mind, is so much sexier.

A nesting scent, of rumpled silk and bare skin. Musky, powdery, fleshy. One of the greatest joys of perfumery is experiencing the play between notes, and I would have never guessed to marry lily and cumin. In Les Cahiers, the nip of the spice and weight of the musk keeps the florals and powder from coming off too precious or squeaky clean. The talc-y tone to this fragrance echoes of a compact rouge I used to steal from my mum, so she really pulls at the nostalgia heartstrings for me. Radiance stays skin level and she lasts about five hours on my skin, eight on my pyjamas. (Though I feel like I should be wearing a vintage silk dressing gown for this). You shouldn’t judge a perfume by the bottle, but Les Cahiers dishes exactly what she displays. Fortunately, it’s a gorgeous vessel. Mental Snapshot: A nocturnal pastel. A prewar provocateur reclining in a candlelit bower, sheets littered with fountain pens and powder puffs. Her planner is laced with poetry and profanity, all in impeccable calligraphy. It's Masterpiece Theatre, but with full nudity. tl;dr: dishabille darling 💄🔏

I bought it instantly after reading @maxxxine’s review down below here. She described this fragrance perfectly. The musky dry-down reminds me slightly of the Body Shop’s purple bottled Musk body spray. It’s feminine yet... somehow unisex to me. I don’t find it erotic at all. There is a hint of burnt leather too it seems. I don’t know if i like the scent. It’s smells rather masculine to me. For what you get (50ml full bottle) including shipping and custom clearance taxes it’s definitely overhyped. I wouldn’t have payed more than 80$ for this type of fragrance tbh. I don’t know.. i might change my mind after some testing and edit my review later. Bye for now ⋆ ̊。⋆౨ৎ ̊

I thought I liked intimate scents, but wow does this require you to shove your whole face in to get a good whiff! I suppose there is a very light sillage happening but I think I am going noseblind. About 30 min after spray, the drydown reminds me of le labo labdanum 18 which I already own! This would be redundant for my collection but it is quite lovely.