Opium (1977)

Before I get into my review, I must firstly note that it's based on the gold-capped bottle with the embossed, Far East-inspired design. The batch code confirms it's from 1995. I believe it's a Sanofi Beauté edition that, due to YSL's recycling of older packaging, wound up in a Parfums Corp box with a corresponding label on the bottle. Either way, it's still a 90's edition, still from the last of the "good years" of Opium, and I'm happy to have it in my collection. The moment I sprayed this, I was hit by a blast of raw mustiness, for want of a better word. I did expect to encounter some 'off' notes, though, as top notes don't tend to stand the test of time the way weight-bearing base notes do. Despite the box being sealed (or possibly resealed), the 'Opium Eau de Toilette' print on the bottle was partially faded. There was also a quarter-inch gap between the juice and the bottle's shoulders, but it did take some pumping to get it out. Regardless of where she'd been before, it was clear that she hadn't seen the light of day for quite some time. After a good few sprays to clear the staleness and allow her to breathe, the character of this fragrance started to emerge, and I was immediately reminded of the 2015 reformulated version of Estée Lauder's Cinnabar: a clove-driven spiciness with soft woods and a sandy type of warmth, but then Opium began to distinguish itself a bit better as it woke up even more, and where the modern version of Cinnabar has a spiced white floral type of pureness to it, this '95 EdT has a distinctive aldehydic side that made me think of raw linen initially, before my mind settled on the image of feeding cotton sheets into a rotary ironer and the scent the heated sheets release into the air. However, instead of the freshly laundered sheets going on the bed, they're folded into a wooden chest of drawers that has small muslin bags filled with dried spices in each of its compartments. It's also worth noting that, unlike Cinnabar's slightly rougher, more textured edges, this retains its smoothness right throughout the drydown. I realised quite soon into getting to know this fragrance that, although it could easily be a winter warmer (as many amber fragrances are), it could just as easily shine on a cool spring/summer's day, as it swirls around you like a breeze between sheets on a washing line. As it dried down even further, I started to pick up on some of Youth-Dew's characteristics as well, but mostly through Opium's background resins that allow it to go deeper than today's Cinnabar, but not quite as deep, nor as dark, as modern YD. It does bridge the gap, though. I also found this stage to be quite amusing, as I finally understood Estée's frustration with YSL and how, in her opinion, Opium was just "Youth-Dew with a tassel" - literally speaking, given the tasseled exquisiteness of the original 1977 flacon, which I understand is a notably different fragrance compared to the one I'm currently reviewing, as are all of Opium's incarnations. Over an hour into having this gem warm on my skin - and also warm up my skin, which I can only attribute to the cinnamon in this - the divine sandalwood started to come through. If I'm not mistaken, there is still a trace amount of Mysore sandalwood to be found in this edition, and I most certainly picked up on its smooth, sensual character that really shone against the backdrop of modern perfumery's take on the note, be it synthetic or the less refined Australian version. It's soft but not exactly delicate. There is nothing sharp or bombastic about this EdT; instead, it retains a subdued, but still distinctive, type of classiness. Over 2 hours in, and she grew slightly hotter, as well as spicier. There was a noticeable tingle on the skin, alluding to the natural ingredients used - and the cinnamon, of course. The fragrance just kept getting warmer, and at one point, I accidentally transferred some onto my nose and lips from my arm - and, you guessed it, the tingle was amplified even more. It wasn't unpleasant, however, and it was the first time I'd ever experienced a fragrance in a '3D' kind of way. I was elated to experience a scent that felt more real, fleshed out, as if actual thought went into it. It dances on the skin, and to a degree, on fabric as well. I noticed that the sillage is moderate and leaves a beautiful trail as it radiates within 6 feet or so. Some fragrances create a bubble, while others flirt with the room, and while I'm aware of how this fragrance warmed up and shifted on my skin, I couldn't help but smile as it moved ahead of me and introduced itself to everyone sharing the space. After around 3 to 4 hours in, it became softer, more sensual, and the woodiness began to dissolve and reshape itself into a satin-smooth kind of powderiness. The sandalwood-driven sense of refinement was still detectable but in a finely ground type of way, and it was soon followed by a subtle vanilla that wrapped itself around this stage of the drydown like a luxurious silk scarf - one that was coloured Opium red with an exquisite oriental design. This side of its sensuality bordered on sexy in a subdued manner. The warmth retained its subtle erotic charge, but it sat at a simmer and never bubbled over. After 4+ hours of wear, it developed a spiced honey accord, which made its texture feel thicker, more syrupy, and I came to know that after so much time of it having a dry, smooth and woody feel, it does indeed turn into a sap. But as it cooled, true to its nature, that sap fossilised into a golden amber resin after having consumed and immortalised all that remained within it as it dried down. This lasted a good 18+ hours, but was more or less a skin scent after the 10-hour mark with the occasional waft here and there throughout the following morning. It was a joy to know she was still around me, alive and breathing, as I went about my routine. I also sprayed some onto a cosmetic pad and left it in a tumbler glass, and that lasted for around 3 or 4 weeks, releasing the occasional waft as I walked past. The fading embers of this fragrance were soft but unique, and right before it disappeared from my skin entirely, a slightly buttery sandalwood briefly reappeared as a ghost with the powdery vanilla acting as its echo, reminding me of how the quality in perfumery has diminished over time, mostly thanks to IFRA restrictions and cost-cutting. It felt opulent, haunting, as well as quite bittersweet, given how all previous incarnations of Opium are essentially relics that won't be around forever. On a more positive note, however, I feel very fortunate to be able to enjoy it and immortalise my findings on a platform such as this, especially considering how my EdT in particular is celebrating its 30th birthday this year. It's still loved and appreciated by all who understand it, and though Opium's heyday is firmly in the past, all of its forms and flankers (not including Black Opium, of course *ahem*) live on in our wardrobes, on our dressing tables, as keepsakes gathering dust on our shelves, and most of all, in our memories for as long as we live.

Opium! Den of pleasure, carnal delights, ecstasy. Forbidden euphoria. Blockbuster since day 1, Opium is (was) the unparalleled success of Yves Saint Laurent. Cleverly following the footsteps of Youth Dew (Lauder once said it was ‘Youth Dew with a tassel’), Opium landed like a bomb in 1977 taking the whole world by surprise. In a time with no social media and focus groups, Opium alluded to the thrill of the forbidden and the state of mind; guilty pleasure and erotic ecstasy via the heavy spice route sweetened with exotic flowers. The Opium den that Yves conjured and which caused an outrage in the Chinese-American population, banned in many Arab countries and sold without its name on the bottle in some European countries, was nothing but hedonistic pleasure in liquid form. Opium didn’t endorse drug abuse, something that was increasingly the theme du jour in the late 70’s, nor did it condone it. It simply alluded to the state of trance and sensuality one feels under the right circumstances. Opium was either understood and immediately adored, or rejected like the plague. True vintage Opium, with all its forbidden notes, ingredients and allergens is one of my most loved and cherished fragrances. Nothing, absolutely nothing comes close. And sadly, this makes it extremely hard to replace. Long review/homage based on various bottles, splash and spray, from 1977, 1978, 1980, 1981 and 1984. When Opium launched, Yves sought to create the complete opposite of Y, his debut fragrance which was a beautiful and elegant aldehydic chypre. He wanted a heavy, languid, extremely powerful and sensual oriental that would make women go crazy, and men completely surrender to its charms. He enlisted Jean Amic, Jean Louis Sieuzac and Raymond Chaillan and together they created a legend that catapulted to success before its official launch, resulting in stolen testers, ripped publicity banners, sellout within hours of hitting shelves, all the while causing a little dementia in the population. Oh, Opium! Heavily reliant on cloves, carnation, incense, Mysore sandalwood, resins, myrrh, opoponax, adorned with orchids, rose, lily of the valley, jasmin, peach, plum, orris and mystified with labdanum, castoreum, bay leaf, pepper, balsams and musks, Opium was like the breath of a raging dragon. Deep reds, golden ambers, the flowers of fire; the flowers of life. Up to this day, words elude me when talking about Opium; I find it so masterfully blended, so true to its meaning, that I cannot (and don’t want to) analyze it or dissect its notes. It’s inevitable that some of them pass right under my nose and are easily detected, but Opium is such a state of mind that the real pleasure comes from surrendering to it. Yes, it’s spicy, floral, aldehydic and mysteriously powdery in the drydown, yes, none of what was used freely to create it can be used with the same abandon today, but why break it to pieces? If for nothing more, the pleasure is smelling it all day long and watch it’s evolution, how it caresses the senses and how it embraces the ones lucky enough to love it and adore it. Opium is highly polarizing, and for most people, it stirs up memories; any kind of them. Good, bad, the ones who wore it, the elevators it permeated, the boss that doused in it...love it or hate it, this most recognizable magnum opus cannot leave you indifferent. Consider yourself lucky if only you can even smell it in your mind. While Opium does not go bad, it does mellow with age. Vintage bottles still pack a punch with enormous sillage and 24 hour longevity, but they have lost the fresh sparkle that was there in 1977; they have mellowed and concentrated in a way that it smells richer and more dense. The patina of time, but still unbeatable. And my personal opinion; up until the early 80’s, Opium was not reformulated, maybe only having suffered minuscule changes. It was so unbelievably expensive to produce that it was simply inevitable. By the late 80’s/early 90’s, the changes were a bit more pronounced but it was still itself. At the dawn of the new millennium, Opium started to suffer the consequences of cost cutting, change of taste and society’s evolution, and by 2005/6, Opium was not Opium anymore. L’Oreal simply murdered it completely, and what has been selling under the name Opium since then, bears nothing, zero relation but the name. It should have been discontinued altogether. While future generations will likely never have the pleasure of getting to know this gem, anyone that has had the pleasure of experiencing it is extremely lucky. And I thank my lucky stars and eBay for allowing me to have the pleasure of dowsing in it. My sillage is free of charge; no thank you needed.

Opium, launched in 1977, was an extraordinarily controversial fragrance for its time. Even its name, "Opium," refers to the narcotic substance extracted from the green seed pods of the poppy. At that point in his life, Yves Saint Laurent was living through a period marked by excess, drugs, and addiction. Together with Pierre Bergé, he envisioned a fragrance that would embody exactly those ideas: addiction, desire, hypnosis, and obsession. In a perfumery landscape dominated by elegant, well-mannered aldehydic florals, this true olfactory "drug" was born. The launch was surrounded by controversy. The fragrance faced numerous boycotts for its direct references to Chinese culture, particularly in light of the historical context of the Opium Wars between China and Great Britain. And yet—or perhaps precisely because of that—Yves embraced the aesthetic even further. The bottle was inspired by traditional Chinese lacquerware, while the advertising campaigns, photography, and entire visual identity explored this orientalized fantasy. Much of this was fueled by Yves's artistic fascination at the time, particularly following collections such as Les Chinoises for the Fall/Winter 1977 season. It was within this chaotic, psychedelic, and highly controversial atmosphere that one of the most iconic fragrances in history was born. It became an immediate commercial success, once again cementing Yves Saint Laurent's name in the world of perfumery. I was reborn in the darkness... and honestly, it would be almost indecent not to love this. The opening is an oriental explosion: warm, dense, and overflowing with spices. Clove immediately commands attention, nearly dominating the composition, while a subtle citrus sparkle attempts to brighten the initial darkness before quickly being swallowed by the fragrance's overwhelming richness. As it develops, cinnamon takes center stage in an almost hypnotic way. Warm, enveloping, and irresistibly sensual. There's also a nuance that reminds me of aldehydes, adding an unusual brightness amid all that density. The patchouli feels dry and slightly camphoraceous rather than earthy or damp, creating a beautifully sharp, green character. Then comes the base: the resins. Everything here is crafted with remarkable richness. Castoreum appears subtly, adding an animalic touch reminiscent of warm skin and clean perspiration, amplifying the fragrance's carnal nature. The myrrh is simply addictive. The incense is incredibly prominent. It genuinely feels like stepping into an esoteric shop where strong cinnamon incense is burning, surrounded by spices and ancient clay artifacts. The experience is almost ritualistic. The drydown remains centered around this magnificent blend of intense cinnamon, incense, and resins. Tolu balsam contributes a warm, smooth balsamic facet. Ironically, there is sweetness here, but never in a gourmand way. The vanilla works alongside the resins merely to soften the composition without ever turning it into a sweet fragrance. Occasions? Cold evenings, elegant parties, and any moment when you want to be remembered. This fragrance is unique. Splendid. Addictive. A true olfactory drug. Easily one of the greatest perfumes I have ever experienced.

Vintage EdT c. 1986 Opium caused quite a stir when it was released. On the U.S. side of the pond Estee Lauder was pissed off. Ms. Lauder and Co. thought Opium was a blatant copy of Youth Dew, and true they do have a lot in common. Upset enough that the following year they released Cinnabar for the one-up. On the Euro side of the pond, Opium’s strength and durability was unheard of, concentrated to what, today, would be considered an EdP (or even, dubiously, parfum) level. Couple that with its controversial name, grand and operatic nature yet massive diffusiveness, and it put the Eastern side of the Atlantic into a frenzy. I side more with the Euro proponents on this one. Opium is glorious. It’s not glorious anymore, but that is a different post. However, I do see why Lauder bemoaned and hissed at its creation. It is very much like Youth Dew, which I also love, but it is sufficiently different - mainly that it has a French chic and silken texture that isn’t present in the more rough-and-ready-Wild-West and even stronger Youth Dew. Aldehydes abound throughout the perfume’s life, creating a soft and powdery texture that presents everything through a haze. Enter into the den, if you dare. The fruit, spice, and herb opening is luscious. The bitter orange zest, the hesperidics, the bay leaf and clove - they create this beautifully fragrant cloud that smells of the most exotic of North African or West Arabian dishes. Positively mouthwatering. You want it, you’re jonesing, badly. Then, rising up like an opium cloud to whisk you into inebriated ecstasy is a carnation forward heart, creamy and peppery and superbly musky, accented with smooth, round, aromatic cinnamon, a big slug of elegant and fruity roses, and myrrh smoke. Heady. Man, is this perfume heady. Be ready. We’ve been transported from earthly deliciousness to the mind-warping divine. We’ve OD’d though. We’ve done too much. We’re not just high, we’re slipping into an afterlife under a warm and massaging blanket as one of the best amber bases in the last fifty years takes us on a magical transport into eternity. This base is everything: sandalwood, cedar, labdanum, civet and musks, vanilla and tonka, patchouli, incense, vetiver, leather - everything that has ever been in an amber base is here but instead of a morass it’s a beautiful mosaic where you can’t tell where one tile/note ends and another begins, but they’re all there in perfectly rich, elegant, airy, celestial harmony. I’ll forgo any drug or addiction references beyond this point; I can’t reduce this perfume to such depravity. But there is something about it, something that is “difficult”. Anyone who has owned this perfume in a real-deal vintage version will tell you that it is absolutely unconditional love, but sometimes it’s a bit much. It’s enormous, distracting in the best ways, grabbing hold of you with a death grip and not letting go, and there are moments when you say “I love you, but I can’t”. Living with Opium is a lot like having a toddler: there will be many times you “just can’t” with your toddler but even in those moments if anyone tried to take it from you, you’d kill them.

-It is a scent of contradictions, like the ancient incense of vespers and the fleeting musk of an one night stand. -In small doses, Opium is not incompatible with dining, clubbing or romance. Used excessively it will ward off flies, humans and evil spirits. -A spectacular incense of monstrous proportions. -The smell of Marco Polo's clothes as well as come back at Venice from his journey along the silk route. -I particularly love to apply a single, small squirt before bed. The smell is just heavenly. And all night I dream of the hanging gardens of Babylon... -I know why this perfume is called Opium. It is totally addictive... -Good lord, this is chemical warfare of the highest concentration! -God, Opium... what are you doing to me? -Is it possible not to be consumed by its beauty? -This is a sin. It must be.And the name, God that name! The whole thing is criminal. -The Opium is the most glamorous and dangerous girl ever appeared from Paris, seducing one feeble admirer after the other as she moves along. -Holy mother of god, this is amazing!!!It is just to die for... -OPIUM feels more like an impressionist painting about life and love on the ancient Silk Road. Truly you can't appreciate what an oriental fragrance really is until you've smelled this masterpiece. -Oh god, I literally felt like this perfume had a death grip on my throat. -Even after 32 years on the market, this scent still screams "OBEY ME." -I like it because it doesn't try to be likeable. It's just there. -I do believe that this perfume wears you... -While I do not wear it regularly, when I do, I intoxicate.Seduction in a bottle... -This is what I imagine the spice from Dune smells like... -It caused such a stirring in my loins that I'd track and hunt a woman wearing this down forever. BRILLIANT! -Treat yourself to the parfum. There is nothing in the world like it. -Opium is intoxicating and heady stuff. Something no wicked, decadent girl should be without. -It is my default fragrance. The one I want to be remembered for. The one I want to be buried in. -When it comes down to Opium, I'd have to say I'm a total sucker for it. -Dear God!!!What on earth is this???How could you ever create such a temptation??? -Opium is timeless and magical, and it is still THE Oriental. -Proof that there is a heaven. -I admit it, I'm hooked. I always heard that opium was highly addictive... -This stuff should be illegal... -It doesn't offer any favors,you don't have to just like it,you have to love it and if it loves you back,it will be a best friend for ever ... -It’s a bit of a creepy feeling, like meeting one of your old boyfriends, or someone’s walking over your grave... -Opium is the most magnificent antidote to the waves of pubescent pop princess, foody/deodorant-style, mass-made scents that rule young fragrance buyers as the 20th century closed and the 21st century begins. -I thought I bought a scent,I got Lilith in a bottle... Do I need to say more?...