Jo's Scent Notes: Au revoir, Frédéric Malle
This is a little personal tribute to Frédéric Malle, who just a couple of weeks ago announced that he’s stepping aside from the brand which carries his name. Ooof. Always a challenge, that, when your moniker’s splashed across the packaging.
As a perfumista, I’d love to think that this highly influential fragrance figure is going to do something that delights our olfactory systems, but I suspect that a strict non-compete clause means that probably won’t happen.
What I’m kind of hoping and praying for is that actually, he takes up a senior role at Estée Lauder itself, masterminding their whole fragrance empire. He just distilled his brilliance into the Estée Lauder Legacy Collection (see my post here), and I’d love to think that Frédéric is moving on to exciting pastures new within the same company, to whom he sold his eponymous fragrance house in 2014. (Actually, at the Legacy launch, Frédéric told me: ‘I really sold it to Leonard.’ That’s Leonard Lauder, and I totally get why you’d do that – he’s one of the cleverest, most charming and charismatic figures ever to have worked in the beauty business.)
But if he’s just headed for a sun lounger in the South of France, well, nobody deserves it more.
So… here’s what we owe Frédéric Malle, as perfume-lovers. In the year 2000, he launched his Éditions de Parfums Frédéric Malle perfume house with a stunning collection that includes what are many of my favourite EDPFM fragrances to this day: Musc Ravageur, Lipstick Rose, Iris Poudre, Le Parfum de Thérèse – nine showstoppers, in all. What made them different was his role as ‘Editor’, allowing the perfumers free rein and then putting their names on the front of the bottles.
This was pretty much unheard of. Except for a few perfume houses – the Guerlain family dynasty (Pierre-François Pascal, Aimé, Jacques, Jean-Paul Guerlain) and Chanel (where only four men have held the cherished title of Chanel Perfumer), perfumes were composed by what Frédéric refers to as ‘ghostwriters’. He chose to give credit where credit’s due – and golly, don’t they deserve it, for their boundless creativity, their ability to capture ideas, turn them into perfumes and bottle them?
After Frédéric started crediting perfumers for their creations, other brands started doing the same. The perfumers came out of the labs and into the public gaze, sharing their stories, their inspirations and insights into their (certainly, to me) utterly fascinating craft.
The whole ‘independent fragrance’ universe exploded, with niche start-ups having the confidence to launch scents designed to appeal to a whole new sort of perfume-wearer: the person who wanted to know the story behind the fragrance, about ingredients, construction, provenance and more. It was a mirror of what happened when chefs like Jamie Oliver and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall came storming out of the kitchen and began talking about where and how things grew and what created the flavours we were tasting – and suddenly, food became a whole lot more interesting.
From the Liberty blog interview with Frédéric Malle here
I personally first discovered Frédéric Malle’s fragrance house when walking down the Rue de Grenelle in Paris, site of his first shop. It had recently opened, and I stepped inside to find a space unlike any other perfume shop on the planet. Special booths had been created into which you could stick a nose, to smell fragrances diffused into the air. There was no hard sell. Just knowledgeable staff, loving their jobs, happy to help if needed, or stand back if you wished to dip and dab independently.
I bought myself a bottle of Lipstick Rose (by Ralph Shwieger), my first Frédéric Malle (but absolutely not my last). It’s so very French, indeed so lipsticky – a sophisticated rosy fragrance that makes me walk a little taller, stand a little straighter; it literally feels like it’s giving me backbone.
My next acquisition, a couple of years later, was Musc Ravageur, by Maurice Roucel, a fragrance so smoochy and naughty that I am banned from leaving the house wearing it, by my otherwise incredibly liberal husband. (Note to self: acquire new bottle, as this has spritzed its last. Also, possibly: ignore husband.)
Not long after that, I met Frédéric Malle for the first time in person during press appointments, always gripped by his intelligent approach to perfume creation, his discernment, his riveting stories. Frédéric grew up within the realms of ‘perfume royalty’; his mother was the former Art Director at Parfums Christian Dior, and in turn was the daughter of Serge Heftler-Louiche who created Parfums Christian Dior and launched Miss Dior in 1947.
I went on to interview him for a packed Perfume Society customer event at Selfridges, and will always treasure the bottle of Lipstick Rose that he gave me, with the dedication: ‘To Jo, who made a star of me.’ Well, hardly, Frédéric – you’re the star-maker – but I’ll treasure that box forever.
Along the way, meanwhile, I acquired other Frédéric Malles for my collection: the romantic Dans Mon Lit linen spray, for instance, which really does create a ‘bed of roses’ vibe when spritzed on sheets and pillowcases. My office is frequently refreshed by a spritz of Café Society room spray, by veteran perfumer Carlos Benaïm – one of the loveliest perfumers I’ve ever had the experience of meeting.
And I graduated, finally, belatedly (just a couple of years ago) to perhaps the greatest masterpiece in the whole collection, Portrait Of A Lady (which definitely deserves a whole ‘Jo’s Scent Notes’ post of its own), after becoming addicted to its ‘gateway drugs’, in the form of the Body Butter and Hand Cream (which I reviewed here). I’m now completely, utterly, totally enraptured by this scent, and it’s one of the most ‘gosh, what are you wearing?’ conversation-starters I’ve ever worn. Again, I need a new bottle; I’m down to my last drop. And it says SO much that these are fragrances I’ve repeat-purchased.
If you’re keen to explore the world of ‘niche’ or independent perfume, a Frédéric Malle boutique or in-store counter is quite literally the essential place to start.
Meanwhile, wherever you’re going, Frédéric – bon voyage. I really hope it’s au revoir. But thank you for the fragrant memories.
