A Gardener’s Pride and Joy

Although this article arrives rather late, I have had it in mind to write about my lilies of the valley since the beginning of May when they were in bloom. During that time, bunches of these white porcelain bells could also be found wrapped in their green leaves and sold as bouquets. But since I much prefer the process of growing and coaxing a plant into blooms, especially one whose fragrance I have yet to smell in situ, I had planted their rootstocks or ‘pips’ in autumn last year. They lay dormant over the winter and only began to send out their leaves in mid-March when the weather warmed. A littler later, some flower stalks emerged, and I could enjoy the redolence of spring.

muguet pips

Pips emerging from dormancy in spring. The carpet of seedlings around the pips are violets, which also emerge from the seeds of last year.

The perennial lily of the valley or muguet (Convallaria majalis) returns every year to perfume the spring air. But despite its delicate-looking white bells, muguet is highly poisonous and, especially without blooms, often dangerously mistaken for the edible herb bear leek (Allium ursinum). Nonetheless, grow a small patch in a dedicated pot of its own for an olfactory pleasure and all the caution can be thrown in the wind.

Its ethereal scent smells fresh, obviously floral, even spicy, and with a watery green tone. I would describe it as a mix of rose, clove, jasmine, green saps, and musky sweetness. But in spite of these contrastingly opulent notes, the overall character of muguet is reserved, and it feels like a subtle and an elegant way of announcing spring. Lily of the valley, as such, has been a prime objective of perfumers who have tried to capture its mesmerising scent and, along with it, the allure of spring.

Lily of The Valley in Perfumery

Just as elusive as it is captivating, lily of the valley virtually refuses to be extracted. Steam distillation does not yield a desirable quality of essential oil and solvent extraction with either petroleum ether or butane, though sufficient to produce the concrete for research, gives too low a yield to be commercially tenable. Perfumers must therefore rely on their memory and headspace analysis of the natural scent to reconstitute and interpret lily of the valley with existing essential oils and aroma ingredients.

The first of such aroma chemicals were the aldehydes (-CHO), such as hydroxycitronellal, Lilial, and Lyral. These are some of the most well-known muguet odorants of this family. Hydroxycitronellal was the prototype; it encompasses all the facets of lily of the valley — despite itself not being naturally occurring. It had been discovered and marketed by Knoll & Co. in 1905, but soon various qualities from other manufacturers were available, such as Laurine (1906) and Cyclosia (1908). The next stage of muguet was, then, dominated by Lilial and Lyral, starting from the 1960s. They would eventually come to supplant hydroxycitronellal.

These muguet aldehydes found their use directly in a composition or alternatively in a compounded base. Hydroxycitronellal, for instance, first found its fame with the aldehydic floral perfume Quelques Fleurs (Houbigant, 1912). It had also been used to compound Lily 7 — a base comprising seven ingredients — which was employed in the composition of Arpège (Lanvin, 1927), another successful aldehydic floral perfume. Other classic perfumes such as Chanel N°5 (1921), Ma Griffe (Carven, 1946), L’Air du Temps (Nina Ricci, 1948), and Youth Dew (Estée Lauder, 1952) likewise benefited from this lily of the valley odorant. But hydroxycitronellal was just as popular in the enduring fragrance of Nivea Cream, which has notes of muguet, ylang ylang, rose, geranium, violet (ionones) as well as cinnamic and balsamic ones.

Later perfumes, however, relied more on the newly available odorants when they were first created. For example, Fidji (Guy Laroche, 1966) employed Lyral, imparting thus a green tone to its floral bouquet. Similarly, Calandre (Paco Rabanne, 1969) used Lyral in addition to hydroxycitronellal to give a green emphasis that accentuates its character of metallic rose. Even more so, the elaborate floral accord of Anaïs Anaïs (Cacharel, 1978) was based on hydroxycitronellal, Lilial, Lyral, and Cyclamen aldehyde. Interestingly, compositions such as Aromatics Elixir (Clinique, 1971), Coriandre (Jean Couturier, 1973), and Paloma Picasso (1984) used a combination of the muguet aldehydes partly for their floral notes that contrast beautifully with patchouli.

Interestingly, such muguet aldehydes was also used in the formation of Schiff bases. When an amine (-NH2) reacts with an aldehyde (-CHO), a Schiff base and water are formed. For example, methyl anthranilate reacts with hydroxycitronellal and Lyral to form Aurantiol and Lyrantiol, respectively. The Schiff bases produced can give odours of orange blossom, linden blossom, or tuberose. Perfumes such as Oscar (Oscar de la Renta, 1977), Poison (Dior, 1985), and Lou Lou (Cacharel, 1987) derived much of their sweet floral character in such a manner at the time.

Even in the last few years, the classic muguet aldehydes, such as hydroxycitronellal, Lilial, and Lyral could still be found. In adr_ett (Nomenclature, 2015), the lily of the valley, which lends a green floral touch to the fruity musk, was based on the combination of hydroxycitronellal and Lilial. And, as much as 12% Lyral was used in Inflorescence (Byredo, 2013) to build its lily of the valley character. Indeed, these muguet aldehydes have proved to be one of the enduring ingredients of perfumery.

But that is about to change.

Due to their skin-sensitising potential, these muguet aldehydes are facing restrictions. Hydroxycitronellal is allowed only up to certain concentrations depending on the end use, but Lilial and Lyral are severely restricted. According to the Scientific Committee on Consumer Safety (SCCS), Lilial is considered ‘not safe for use as fragrance ingredient in cosmetic leave-on and rise-off type products’ even at the concentrations set by the International Fragrance Association (IFRA), and Lyral ‘should not be used in consumer products’.

New odorants are therefore being developed to replace these restricted ones. Amongst them, the aldehydes  account for a broad range of muguet odour profiles that includes names like Dupical, Florhydral, Melafleur, Floral Super, Cyclemax, et cetera. There are also the alcohols (-OH), such as Mayol/Meijiff, Florol/Florosa, Mugetanol, Majantol, Lilyflore, Muguesia, and Super Muguet, and these are a sought-after class of muguet odorants because of their non-sensitising nature. Super Muguet, for instance, was first used in contrasting the fig accord of Marc Jacobs Men (2002), and it was later used in the oriental-gourmand Noir Pour Femme (Tom Ford, 2015). Amongst recently debuted ingredients, I had the chance to smell Mahonial, which offers a diffusive, creamy lily of the valley note reminiscent of the yellow blooms of Mahonia japonica, from whose name it is derived. Mahonial was first employed in the floral heart of Missoni (2015), and now one can smell its transparent yet creamy note in L’Homme (Prada, 2016) and La Femme (Prada, 2016), both containing Mahonial at approximately 4% and 2%, respectively.

As reflected in the many examples of perfumes, the muguet note is a part and parcel of many different styles of fragrances. It follows then that the quest for safe, stable, and impactful lily of the valley aroma chemicals must continue.

Lily of The Valley in Perfumes

The fresh watery appeal and creamy sensuality of muguet lend a special touch to a composition. For this reason, it is not limited to soliflore perfumes, and forms an important part in many styles of compositions.

But, of course, if one wishes to know how perfumers interpret lily of the valley, exploring soliflore perfumes is a good option. There have been several other muguet soliflores since the eighteenth century, from Lily of The Valley (Floris, 1750), Premier Mai (Houbigant, 1908), Muguet de Chaville (Cheramy, 1910), Muguet des Bois (Coty, 1941), Muguet du Bonheur (Caron, 1952), and Muguet de Guerlain (1998 by Jean-Paul Guerlain), to name a few. But I would rather offer a few favourite choices of this flower.

Naturally, one of these is the most well-known and appreciated lily of the valley: Diorissimo (1956). Considered to be the gold standard, its fresh green floral and surreptitious animalic notes conjure the vernal impression of damp woodlands covered in infinite patches of lily of the valley. In the current eau de toilette, its muguet has lost some radiance and its woodlands short on their animalic richness, but I think that its curious paradox of an ethereal flower with a veiled depth still rings true.

However, the lily of the valley that I find most captivating is far from the time-tested repertoire of classics. Muguet Porcelaine (Hermès, 2016), I feel, takes after the spirit of Diorissimo in simplicity and subtle depths, but its singular focus is where it diverges. Whereas Diorissimo is an impressionistic rendering of blooms in their woodlands, Muguet Porcelaine is a careful treatise dedicated solely to muguet, examining its accents and shades. Led by fresh accents of rose and clove, its green floral is not only depicted in detail, but also underpinned by watery melon and green sap that remain fresh until the dry down.

Other than the soliflores, the lily of the valley note, as evident in the examples heretofore, finds itself in various genres. Indispensable to the bouquet of the aldehydic florals, lily of the valley is a part of perfumes such as Chanel N°5, Arpège, Madame Rochas (1960), Calandre, Rive Gauche (Yves Saint Laurent, 1971), and White Linen (Estée Lauder, 1978). It is also found in the multiplex bouquets of L’Air du Temps, Fidji, and Anaïs Anaïs. Beyond these floral bouquets, it finds contrast and harmony in many interesting accords. In perfumes such as Aromatics Elixir, Coriandre, and Paloma Picasso, the lily of the valley accentuates the floral complex that is set against the patchouli and woods. This contrast between muguet and patchouli is also employed in the mellis accord of oriental perfumes such as Opium (Yves Saint Laurent, 1971) and Coco (Chanel, 1984). But the lily of the valley also shines brightly with green notes, where its green floral character finds harmony. In Chamade (Guerlain, 1969), a hint of muguet bridges between the green galbanum and hyacinth opening and the floral heart. This bridge between green galbanum and floral heart is similarly found in Chanel N°19 (1970). As the green notes are making a come-back, so too is the lily of the valley note, and this is seen in the green, dewy floral introduction of Miu Miu (2015).

But ultimately the perfume that has a special place in my memory of May is that of the lilies of the valley which I had coaxed into bloom. They were my pride and joy.

Sources: M. Meunier, Ind. Perfum., 5, 26, 1950; Naves and Mazuyer, Les Parfums Naturels, Paris (1939), p 250; Scent and Chemistry The Molecular World of Odors p 13, 108; SCCS Opinion on HICC SCCP/1456/11 revised 27 July 2012; SCCS Opinion on BMHCA SCCS/1540/14 revised 16 March 2016.

*Lilial is a tradename for butylphenyl methylproprional (BMHCA).

*Lyral is a tradename for hydroxyisohexyl 3-cyclohexene carboxaldehyde (HICC).

Review: Christian Dior Diorissimo — 4.5 points

In the years following the post-war austerity, perfumes took on a new level of sophistication with increasing number of complex compositions entailing long formulae. These included the grand chypres blending citrus top, floral heart, and woody, mossy, animalic fond in perfumes like Ma Griffe (Carven, 1946), Miss Dior Originale (1947), and Jolie Madame (Pierre Balmain, 1953). Even other styles such as the exhilarating floralcy of L’Air du Temps (Nina Ricci, 1948) or the oriental seduction of Youth Dew (Estée Lauder, 1952) were just as puissant.

They were beautiful, of course, but perfumer Edmond Roudnitska differed in his ideal of aesthetics. Why not a simple formula that could just as well bring out novelty, signature, and beauty clearly? And, perhaps, when he collaborated with Christian Dior — whose lucky charm was a boutonnière of muguet — the chips fell into place, and Diorissimo (Dior, 1956) was conceived.

dior.jpg

It came along and threw everyone back to the soliflores of the early nineteenth century when flowers that did not yield scents to extraction were being rendered by perfumers. There was no abstraction of elaborate ideas. Diorissimo felt as though it were against the idea of baroque grand parfums: it was just a flower.

Was it not?

One ought to smell again to see the concealed complexity beneath the white porcelain bells. The current Diorissimo is rather intense in the opening blast of ylang ylang. Its spicy solar note spearheads the brightness, whilst its fruity and heady notes also hint at the underlying depths.

As the jarring debut settles, the shimmering white bells emerge. It is coloured in layers, from the rosy top, the narcotic floral volume, to the green depth. These are interspersed with the watery shades of lilac. The infinite patches of muguet are to be admired along with the accompanying crisp, cold spring.

However, the current eau de toilette is not as radiant and rich as it should be. It has certainly been reformulated. Lily of the valley odorants are now limited to a certain concentration and animalic tinctures that once suffused the composition with a vernal impression of damp earth is banned. This likely accounts for some lost radiance and depth.

Despite that, Diorissimo is still excellent and surprisingly modern for a fragrance concocted half a century ago. In any case, the composition settles after some time into the distinct lily of the valley note of cool white flowers. It stays close to skin for six hours, and occasionally wafts out its crisp green floral sillage.

Diorissimo came at a time when perfumes were fuzzy formulae. Its impression of a single flower might seem like a reversion to the tradition of soliflore at first, but the depth of Diorissimo begs to differ. Its character leaves a strong impression with simplicity and veiled complexity found in shades and nuances of muguet. In Diorissimo, Roudnitska painted a vernal backdrop for the lily of the valley. He did so with the Impressionistic touch of Debussy. No longer are the lilies of the valley confined to a delicate vase. The result is redolent of the muguet in its very habitat deep in the damp, earthy woodlands.

Source: dior.fr

Review: Hermès Muguet Porcelaine — 5.0 points

Lily of the valley or muguet is a classic example of flowers that refuse to yield a feasible quality or quantity of essence. Perfumers make it their eternal quest to capture its delicate scent. They initially constructed muguet based on combinations of essential oils, but later painted their ideas of the flower with the help of new aroma chemicals such as hydroxycitronellal, Lyral, and Lilial. But these were later found to be able to induce allergic reactions and are therefore restricted or even banned. Given such limitations, it is a creative challenge for perfumers to compose and interpret the scent of these white bells.

muguet ukhermes

Enter Muguet Porcelaine (Hermès, 2016), a testament to the mastery of perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena. The lily of the valley is vividly captured here with notes of fresh rose, spicy clove, jasmine, and green sap. A surprising melon accent makes the accord full-bodied with its fruity voluptuous touch. Its vivid beginning is as bright as the start of a fine spring day.

But as the clove-like freshness of its floral evaporates, the dewy greenery becomes more apparent. The interplay between peppery floral and watery green note keeps the muguet accord fresh. The sum is spot-lit, radiant lilies of the valley amidst their lush foliage. It also leaves a crisp green dry down that lingers for as long as six hours on me, and it has a green trail.

muguet.jpg

I adore it with just as much enthusiasm as I do Diorissimo (Dior, 1956). Whereas the latter is an impressionistic take that paints a mélange of muguets and damp woodlands, Muguet Porcelaine is a close study of muguet. Here, the white porcelain bells are clearly delineated with floral, spicy, and green nuances, and then nestled amidst their dewy leafy stalks. Perfumer Edmond Roudnitska gave a fantasy of vernal woodlands for Diorissimo, but Jean-Claude Ellena draws our attention also to its evergreen foliage — it provides just as beautiful a lush ground cover in summer and through to autumn. With Muguet Porcelaine, he met the creative challenge successfully and in his own way.

Source: uk.hermes.com

Review: Grès Cabochard — 5.0 points

Inspired by the ferocious whip of Bandit (Robert Piguet, 1944), perfumer Bernard Chant took to the leathery character and created Cabochard (Grès, 1959). The leather accord was softened and balanced with verdancy and florals. Cabochard itself would become a legacy amongst the family of leather chypres and inspire a number of perfumery’s classics such as Aramis (1965) and Chanel N°19 (1970).

fragrantica

From the start, the green combination of galbanum, armoise, and basil contrasts nicely with the earthy character. Styrallyl acetate in combination with aldehyde C-11 (undecylenic aldehyde) contribute to the green floral aspect. To complement the green, there is the freshness of mandarin and bergamot with linalool and linalyl acetate. The opening is certainly reminiscent of another era: bitter green with sharp freshness. It is bright and sparkling.

The composition reveals the floral heart as expected of a classical chypre. It is dominated by a bright jasmine accord different from those of Ma Griffe (Carven, 1946) or Miss Dior (1947), a fresh rose note, and hyacinth. Its radiance is imparted by a muguet note. Also, the relatively high content of sandalwood compared to other chypres provides the apparent softness to Cabochard. Such pairing of the jasmine accord and sandalwood would later be found in the masculine leather chypre territory of Aramis.

Then, glimpses of leather appear. Along with isobutyl quinoline, balsamic benzoin, a castoreum note, and a costus note give Cabochard its leather character. Interestingly, there is a similarity between Cabochard and Aramis in their use of isobutyl quinoline with the floral-powdery musk ambrette, which is now banned due to safety concerns.

The warmth of its chypre accord is built around patchouli, oakmoss, animalic notes, woody notes of vetiveryl acetate and cedryl acetate, and the amber note of Dynamone, which is a base derived from cistus. The accord is sweetened by methyl ionone. The use of aldehyde C-18 (γ-nonalactone) to lend a soft creamy touch emulates the use of peachy aldehyde C-14 (γ-undecalactone) in earlier chypres like that of Mitsouko (Guerlain, 1919). Spicy notes of cinnamon, clove, and a carnation accord provide a bright contrast to the dusky leathery character. The vegetal musk character of ambrettolide finally echoes the verdant top.

Cabochard is one of the few surviving leather chypre amongst feminine fragrances. Thanks to the brilliance of perfumer Bernard Chant, he extrapolated the iconic leather of Bandit. He softened the leather and gave it verdant florals. The interesting use of materials also gave Cabochard its creative twist and character. It stands on its own as another classic in the family. Although the reformulations may have rendered Cabochard more docile now, but one can still see a glimpse of its complex transformation.

Sources: fragrancex.com, Perfumery Practices and Principles