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helshades · 5 years ago

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Tip of the Nose: Eaux Thicker Than Water

Today, in our great series on the history of perfume(ry) that nobody really asked me for, I reply to a simple comment and manage to make it into a very long lecture on perfume concentration. Stay yourselves with flagons!

Eau de toilette or eau de parfum, perfume is never sold pure but diluted in a water-alcohol solution. In principle, the percentage of actual perfume determines the commercial appellation. In principle.

In any case: mind the French! Your reputation may depend on it.

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@katbelleinthedark:

Yes good. I have a lot of eau de toilette(s?) as I'm #poor&cheap and I never wear that as I always forget to use it. I once had the same bottle for 13 years.

Well, I occasionally wear perfumes from bottles issued in the 1970s and 1980s, so if the old bout of snobbery catches you off-guard sometime you can still pretend it is ~vintage~ juices you’re keeping. I’ve just placed a bid on EBay for a ‘perfume extract’ bottle of Jean Patou’s mythical Joy (definitely not the horrid recent Dior release of the same name) that was left unopened in a shoebox for decades, meaning there’s no way to tell if it’s actually wearable or not. I have issues. Mostly with my banker. [Edit: as it turned out, in a cruel twist of fate, that the bottle in question was actually a dummy. The seller, overtaken by doubt, finally broke the seal open and confirmed his worst suspicions. No Joy for me this year.]

In any case, it will be eau de toilette or eaux de toilette, not eau(x) de toilettes or you’d be suggesting that you’ve been lining up jars of toilet water on some cupboard shelf for years—not that I be judging, but still. Others might.

Although, technically, les toilettes in reference to the crapp... er, the loo, has only been a plural since the 20th century, and it isn’t necessarily true of all variants of French since the Belgians for instance still speak of la toilette. In any, the euphemism is transparent: it’s the equivalent of ‘the lavatory’. The French version mostly comes from the locution cabinet de toilette, referring to the small, private room specifically used (by rich people) to ready themselves for the day, and gradually, as hygienic practices progressed throughout the 19th century, for hygiene purposes as well: in other words, the equivalent to the English ‘bathroom’—and indeed it ended up being replaced by the latter’s literal equivalent, salle de bain.

Jean-Baptiste Fortuné de Fournier, Le Cabinet de toilette de l'Impératrice Eugénie à Saint-Cloud, 1860. Or when you realise that First Empire style is basically Donald Trump’s bathroom meeting Regency fashion.

No, the toilette of eau de toilette is a more direct reference to the cosmetic aspects of a noble’s routine, as la toilette since the end of the 17th century has referred to the act of preparing oneself to appear in public. If the word literally translates as ‘small towel’, it’s only because the toilette, between the 14th and 16th centuries, had come to refer to the fine cloth that was laid on the table where one would set all utensils meant for personal adornment. By metonymy la toilette was then used to speak of these utensils, then the piece of furniture in question (the ‘dressing table’ in English), then, abstractly, the various acts by which nobles readied themselves to appear in public. A number of paintings have portrayed ladies ‘at their toilet’.

The eau de toilette as it’s known today appeared in the early 1900s, thanks to the ‘flappers’, fashion icons of the Roaring Twenties who sought perfumes they could wear easily all day long. Technically, an eau de toilette is lighten than an eau de parfum, which is lighter than the most concentrated extrait de parfum, which used to be the only concentration available, prepared on demand for a wealthy clientèle; in more ways than one, the eau de toilette started perfume’s democratisation as perfumers began selling their products in different concentrations; for example, Chanel commercialised the already-revolutionary N ͦ 5 (created in 1921) as an eau de toilette as soon as 1924. Of course, a lesser concentration meant that the resulting product was cheaper, sometimes considerably.

Perfume extracts contain 20–40% essences diluted in almost pure alcohol (90° at least), meaning that only a dab suffices to perfume someone for most of the day. If the product contains rare essences (which is to say, when raw materials were scarce or if the extraction process was particularly delicate), a dozen millilitres may cost ten times the eau de toilette’s price! Jean Patou’s Joy, first released in 1930 to exorcise the 1929 crisis that deprived the famous French couturier of most of his American clientèle, was advertised as ‘the costliest perfume in the world’—a slogan created by American columnist Elsa Maxwell, a good friend of Jean Patou (and incidentally a pioneer of the treasure-hunt party game, for those interested). A bottle of only 30ml of perfume extract required 10,600 jasmine flowers and over 300 roses, and these only were the main ingredients! Current price of the extract: €1,000 ($1,121)... In passing, the two top consumers of natural jasmine today are houses Chanel and Patou, which both have their own private jasmine fields in Grasse.

Traditionally, perfume is described following three stages in the perception of particular ‘notes’, that is to say, the most discernible odours which tend to be more easily scented right after spraying, or on the contrary ones that can be smelled on the skin long after the others have evaporated: the ‘head notes’ (notes de tête) or ‘top notes’; the ‘heart notes’ (notes de cœur) or ‘middle notes’; and the ‘base notes’ (in French the notes de fond, ‘bottom notes’. The unfortunate yet I suppose unavoidable comparisons with a certain portion of human anatomy may well have decided that English-speaking perfumers should stick to a plainer term). Certain molecules are extremely volatile and can only be perceived for a few minutes after spraying, others are rather more tenacious and serve as a structure for the whole assembly. In a typical extract, top notes will make for 20% of the perfume, middle notes around 30%, and base notes, 50% of it.

On the other hand, the normal composition of an eau de toilette today will be around 50% top notes that evaporate almost immediately, 30% middle notes that last for about fifteen minutes, and 20% base notes that won’t last the whole day. This can also be explained by the fact that an eau de toilette only contains 10% maximum of concentrated perfume, diluted in a 50°–60° alcohol solution. Closer to the extract is the eau de parfum, which contains 7–14% perfume, dissolved in 90° alcohol (almost as much alcohol as in the extract). Head notes make for 40% of the fragrance, the heart is 30% and at the bottom, 30% as well. The beginning is usually intense but the scent will still fade quicker than in an extract... Nevertheless, still more affordable than any extract.

By the way, the real reason why we have eau de parfum in the first place isn’t so much the need for a middle ground between extracts and the lighter eaux as... the delicate matter of French taxes on luxury goods, which passed the 33% threshold in the late 1970s. To circumvent it, in 1978, Cacharel released its new perfume Anaïs Anaïs in two distinct concentrations, the regular eau de toilette and the novel eau de parfum version. An interesting side effect of it was that with this new concentration, the fragrances weren’t quite identical, either. For example, the eau de parfum version of N ͦ 5 which Jacques Polge created in 1986 was made following the traditional recipe of the extract, except the accrued sweetness of the vanilla noticeably emphasised the vivid citrusy head. Some women got into the habit to buy both versions of a perfume, reserving the more concentrated one to the evening or special occasions, for instance. Although, quite frankly, in the 1980s, the eaux de toilette were many things, but ‘office-friendly’, they were not. (Will elaborate, one of these days.)

Alembics and a bed of roses at the Fragonard factory. House Fragonard, founded in 1926, is one of the oldest perfumeries in Grasse, the oldest being Molinard (est. 1849, which makes it one of the oldest in the world).

I’m sure @thatiswhy will be thrilled to learn (or be reminded of the fact) that the mother of all alcohol-based perfumes is known as ‘Queen of Hungary’s water’, l’eau de la reine de Hongrie, maybe created in 1370 as a consequence of the European discovery of ethyl alcohol, or to be more accurate, the invention of the double distillation technique allowing one to separate in the alembic the ethanol from the foul-tasting esters. Before that, distillers added to their spirits such strong spices as anise or juniper berries, for instance, which covered the bad taste. In passing, the process of boiling a distillate several times is called cohobation, borrowed from alchemical lexicon (the etymology of Medieval Latin cohobare, as often is the case in this domain, is Arabic: كُهْبة, cohba, ‘brownish’, referring to the darker tint of the distilled liquid).

It is entirely possible that the initial recipe was based on an old formula for a rosemary tincture: the flowers were macerated in alcohol, but there was no distillation. This recipe was notably recommended by famous physician (and religious reformer) Arnaldus de Villa-Nova (c.1240–1311), who taught for many years at the prestigious Montpellier School of Medicine, before moving to Paris. He is, incidentally, credited with translating a number of medical texts from Arabic. He wasn’t the inventor of alcoholic maceration, of course, but his writings are an excellent illustration of what learned people thought to be good for the health at the time. Most often, there was little distinction made between substances that smelled good and remedies, and even in the 18th century perfume could still sell as an in-and-out panacea. The term elixir (borrowed from Arabic as well though the etymology is Greek), initially referring to a medicinal powder, was used in alchemy to speak either of the philosopher’s stone or a substance liable to cure all ills. Eventually, elixir came to refer to any alcoholic maceration of herbs, spices or fruits later distilled, to be employed as a medicine.

Historians have passionately debated which Hungarian queen exactly this miraculous ‘water’ was made for. It may have been Elizabeth of Poland (1305–1380), wife of Charles I Robert of Hungary. A popular legend had it that Queen Elizabeth obtained it from an angel and that it was so efficacious that she received a marriage proposal from the king of Poland at age 72—but historians have suggested that the confusion might stem from the fact that Elizabeth was named regent queen of Poland by her son in 1370...

Yes, alright, the legend might have been made up by perfumers who made an augmented recipe into a speciality of Montpellier during the 17th century; indeed, the first mention of it is found in 1660 savant books, at a time when the eau de Hongrie has become a favourite at Louis XIV’s court in Versailles. By that time, the old rosemary elixir was a more complex preparation, including marjoram, sage, lemon balm and cedrus. No matter the recipe, though, the use was unchanged: it was meant to be consumed or rubbed all over one’s skin, and expecting to heal migraines, various feminine vapours, rheumatisms, tinnitus, gout, palpitations, jaundice... (list far from exhaustive) up to the plague itself! Not to mention, of course, its many cosmetic advantages.

Note that such prestigious reputation isn’t completely unwarranted: ethanol is known today as ‘rubbing alcohol’ and ‘surgical alcohol’ for a good reason. Even though it is ineffective against bacterial spores, ethyl alcohol works well as an antiseptic against most fungi and bacteria, as well as a lot of viruses, killing organisms by denaturing their proteins and dissolving their lipids. This is a reason why spirits are known in several languages as ‘waters of life’: compare French eau de vie with Irish uisce beatha, for instance. In passing, alchemists were only trying to discover the recipe for an elixir of youth, you know.

Actually, the closest the perfume world can get to the infamous ‘Kit Marlowe really was Shakespeare’s plays unless it was all De Vere’ cross-century quarrel may well be the neverending bickering between the respective heirs of the Feminis and Farina families, since we may never know who invented the eau de Cologne, only that it became a huge sensation without ever needing to hire a very bored-looking, starving, overpaid actress to pout next to a bottle of it for it to become the talk of several countries, and a bit of a misnomer.

Versions diverge and (oddly credible) documents abund, but here is the most diplomatic variant of the story: one Giovanni Paolo Feminis, born in 1666 in northern Piedmont, emigrated to Germany where he opened a distillery in Cologne in 1693, in which he sold diverse scented waters, including a special aqua mirabilis (‘marvellous water’) made from rosemary, melissa, bergamot, orange blossom, lemon and citron essences in spirit. The true origins of this formula are unknown, but it’s hard not to think of the Florentine basilica of Santa Maria Novella, where the Dominican monks opened a perfumery in 1612 (which still exists today, making it the oldest perfumery in the Western world) in addition to the mediaeval apothecary office where sold essences, elixirs, balms... This pharmacy was already active in the 1300s, when historians found traces of rose water being sold by the friars to help repel the plague. Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) was a frequent customer of the time.

The convent's most prized product was probably created to honour Catherine de’ Medici when she left for France in 1533 to be married to the future King Henry II (she would be Queen of France from 1547 till she was widowed in 1559, after which she ruled France as a regent for her second son Charles IX, officially and officiously. She was an impressive bitch, Kate was) and took with her an Acqua della Regina in which citrus essences predominated, bergamot in particular. This is, indeed, very reminiscent of the ‘marvellous water’ which the Feminis distillery sold in Cologne in the late 1600s as a digestive and hepatic remedy, an antiseptic and a painkiller. Business was successful and Feminis was even named an honorary member of the Cologne Chamber of Commerce. Nevertheless, the perfumer died heirless in 1736.

In 1709, Piedmont-born Giovanni Maria Farina (he came from a village which his family co-founded near Feminis’ hometown of Crana) came to Cologne, where his brother Giovanni Battista traded luxury goods; Giovanni Maria was meant to lead a subsidary of their export company dealing toiletries imported from Italia: soap, perfume, face powder, and also wigs, lace, silk stockings, tobacco boxes... In that time, Cologne had the enviable status of a ‘free and imperial city’, which is to say it was subordinate only to the Holy Roman Emperor, as opposed to territorial cities which had to answer to territorial lords. What that meant for commerce was that by the time the Farina family established themselves in Cologne, Catholic foreigners trading in luxury goods—which meant gold, silver, silk and perfume—were welcomed with open arms. The privilege was abolished under French occupation (1794–1814), meaning that anyone could settle; one of the direct consequences of this was a significant rise in eau de Cologne forgery!

The famous ‘John Maria Farina opposite Jülich's Square ltd.’ perfumery (one of the oldest active perfumeries, too) notably sold an Aqua admirabilis whose invigorating freshness contrasted with heavier classical perfumes. A hydrolat (a result of steam distillation alongside essential oil, ‘flower waters’ are less concentrated than the latter and ideal for use as a lotion) added with brandy (eau de vie), Farina’s ‘admirable water’ contained rosemary, thyme, absinth, marjoram, melissa, lavender, angelica, hyssop, fennel, juniper berries, anise seeds, nutmeg, clove, caraway, nutmeg, clove, as well as lemon peel and bergamot oil... In spite of the impressive list of aromatic herbs, the Admirable Water is led by a sweet yet fresh citrusy scent. ‘I have created a perfume which is reminiscent of a spring morning following a soft shower where fragrances of wild narcissi combine with that of sweet orange flowers. This perfume refreshes me and stimulates both my senses and imagination’, Giovanni Maria wrote to his brother back in 1708.

By the time the Faculty of Medicine of Cologne officially recognised the great healing property of that perfume in 1727, Aqua admirabilis was renowned across Europe as Eau de Cologne, adored in every royal or imperial court. The first delivery to Paris was made in 1721 but the perfume became very largely diffused in France during the 1733–1735 War of the Polish Succession (between the Habsburgs and the Bourbons, and France was heavily involved because contender Stanislas I, disgraced former king of Poland, happened to be King Louis XV of France’s father-in-law...), thanks to French officers.

Under the reign of Napoleon I, when Cologne’s privileges were abolished, suddenly there were Eau de Cologne counterfeiting everywhere in town—it bears reminding that there was no such thing, at the time, as intellectual property... In the space of a few decades, nearly 2,000 forgeries were sold! Emphasis was put on the supposed medicinal virtues of the perfume, in an attempt to distance the concurrence. However, that did little to damage the success of the original preparation. In 1806, a grand-grand-nephew of the creator, Giovanni Maria Giuseppe Farina (also born, in 1785, in the family town of Santa Maria Maggiore) founded a perfume shop in Paris, rue Saint-Honoré, as ‘Jean-Marie Farina’. Quite interestingly, in an early brochure he claimed to be the great-grandson of Giovanni Paolo Feminis; which was, in all likelihood, meant to shut down rumours that the rights to the original Eau de Cologne should go to Feminis’ legal benefactors. True or not, Jean-Marie—who was one of Honoré de Balzac’s sources of inspiration for his character of César Birotteau—obtained in 1806 a contract to make and sell an ‘Eau dite de Cologne’, a ‘so-called Cologne water’, which was met with immediate success. Two years later, he had become Imperatrice Eugénie’s official perfumer, and he famously made for Napoleon I the ‘Emperor’s roll’, a special bottle that he could slip in his boot.

‘Cologne water is usually employed pure, or mixed with water or wine, depending on the circumstances. Its quantity must vary as well, for internal use a few drops with sugar or water, a teaspoon. For external use, doses are more considerable. It is used in liniments, frictions, unguents, localised or general baths, enemas and injections. For bathing the whole body, one may pour up to three bottles. In a foot bath, one should suffice. In an enema, in injection, one or two spoonfuls.’

— from a 1825 brochure...

In 1851, the authentic Eau de Cologne is sold in these small, slim bottles containing about one seventh of a litre, sealed with a cork and wrapped in printed paper with Jean-Marie Farina’s signature as well as an embossed stamp and a green wax mark bearing the arms of Prussia both on the box and on the bottle. Each bottle sold for one franc and 50 centimes, which mightn’t sound so impressive till you realise that at the time that was worth an entire year of a civil servant’s salary!

House Farina in Cologne still sells the original preparation as Original Eau de Cologne, but prestigious Parisian perfumery Roger & Gallet acquired the rights to the rue Saint-Honoré house in 1862 (which is how they became Roger & Gallet in the first place. They quickly made a name for themselves selling luxury soaps and quality scented waters), and they still sell an Eau de Cologne extra vieille. After winning a lawsuit over the right to use the name Farina in the first place, of course.

If the price is considerably less steep than what it used to be, one should also consider the fact that nowadays, eau de Cologne is a commercial appellation used to refer to an even lighter concentration of perfume than in an eau de toilette, 4–6% essences only. It is intended to be used as a lotion, a tonic for the morning, which may be a refreshing version of a perfume and worn at the same time as the latter. The citrus extracts do possess astringent, circulatory properties, not to mention their fresh, tart smell. The Extra-Vieille was advertised by Roger & Gallet in the 1960s as ‘a good friction for a good day!’ Glamourous. By that time, cologne had lost its aura of luxury. For decades it remained extremely old-fashioned, and not in the ‘retro chic’ sense... Then, in the early 2000s, fashion shifted and people began looking for ‘authenticity’, for natural smells, as well as simpler perfumes. Which, as always, is relative, since perfume overall is a luxury product and cologne by Guerlain (Eau de Cologne impériale, Eau de Cologne du Coq) for instance won’t be that ‘democratic’ an issue.

Still, my personal favourite shall remain Institut Très Bien’s Cologne à la russe, because I am weak. Also snobbish. And the perfume version, Très Russe, is one of my ultimate favourite scents of all time and space.

#aromaphilia #tip of the nose #perfume #to be continued

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