L'air du temps vintages: pre- and post-reformulation

Gorgeous 80s-era bottle (100 ml EDT) by Lalique

Created in 1948, L'air du Temps by Nina Ricci is one of those historic fragrances destroyed by reformulation at some point in the 90s.  Reformulation can occur for a few reasons. Most often the motives are hypochondria- newly discovered allergenic properties of old ingredients- or crass- classic fragrance components are replaced with cheaper modern analogues. L'air du temps was the former.

Its recipe was rewritten in the late 80s or early 90s. Benzyl salicylate was a significant percentage of the original formula, and has since been discovered to be an allergen. Its reduction in the fragrance (supposedly) caused a huge shift in character. Some perfumistas claim LdT is now totally unrecognizable. Funny enough, many people are anosmic to benzyl salicylate, but they can still sense the effect. I find these issues of chemical composition and olfaction fascinating. When I found a vintage formulation available for swap, I pounced. The gorgeous bottle didn't hurt.

Of course, ensuring that you get a vintage formulation is an entirely different problem. This post at perfumeshrine was immensely useful in dating my bottle. My EDT splash with the classic 'amphora' shape and gold cap indicates it was manufactured in the 80s. My wonderful swap partner provided a sample of the 90s reformulation for comparison.

Oakmoss. Photo by Liondelyon on
wikimedia commons

At first dab I found the opening notes of the vintage formulation revolting. I couldn't quite put my finger on it- a hint of sticky unguent and fat stuck in my nose and made me queasy. I  wondered if my bottle had turned. Top notes go first in vintage juice. "Gone off" tends to manifest as a whiff of rancid butter- butyric acid- which smells of vomit, feet, and spoilt milk. I definitely didn't get 'vomit' from the top notes, so it is just my nose's palate which triggered that reaction. Upon second sniff I get a heavy dose of spice rounded out by a waxy floral and mossy base. It smells of other daring perfumes born in the 1940s. It is fascinating how the scent of "sexy female" changes fashion over time.

In contrast, the 90s formulation manifested as a ghost on my skin. I picked up a little waxiness (maybe jasmine?), but the fragrance jumped almost immediately to spice. This spicy top note is probably an interpretation of the famed carnation accord. It also has a hint of that green dagger I'd called 'oakmoss' when I encountered it in 'Bandit' and 'Cabochard Gres'. I have not learned to appreciate this punchy green note. The LdT reformulation has no longevity and fades to nothing in less than an hour on paper. The spicy-sharp middle and base notes last longer on my skin.

The vintage formulation is simultaneously airier and longer lasting than the reformulation. I read that the effect of the now-restricted benzyl salicylate was to make the florals 'shimmer', so perhaps that's what I'm picking up on. The nausea-inducing, nose-stabbing accord seems to be the oakmoss, upon further examination. Oakmoss renders a perfume almost unbearable to me. I suppose that's why I'm a "modern fumie", not classic or sophistiqué. Oakmoss was once a standard part of women's fragrances. Fragrantica provides more information on oakmoss as a perfume ingredient here.

My final verdict:
Yes, the vintage formulation is better. No, it still isn't my style. I can appreciate it as a precious objet d'art, but I'm unlikely to select it in the morning when I am picking through my perfume wardrobe.

The final question is this: do I swap this ground-breaking fragrance, or keep it to for the lovely bottle? Decisions, decisions.

Notes from fragrantica: (top) carnation, bergamot, aldehydes, rosewood; (heart) jasmine, carnation, orris root, cloves, spice; (base) musk, oakmoss, cedar, sandalwood, benzoin.

How it all began

1970s-era Guerlain 'Mitsouko'. A cherished find, even without the label.

fumie (n): A perfume or cologne enthusiast; see also: fumehead, perfumista.

I've often read that a perfume obsession progresses in stages, not unlike the stages of falling in love.

Lust
First, there is the initial spark and attraction. Perfume is exciting, luxurious, and kind of sexy. Perhaps you intend to find a signature scent. Instead you are embarking upon a quest. Your explorations most likely begin at a department store or Sephora.

Attraction (infatuation)
As with a new lover, thoughts of fragrance consume your waking hours. You read, sleep, and eat fragrance.  One perfume is not enough! You are no longer interested in finding a signature scent because you have developed monomania. This is internet shopping blind buy* prime time- the desire to develop your fragrance palate exceeds will power.

Attachment (love)
Perfume is a comforting, companionable presence in your life. Blind buys are rare, and your collection becomes more carefully curated. You know you are in it for the long haul.  (for the "Now Smell This" take on becoming a perfumista, click here)

---

Piguet's 'Bandit'

Mandy Aftel, in her wonderful book "Essence and Alchemy", proposed the idea of scent-guided meditation. She focuses on finding a specific fragrance, a distinct sensual pleasure, to clear the mind. Not unlike tantic sex or yoga, perhaps. I am too rooted in my corpus for traditional meditation, but ruminating on scent is something I understand.

When I wear Serge Lutens' 'Chergui', the sweet, smoky incense lingers at my wrist all day. I get a surprise jolt of pleasure whenever I reach up to adjust my hair and catch a whiff. I press my arm to my nose and inhale deeply. It is this unmitigated sensual delight that drives me to seek out new compositions.

As I am exiting 'stage 2' of fumie development, I decided to start a blog as a small mercy to my beleaguered friends and boyfriend. I am going to share my musings and enthusiasm for new smells and sweet hauls with a self-selecting audience: the internet. Who but another fumie could appreciate my excitement over finding vintage Mitsouko and first run YSL Champagne at a thrift store? Who else has the patience to hash out the different flavors of vetiver?

This blog is going to be a collection of my explorations and research into the world of perfume. I will have some reviews, but I cannot make a claim to objectivity. There are some notes I reliably enjoy. Amber, incense, benzoin, and leather are all scents I find addictive. I also tend to take Coco Chanel's position on floral fragrances** for women (that is, I do not like them), and I just can't do aquatics.

I named my perfume blog "The Modern Fumie" because I love many classic fragrances, but I have struggled with others. Specifically, Chanel 'No. 5' and Robert Piguet's 'Bandit' are historic and all but unwearable on me. I cherish their places in perfume history, and I am confident they wear beautifully on other women, but I am unable to appreciate them in any way beyond the cerebral. And a purely cerebral stimulation is not what I'm chasing with perfume. I want to be moved in body and soul.

And now for another controversial reveal: the first perfume I truly loved was an 'Angel' flanker. I'll write more about that next week.

YSL 'Champagne', before its rechristening as 'Yvresse'

*Blind buy: the purchase of an unsniffed perfume, a decision often based on listed fragrance notes and reviews. Frequently (but not always) leads to disappointment.
** famous (apocryphal?) quote: "A woman shouldn't smell like flowers. A woman should not smell like another substance in nature. She should smell like herself, but better."