Hello, fragrant folks.

First up, an apology, as I should have done this write-up days ago, but real life intervened, as it so often does :rolleyesold:

On Tuesday night I had the privilege to attend an Osmothèque lecture on the great Edmond Roudnitska, author of so many classics - Femme by Rochas, the Diors (Diorama, Eau Fraîche, Diorissimo, Eau Sauvage, Diorella), Eau d’Hermès and Le Parfum de Thérèse. It was like attending perfume 101, except that professionals from the perfume industry made up most of the audience. In the driving seat were Olivier Maure and Michel Roudnitska, the perfumer’s son.

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They had rummaged around in the archives and produced both documentation relating to Roudnitska’s career and some original recipes. As they set out the story of Edmond’s career, we were treated to a series of seventeen spills dipped the relevant perfumes, all of which had been re-created especially for this event. I cannot stress this enough: for this evening, two perfumers had spent hours researching, weighing and compounding perfumes from scratch, several of which are not even held in the archives of the Osmothèque itself, so that the audience could examine Roudnitska’s work afresh.

What struck me was soon Roudnitska appeared to have hit on a very personal signature. Right from the time when he left De Laire, having composed more than 800 formulas and bases, he produced On Dit for Elizabeth Arden, developed during the War, in which his spicy cumin ‘patte’ was very much in evidence.

We then proceeded through Arden’s It’s You (a stunning floral aldehyde/oriental, made for his wife) to 1943, when he met Marcel Rochas. Femme was the result of this encounter. What stuck me upon smelling the re-creation was how different it was from the Femme I knew, not to mention the one you can purchase today. It’s softer, less animalic and less chypré. Apparently this was initially sold by subscription only, which allowed for some degree of control over ingredients that were hard to come by in wartime France. There was no Prunol in this early version.

I’m going to simply list the perfumes that followed without going into too much detail:

- Rochas, Chiffon/Mousseline (1946); Rochas, Mouche (‘Beauty Spot’ rather than 'Fly'; 1947)

(I think it’s fair to say that there’s a turning point in 1947, when Roudnitska meets Christian Dior.)

- Eau de Roche/Eau de Rochas (renamed to avoid trademark complications with Roche; 1948); Rochas Moustache (1949), which was partly inspired by the smell of scalp, apparently! I was told it was still available. Is this true? Rochas Rose (1949), fresh and heady at the same time. Here we see Roudnitska perfecting his treatment of the soliflore (see Diorissimo). Eau d’Hermès (1951), which the great man used himself. Dai Mo for Lubin (1954; magnificent jasmine); Dior Eau Fraîche (1955); Diorissimo (1956), which is of course a lily of the valley reconstituted using jasmine and orange blossom, among other ingredients- including a note of forest undergrowth; the rare and rather fabulous Verlande for Roger et Gallet (1956), which was marketed as a cologne splash but has as much body and structure as you could wish for: it’s a bracingly camphoraceous lavender with a generous dose of rosemary; Eau Sauvage (1966); Diorella (1972), with a note almost like acetone, and an intense but fresh jasmine; Dior Dior (1970); the rougher, more aromatic Eau Sauvage Extrême (1983), which Roudnitska was under pressure to create for the US market, much against his will; and the oddity Ocean Rain for Mario Valentino (1990), in which he succeeded in creating a fresh, very herbal aromatic fragrance avoiding the use of the omnipresent calone.

It’s worth noting Ocean Rain is the first perfume Roudnitska produced following a bicycle accident in which he lost his sense of smell. At this point comparisons were drawn with Beethoven, who of course continued to compose despite encroaching deafness.

Needless to say, we concluded with the glorious Parfum de Thérèse, which - as we all know - was original composed for Roudnitska’s wife, but which Michel (despite its very personal connection with his mother) allowed Frédéric Malle to use for his nascent collection, especially since the perfume would proudly bear Roudnitska’s name on the label. This was an issue Roudnitska felt passionate about during his lifetime, feeling the lack of trademark protection keenly. Another little-known fact: this formula was supposed to have been the original Fidji for Guy Laroche. At the moment when the perfume was bottle and ready to be shipped, the distributor got cold feet, judging it too innovative, with its melon/cucumber and peppery jasmine, and pulled the whole lot. Voilà! At least we got to enjoy it in the end.