I was well into adulthood the first time I visited Paris, so growing up, my idea of what is "French" was more than a little simplistic*. My parents favorite music: Yves Montand, Edith Piaf and Jacques Brel, subtitled movies with neverending dialogs (I didn't get it until being introduced to Eric Rohmer's films), fabulous desserts and Nina Ricci perfumes.
Why Nina Ricci? I'm not entirely sure. Chanel No. 5 was probably too global and universal and Miss Dior wasn't that far behind it. Nina Ricci was a more exotic name and embodied something I couldn't quite identify. White gloves? Hats? It doesn't make much sense considering I grew up in the 70s and 80s, and these images were already on the vintage side back then. My mother didn't wear any Nina Ricci perfume, though she received them as gifts a couple of times because her first name is Nina.
Farouche, an 1974 release is pretty much my childhood idea of a French perfume. An Aldehdyc floral with some spicy carnation and what I can now identify as an oakmoss base, but a relatively tame one. It's not a diva kind of chypre and it doesn't hang out in smoke-filled bars. Farouche keeps the pearls and gloves on from start to finish and doesn't let me in on its secrets, if it has any.
Farouche is pretty but aloof. It doesn't seem to belong in the 70s- consider other 1974 releases like Cristalle or Sisley Eau de Campagne. It would probably have done better a decade earlier, but then again, maybe its kind of tame prettiness was never meant to be a big hit. After all, if you compare it to Caleche (original formula), a quite iconic aldehydic floral chypre from the 60s, Farouche has absolutely no chance.
Nina Ricci perfumes are no longer what they used to be. The house changed hands and is currently in the business of churning out fruity-florals. Farouche has all but disappeared, though it can be occasionally found online. A few sellers still have the gorgeous Lalique bottle priced around $375, but I was lucky enough to find a sealed and still in paper gift wrap small (regular)bottle of the parfum sold for pennies, which is what I reviewed here.
*With endless apologies to my French readers.
Photo of Farouche in the Lalique bottle by Leora Long
Grace Coddington (yes, that Grace Coddington) in a Nina Ricci suit by photographer John French, 1965
Nina Ricci coats and hats from 1961 by Mark Shaw
Why Nina Ricci? I'm not entirely sure. Chanel No. 5 was probably too global and universal and Miss Dior wasn't that far behind it. Nina Ricci was a more exotic name and embodied something I couldn't quite identify. White gloves? Hats? It doesn't make much sense considering I grew up in the 70s and 80s, and these images were already on the vintage side back then. My mother didn't wear any Nina Ricci perfume, though she received them as gifts a couple of times because her first name is Nina.
Farouche, an 1974 release is pretty much my childhood idea of a French perfume. An Aldehdyc floral with some spicy carnation and what I can now identify as an oakmoss base, but a relatively tame one. It's not a diva kind of chypre and it doesn't hang out in smoke-filled bars. Farouche keeps the pearls and gloves on from start to finish and doesn't let me in on its secrets, if it has any.
Farouche is pretty but aloof. It doesn't seem to belong in the 70s- consider other 1974 releases like Cristalle or Sisley Eau de Campagne. It would probably have done better a decade earlier, but then again, maybe its kind of tame prettiness was never meant to be a big hit. After all, if you compare it to Caleche (original formula), a quite iconic aldehydic floral chypre from the 60s, Farouche has absolutely no chance.
Nina Ricci perfumes are no longer what they used to be. The house changed hands and is currently in the business of churning out fruity-florals. Farouche has all but disappeared, though it can be occasionally found online. A few sellers still have the gorgeous Lalique bottle priced around $375, but I was lucky enough to find a sealed and still in paper gift wrap small (regular)bottle of the parfum sold for pennies, which is what I reviewed here.
*With endless apologies to my French readers.
Photo of Farouche in the Lalique bottle by Leora Long
Grace Coddington (yes, that Grace Coddington) in a Nina Ricci suit by photographer John French, 1965
Nina Ricci coats and hats from 1961 by Mark Shaw
