Welcome to the Friday Perfume Chat Room, perfumistas! I envision this chat room as a weekly drop-in spot online, where readers may ask questions, suggest fragrances, tell others their SOTD, comment on new releases or old favorites, and respond to each other. The perennial theme is fragrance, but we can interpret that broadly. This is meant to be a kind space, so please try not to give or take offense, and let’s all agree to disagree when opinions differ. In fragrance as in life, your mileage may vary! YMMV.
Today is Friday, April 21, and my roses continue to explode in bloom (’tis the season here in the Southeast, I know some of you haven’t even gotten all your spring blossoms yet). I’ve been enjoying sniffing each one and smelling the subtle differences in their scents. Some are more fruity, some are more musky, some are so strongly “rosy” that it’s all I smell.
This past Monday, I posted another “Counterpoint“, the collaboration between me and Portia of Australian Perfume Junkies. The mystery perfume we analyzed is Jean Patou’s Joy — the original, the one and only Joy. If you haven’t read it yet, please check it out! I really love these projects.
In other news, the community project at another favorite blog, “Now Smell This“, is to wear a spring floral fragrance or other fragrance that reminds you of spring. I’m ready, bring it! I have so many spring florals, it’s not even funny. Now I just have to decide which of many to wear today. I think I’ll go with a newer acquisition, 4160 Tuesdays’ Both Sides of Clouds in extrait strength, the one that earned me compliments from a checkout cashier last week!
What is your favorite spring floral fragrance if you have one?
Welcome to a monthly collaboration new for 2023! Portia Turbo of Australian Perfume Junkies and I had so much fun doing “Scent Semantics” with some other fragrance bloggers in 2022 that we decided to launch TWO regular features as a new collaboration this year. The first, which we plan to post on the first Monday of each month, is “Notes on Notes“, in which we choose one note and write about it however the spirit moves us; last month’s Note was on galbanum. This second feature is “Counterpoint“, in which we ask ourselves the same handful of questions about a single fragrance and post our separate thoughts on it, on the third Monday of each month. We’re still experimenting with format, so comments on that are welcome too!
This month’s Counterpoint fragrance is Jean Patou’s Joy (we shall ignore the imposter Dior launched in 2018 after acquiring the name and the brand). Jean Patou was one of the great designers and couturiers of pre World War 2 Europe, with his own couture house. Joy was launched in 1930 at the outset of the Great Depression, apparently so that M. Patou’s haute couture clients could still enjoy something created by him even if they couldn’t buy his dresses any more. The true creator, of course, was the perfumer; in this case, Henri Alméras.
Joy was famously promoted as the “costliest perfume in the world”, which was probably a marketing ploy but also reflected the high quality and cost of its ingredients, including absolutes made from jasmine and roses from Grasse. It was also meant to compete with Chanel No.5 as a luxury perfume. They share some qualities and notes, but each is distinct from the other, and instantly recognizable to many.
Jean Patou’s Joy; image from Portia at Australian Perfume Junkies
1. How did you first encounter Joy, and what was your first impression?
Old Herbaceous: I first tried Joy after I had gone down the rabbit-hole of this fragrance hobby. I knew it was one of the 20th century’s most legendary fragrances and that my perfume education would be incomplete if I didn’t try it. I found a tester of the eau de toilette at a very reasonable price, so I took the plunge and bought it blind.
My first impression was kind of “meh.” It was okay but I didn’t like it as much as the Chanels I already had, for example, or some of the more exciting new fragrances I was trying. It felt a bit old-fashioned, more than the Chanels did, and I couldn’t recognize its separate notes. As my nose became more educated, though, and I was trying more different kinds of fragrances, I came to like Joy better.
Portia: Honestly I have no memory of first smelling Joy by Patou. It seemed to be around in my childhood. It was definitely work by my Mum at some point and by various Aunts and friends Mums. There is no one specific image or memory I can conjure of my early encounters though.
When I started buying vintages I was so unaware of exactly how it should smell I sent a couple of samples around the world for confirmation and bought samples from Posh Peasant for comparison. So I’m taking my first vintage splash bottle as if it was the first time I smelled it. The only memory I have of that was being overwhelmed by this extraordinary scent. Eye-rollingly gorgeous stuff, I think I bought about a dozen bottles so I’d never be without it again, mainly vintage parfums and a couple of those 45ml EdT or EdP.
2. How would you describe the development of Joy?
Portia: Today I’m wearing both the vintage EdP and vintage parfum. I’m not sure exactly the years but the picture might give you an idea.
Opening is sharp white flowers, aldehydes and a swirl of ylang. It’s rich, plush and sumptuous. I know Joy is supposed to be rose and white floweer but the roses take a far back seat on the bus for ages before they start to become a serious contender. Even when they do make their play it’s only as a backup not the main event.
What I do smell as we hit the heart is fruit. Not that modern super sweet candy-ised fruit but that vintage tinned fruit salad. Yeah, it’s sweet but more robust, less headache inducing.
There is also a lovely, stemmy green note that could be hyacinth and it borders on torn twig. It’s verdant but also bitter and gives a lovely counterpoint to the bouquet and fruit.
Hiding deep below is also a little growly tiger and breathy, sweet jasmine.
As the fragrance heads towards dry down, the woods and animalics become more pronounced. Not dirty or ass-ish but smoothly skin-like, me but so much better.
Old Herbaceous: The notes listed for the original Joy are: tuberose, rose, ylang-ylang, aldehydes, pear, and green notes. The heart notes include jasmine and iris root. The base has notes of musk, sandalwood, and, in the vintage, civet. The version I have is the eau de toilette and it dates to 2016. Fragrantica lists this version’s notes as: Top notes — Bulgarian Rose, Ylang-Ylang and Tuberose; middle notes — Jasmine and May Rose; base notes — Musk and Sandalwood.
I think there are still some aldehydes in the opening, even if no longer listed, to give it some lift. There’s a pleasant soapiness to Joy that I associate with aldehydes; and I think they are the cause of so many people feeling that Joy is old-fashioned. I smell the ylang-ylang more than I do the other floral top notes, and then the jasmine arrives. It isn’t overpowering but it is very evident, much more so than the rose notes. I don’t smell any iris, root or bloom, at all, so that may not have become part of the modern EDT. It’s not quite as abstract a flower as Chanel No.5, but it is in that same vein. Even in EDT format, Joy has good longevity and sillage. A little goes a long way, given how dominant jasmine is. The final stage of this modern Joy on my skin is all soft sandalwood and white musk, like expensive soap.
Jean Patou’s Joy eau de toilette
3. Do you or will you wear Joy regularly? For what occasions or seasons?
Old Herbaceous: I don’t think I’ll wear Joy regularly, but that’s mostly because I now have such a large collection of fragrances that there are only a few I would say I “wear regularly.” Joy definitely gets more love from me than it used to, and it’s in a convenient location, so I do reach for it occasionally. It’s great for church or the office, because if you don’t overspray, it’s quite subtle and ladylike. It’s one of those fragrances that doesn’t jump out at anyone, it just smells very nice. By the same token, if you want your fragrance to make more of an impression, Joy may not be the one to choose that day (or night), unless the parfum has more impact (I haven’t tried that version).
Portia: Joy is so fabulous but rarely gets the spritz, splash ot swipe here. Every so often I get out the Patou box and grab Joy. I’ll wear it and put it back. Then I won’t think of it for months. That doesn’t lessen my love for it but it seems to fit only rarely.
I’m hoping that enjoying wearing it so much today and yesterday that it might inspire me to wear it more often.
4. Who should/could wear Joy?
Portia: Joy needs a certain amount of preparation if you’re not a regular wearer. It’s big, bold and makes a statement. It’s tenacity is also legendary, so you have to be ready to smell of this iconic beauty for at least half a day. Anyone who chooses Joy is choosing to smell of a fragrance that will not be easily available for us to buy when the bottle runs out. So they are wearing something precious and on it’s way to extinction. That alone tells you something of the wearer. Either they are so wealthy that they can stockpile or such a hedonist that wearing it to the dregs and enjoying every second is better than having it forever. No, I check myself. There are other reasons. Wearing it as a memory scent, to mark special occasions, as a lure or any number of wonderful reasons.
Really though, anyone who wants to smell spectacular and relive the joy of wearing Joy by Patou before it’s gone forever.
Old Herbaceous: As always, I say anyone who wants to can wear Joy or any other fragrance! Joy does give off a certain demure, ladylike air, at least in EDT form, but that could be deployed to great effect if the wearer isn’t, in fact, demure, ladylike, or even a lady. For myself, I prefer some of the reissued “Collection Heritage” fragrances created by Thomas Fontaine when he was Jean Patou’s head perfumer, especially Chaldée and L’Heure Attendue.
If you want to experience this legendary fragrance, I recommend getting some soon. Dior’s Joy is a pallid successor at best, but all the Jean Patou fragrances are now out of production, since LVMH bought the brand (to the howls of the faithful) and changed its name to just “Patou”. The fragrances are still widely available online and I’m told that Joy was so popular among ladies of my mother’s generation and even beyond that it is often found at estate sales. In fact, when a FiFi award was given in 2000 to the “perfume of the century”, it was given to Joy and NOT to its competitor No.5. So now really is the time to get yourself this small exemplar of 20th century fashion and creativity. I’ll be keeping my eye out for vintage parfum, since that’s the version that has gotten the most rave reviews (including from Luca Turin, who gave it his rare five-star rating) and that Portia finds so alluring.
Have you experienced Joy? What did you think? Has your opinion changed over time, as mine did?
Groan. The conglomerate LVMH seems to have acquired Jean Patou this summer, with the acquisition to be completed this month, although there has been a lot of mystery about the deal: LVMH’s stealth capture of Jean Patou. This is cause for concern, because LVMH is reputed to have “dumbed down” legendary fragrances it has previously acquired, perhaps most famously those of Christian Dior, like my formerly beloved Diorissimo. That LVMH has launched a new Parfums Dior fragrance named so similarly to “Joy“, Patou’s most iconic fragrance and one that vies for the top spot of all 20th century perfumes, does not bode well for the original Joy, which Luca Turin awarded five stars in his original “Perfumes: The A-Z Guide” and called “huge, luscious, and utterly wonderful.” This is especially disappointing because I had discovered and liked Thomas Fontaine’s re-creations of classic Patou fragrances such as L’Heure Attendue and hoped they would continue.
Joy by Dior is not huge, luscious, and utterly wonderful. I agree with Colognoisseur that it has been tested to its last faint breath so that it will become a bestseller among young women who may never have heard of Jean Patou. It is pleasant, inoffensive, and somewhat anemic. And if that sounds like damning with faint praise, it is. I tried it yesterday, somewhat hoping to like it because I do like actress Jennifer Lawrence, who is the face of Dior and whose beautiful face graces all of the advertising for Joy by Dior.
Like many moviegoers, I first encountered Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss Everdeen, heroine of The Hunger Games trilogy, although she had already caught critics’ positive attention in earlier work like “Winter’s Bone”. I was immediately taken by her natural beauty and the fluidity of the emotions that seemed to rise organically from her face and physical bearing. The story itself was compelling, about the domination of an entire country by one small, luxury-obsessed group in the Capitol of Panem, who condemned most of the residents of the Districts to lives of actual and semi-starvation and malnutrition, among other woes, until the Districts rebel.
Joy by Dior is the smaller, paler, thinner, younger Primrose Everdeen to the real Joy, itself comparable to Katniss in her transforming wedding dress: The Hunger Games: Catching Fire: a huge, luxurious confection stuffed with the most expensive elements, over-the-top feminine, the epitome of extravagance, presented for a hungry world’s admiration, awe, and envy. The original Joy was claimed to be “the world’s most expensive perfume” when it was launched at the start of the Great Depression, when couturier Jean Patou recognized that many of his longtime customers could no longer afford Parisian couture but could manage the purchase of an iconic fragrance that would give them the same aura of luxury. Each bottle was said to contain the essences of thousands of jasmine flowers and hundreds of roses, as well as animalic ingredients like civet and musk.
As reviewer Angela wrote several years ago on Now Smell This, “Joy Parfum seamlessly morphs from a complex floral explosion to something darker, and unless you already knew Joy, you might not recognize the dry down and the heart as the same fragrance.” There is a darker, more insubordinate aspect to Joy, as if the parfum presents itself as demure and ladylike, but as it dries down and the evening progresses, it reveals itself to be more of a femme fatale who is in full control of her own destiny and that of the men who choose to enter her orbit.
As Samantha has written in her blog “I Scent You a Day”, the original Joy is a heavyweight, a Presence. The new Joy by Dior is a lightweight, almost anorexic. It’s not bad (it is by Francois Demachy, after all), it is even likable, but it is a small, pale thing compared to its big sister. Its classic citrus opening combines orange and bergamot, and the orange note is pleasantly astringent, not too sweet. It combines nicely with the greenish tartness of the bergamot. Next come roses and jasmine, but they enter shyly and hesitantly — a far cry from the confident assertiveness of those flowers in Joy. These are slender, girlish blossoms, not full-figured, unabashed roses.
Similarly, the drydown of Joy by Dior does not purr or growl: it whispers, in a breathy tone of white musk. I don’t smell any of the listed sandalwood, patchouli, or cedar notes. Again, the drydown is likeable, but it is also forgettable. Sadly, as soon as I tried Joy by Dior, it reminded me of dozens of fragrances whose names I could not recall. It just smelled very familiar.
The bottle is also disappointing. I love me some pink, so it’s not the color of the juice that lets me down — it is the generic-looking cylinder that is clearly meant to evoke the cylindrical bottles of Dior’s more exclusive fragrances in “La Collection Privee” and the “Maison Christian Dior” collection, but that has been tarted up with silver sparkle, like glitter. And the typeface on the bottle, loudly proclaiming “JOY” with a smaller “Dior” in the center, is barely different from the typeface on the iconic Patou bottle, which was designed by an noted architect and captured the essence of Art Deco, as noted on the Jean Patou website:
Every Jean Patou bottle is a jewel in its own right. The same techniques and craftsmanship are still used today. The bottles have retained the Art Deco forms dear to Patou’s friend Louis Süe, who came up with the original design. The cut glass flask decorated with gold leaf is filled drop by drop. The stopper is then sealed by hand with a gold thread and stamped.
A work of timeless beauty.
This new bottle will, no doubt, lend itself to cost-saving replicas in the flankers to come, but it could have been so much better. Chanel, for example, when it launched Gabrielle, came up with a truly beautiful bottle with clear reference to the classic Chanel No. 5 bottle, although I was ultimately left unmoved by the fragrance itself.
Sigh. Why, oh why, do we have this trend of releasing fragrances that remind me of little sisters? (Not my own little sister, btw, who resembles Katniss more than Prim!) I’m looking at you, Gabrielle. Let’s hope that Patou’s new masters will let us post-adolescents continue to enjoy Joy, the original, without mucking it up. Even Effie, after all, evolved from one of Katniss’ tormentors to her ally, saving her from tasteless makeover attempts.
Serenity Now Scents and Sensibilities 