Hahna (1919)

Hahna by Rosine, launched in 1919, occupies a delicate space between exotic fantasy and modern olfactory storytelling. The name “Hahna” is thought to be a stylized interpretation of the Japanese word hana (花), meaning “flower.” It's pronounced “HAH-nah.” Though the spelling is Frenchified, the word evokes a sense of East Asian delicacy and mystery—an exoticism that fascinated European fashion and perfume circles at the time. It conjures images of distant gardens, moonlit water lilies, and veiled courtyards rich with the scent of uncommon blossoms.

Poiret’s choice of name, and the dual subtitles “L’Étrange Fleur” (The Strange Flower) and later “La Fleur Secrète” (The Secret Flower), point to the fantasy-driven Orientalism that permeated postwar French design. In the aftermath of World War I, 1919 marked the start of Les Années Folles—the French equivalent of the Roaring Twenties—a period of cultural reinvention and luxurious escapism. Women were emerging from the austerity of wartime, embracing shorter skirts, bobbed hair, and modern freedom. Perfume, like fashion, turned outward toward the exotic: distant lands, mystical flora, and sensual freedom. Poiret, long a proponent of Eastern influences in fashion and fragrance, capitalized on this sensibility.

Qui Es-Tu? (1926)

Qui Es-Tu? by Les Parfums de Rosine was launched in 1926, a time when Paul Poiret—ever the master of drama, elegance, and narrative—was still weaving stories into scent. The title, Qui Es-Tu?, pronounced "kee ess too", is French for "Who Are You?" A question that is both intimate and philosophical, it invites reflection, flirtation, and a touch of mystery. It was even rumored to reference a popular stage play or musical refrain of the time, a cultural echo not uncommon in Poiret’s naming conventions, which often flirted with art, poetry, and performance. Here, the name acts like an invitation or a challenge: a direct address to the woman who dares to wear it, or to the admirer drawn in by her fragrance.

In an advertisement, Qui Es-Tu? was described as “a question to which the lilacs will respond to the rose,” evoking a poetic dialogue between two of perfumery’s most expressive blooms. There’s a gentle flirtation in this floral exchange—an interplay of sweetness and powder, bloom and bud, innocence and allure. The perfume was further described as “a delicate blend with just the faintest hint of spice for interest,” and “a light spicy perfume, sharp and refreshing to use.” This duality made it especially appealing to the modern woman of the 1920s—a decade that celebrated female independence, artistic experimentation, and the fluid boundaries between gender roles, fashion, and scent.

Ambre de Venise (1925)

Ambre de Venise by Les Parfums de Rosine was launched in 1925, a time when the world was reveling in modernity and artistic expression following the upheaval of the First World War. The name—Ambre de Venise—means “Amber of Venice” in French (pronounced Ahm-bruh duh Vuh-neez), a title that evokes an air of opulence, old-world grandeur, and the sensual mystery of the East filtered through a European lens. Venice, historically a gateway between East and West, conjures images of gilded palazzos, candlelit salons, and masked revelers drifting through twilight canals. By choosing this name, Paul Poiret linked his fragrance to a place steeped in romance, decadence, and history—one that perfectly aligned with the nostalgic elegance of amber.

Amber perfumes—particularly those built around natural ambergris—had long held an esteemed place in the perfumer’s repertoire. Their warm, resinous, musky character made them both comforting and sensuous, and nearly every perfumery offered its own version by the late 19th century. Ambre de Venise was Poiret’s answer to this tradition, but with a refined and modernized touch, reflecting the shifting tastes of the Art Deco period. Fashion in 1925 embraced exoticism, streamlined elegance, and opulent detail—elements Poiret had helped pioneer in earlier decades with his flowing, Eastern-inspired designs. Perfume followed suit, favoring richness, complexity, and allure over light floral simplicity. Against this backdrop, Ambre de Venise would have felt both timeless and timely.

Women of the 1920s, liberated from the constraints of Edwardian fashion and societal norms, embraced perfumes that were bold, mature, and suggestive of independence and luxury. A perfume named Ambre de Venise would have appealed to the woman who desired to express her depth and sensuality—someone who wanted to wear a scent that lingered like a velvet curtain in a Venetian opera house. To her, the fragrance would not have been just a perfume, but a portal into another world—rich with silks, shadows, and golden light.