Fuzz Factor

Mathilde Laurent’s Guet-Apens (1999), rechristened Attrape-Coeur (2005) in Guerlain’s Les Parisiennes collection, occupies a high place among the hundreds of bottles in my private collection. More Renoir than Moreau, it is a pastel sketch done in shades of cream, mauve, blue and gold, a sketch that appears to radiate a soft light from within. A quintessential Guerlain fragrance of the contemporary school, it nods back at the house’s historic penchant for confiserie-style creations, without sacrificing any sophistication (viz. Les Élixirs Charnels). When I put it on the blotter, suddenly all the angles in the room seem to go fuzzy. And I think, Ah, no one but a French could have created such a little marvel.

But this is not to say that it is a chic scent. Rather, this a French channeling a much-earlier perfumer – perchance a court perfumer – and modernizing, abstracting the lessons learned in the past. Much the way Renoir channeled the early 19th century boudoir school - retaining his very French frivolité - while remaining firmly in the camp of post-Impressionism. Some may say that this detracts from the finished product, much the way an insipid chorus can emasculate an opera by Gounod; but I would argue that the French have an abiding fidelity to established forms (e.g., the rocaille becoming the slender curve of a Louis Quinze arm chair, in turn, becoming the silhouette of a Dior “New Look” dress). In Attrape-Coeur, the classical rose-violet-iris triad is played at higher and higher frequency until everything is bathed in an almost raucous amber-vanilla glow.

It doesn’t hurt to want to see the world through French eyes every so often, does it?