Aladin by Les Parfums de Rosine, launched in 1919, emerged from Paul Poiret’s deep fascination with the exoticism and fantasy of the East—what was then broadly termed “Orientalism.” The name Aladin (pronounced "ah-lah-dan" in French, or Aladdin in English) evokes the legendary figure from One Thousand and One Nights, the boy with the magic lamp, who unlocks fantastical treasures and discovers boundless power. In naming this perfume Aladin, Poiret summoned the spirit of wonder, seduction, and mystery—a fragrance designed to transport the wearer into a world of golden palaces, enchanted gardens, and star-lit adventures in silk-draped tents.
Trademarked for perfume use on May 28, 1919, Aladin arrived in a world still recovering from the devastation of World War I. It was the beginning of Les Années Folles, or the Roaring Twenties in France—a time of artistic rebellion, bold fashion, and a craving for escapism. Poiret, known as the self-styled “Pasha of Paris,” was a master of this moment. His fashion, interiors, and perfumes were infused with theatricality and drama, drawn heavily from North African, Middle Eastern, and Asian influences. The packaging of Aladin reflected this fantasy: a lavish box illustrated by Mario Simon, depicting Poiret himself as a luxurious sultan—an echo of his costume balls and theatrical life.
In this context, Aladin spoke directly to the desires of the modern woman of the 1920s. No longer bound entirely by Victorian restraint, she sought sensuality, liberation, and beauty through perfume and fashion. To wear Aladin was to participate in a fantasy of romance and opulence, a world far removed from the drab reality of postwar life. Women of the time would have found the name intoxicating—both playful and daring—a scent for dreamers and women seeking a whisper of the East without ever leaving Paris.
As a fragrance, Aladin was classified as an oriental—a genre just beginning to find its footing in fine perfumery. With its rich spices, resins, and exotic florals, Aladin stood apart from the brighter, more floral compositions of the Belle Époque. It was, instead, a declaration of sensual power and mystery. Described as capturing “all the allure of grand Moorish palaces,” it featured ambergris, sandalwood, cinnamon, and other resinous ingredients that conjured warm, gilded interiors and embroidered silks.
In the landscape of perfumery at the time, Aladin was not merely in line with trends—it was helping to create them. It anticipated the rise of oriental perfumes that would dominate the 1920s and beyond, most famously with Guerlain’s Shalimar in 1925. As such, Aladin represents one of the earliest expressions of the modern oriental fragrance—an olfactory fairy tale spun in the language of desire, elegance, and faraway dreams.
Fragrance Composition:
- Top notes: aldehyde C-12 MNA, Calabrian bergamot, Amalfi lemon zest, Portuguese sweet orange oil, Paraguayan petitgrain, anisic aldehyde, Ceylon cardamom, Russian coriander
- Middle notes: Jamaican nutmeg, Szechuan cinnamon bark, Indian carnation absolute, Zanzibar clove bud oil, eugenol, Bulgarian rose otto, Moroccan rose absolute, Grasse jasmine absolute, Tunisian orange blossom absolute, hydroxycitronellal, Nossi-Be ylang ylang, benzyl salicylate, Omani frankincense, Somali olibanum
- Base notes: Sudanese myrrh, Mexican vanilla, ambergris, Siam benzoin, Mysore sandalwood, , Penang patchouli, Haitian vetiver, Austrian oakmoss, Cyprus labdanum, Venezuelan tonka bean, coumarin, Tibetan musk, musk ketone, Abyssinian civet, Peru balsam, Colombian tolu balsam, guaiac wood, Atlas cedar, Levantine storax
Scent Profile:
Aladin by Rosine opens like the gilded doors of a grand Moorish palace—each breath an invitation into a tale spun from the Thousand and One Nights. Its top notes shimmer with aldehyde C-12 MNA, a synthetic molecule that imparts a waxy freshness tinged with metallic brightness, evoking cool white marble and sunlight on silk.
This is quickly softened by the radiant citrus oils: Calabrian bergamot, prized for its balance of green bitterness and floral zest, and Amalfi lemon zest, which sparkles with sunlit acidity. Portuguese sweet orange oil adds a honeyed juiciness, while Paraguayan petitgrain, extracted from the twigs and leaves of the bitter orange tree, anchors the opening with a green, woody tang. A breath of anisic aldehyde lends a subtle, powdery sweetness, like a whisper of sugared anise pastilles. Then comes a flicker of spice: Ceylon cardamom, with its warm citrusy camphor note, and Russian coriander, drier and more resinous than its Moroccan cousin, offer the first hint of the opulence to come.
As the fragrance deepens into its heart, the air grows warmer, more intimate. Spices unfold like embroidered silks: Jamaican nutmeg, with its warm, woody pungency, is softened by the dry, fiery kiss of Szechuan cinnamon bark. The floral notes blossom fully now. Indian carnation absolute provides a rich, clove-like nuance, made more complex by Zanzibar clove bud oil, its fiery strength tempered by the cool spiciness of eugenol, the compound that gives clove its character.
Three varieties of rose form the centerpiece: the peppery, earthy Bulgarian rose otto, the opulent and honeyed Moroccan rose absolute, and the green-leafy, dewy Grasse rose, each petal unfurling a different shade of femininity. Grasse jasmine absolute adds a narcotic, almost indolic sensuality, while Tunisian orange blossom absolute offers sun-drenched sweetness with an undercurrent of waxy depth.
Hydroxycitronellal, a soft, synthetic floral molecule, gives the illusion of fresh lily-of-the-valley and balances the indolic tones. Nossi-Be ylang ylang, from a rare offshoot of Madagascar, contributes banana-tinged creaminess and roundness. Benzyl salicylate, a versatile fixative and modifier, wraps the florals in a smooth, almost musky warmth. Wisps of sacred Omani frankincense and Somali olibanum curl through the florals like incense in an ancient chapel—dry, citrusy, and quietly sacred.
Then the base emerges, deep and resonant, like nightfall in the palace garden. Sudanese myrrh casts a bitter resinous shadow that contrasts the earlier sweetness, while Mexican vanilla, warm and caramelic, rises like sugared smoke. Ambergris, one of perfumery’s rarest materials, lends a saline, marine whisper that glows from within—soft, skin-like, and addictive. Siam benzoin lends a soft, balsamic roundness with hints of cinnamon and resin.
Mysore sandalwood, no longer available today in its true vintage form, was once buttery, creamy, and sacred—far richer than the generic sandalwood of other regions. Penang patchouli, aged and rounded, provides an earthy, chocolatey undertone. Haitian vetiver adds smoky, green-grassy roots, while Austrian oakmoss brings a cool forest-floor dampness and velvety shadow. Cyprus labdanum is leathery and ambery, evoking tanned skins and desert winds. Venezuelan tonka bean brings its creamy almond and hay-like sweetness, while coumarin, a synthetic version of its aroma, enhances it with clarity and longevity.
Animalics shimmer through the base like shadows behind gauze: Tibetan musk, musk ketone, and Abyssinian civet all contribute warmth, sensuality, and a feral allure that lies just beneath the skin. Peru balsam and Colombian tolu balsam lend a cherry-resin softness. Guaiac wood and Atlas cedar deepen the base with a smoky, waxed-wood quality, while Levantine storax adds the final trace of darkness—a soft, inky balsamic line that ties the whole into a perfume of impossible grandeur.
Aladin is not simply a fragrance—it’s a story told in scent, one of spice markets, tiled palaces, glowing lanterns, and soft desert winds. It seduces not with brashness, but with layers of richness and complexity, each note unfolding like a secret whispered through a silk curtain.
Bottles:
The perfume Aladin by Les Parfums de Rosine was housed in one of the most visually enchanting and symbolically rich flacons of its time—a frosted glass bottle shaped like a snuff bottle, molded in bas-relief with dramatic scenes of mythological creatures locked in combat. These swirling forms were heightened by a rusty red patina that filled the recessed areas, giving the impression of a timeworn artifact unearthed from a distant past. This clever use of patina brought both dimensionality and a romantic sense of antiquity to the bottle. Two molded loops at the shoulders were not simply decorative—they were functional elements, allowing a delicate brass chain to be attached so the bottle could be carried or displayed, much like a precious object from an Orientalist fantasy.
Affixed toward the base was a long, slender silvery paper label that bore the name Aladin, complementing the bottle’s ornamental form without detracting from its rich surface decoration. These imaginative flacons were almost certainly designed in collaboration between Paul Poiret and his friend Maurice Schaller, the renowned perfumer-glassmaker who helped realize many of Rosine’s extraordinary bottles. The production of the flacons was carried out by Depinoix and Lefebure et Cie., whose craftsmanship brought Poiret’s theatrical vision into the realm of tangible, collectible luxury.
An equally stunning variation of the Aladin bottle was made in cast silvery metal, designed to mimic ancient Persian metalwork. Like the glass version, it too bore the same mythological battle scenes and was enhanced with red patina for visual depth. The metal version featured an integrated chain and molded lettering in place of a paper label—“Rosine” and “Aladin” were cast directly into the surface where a label would typically appear. Standing about 3 inches tall with its stopper in place, the metal version was a tactile and visual echo of the glass flacon, equally luxurious and just as collectible.
The stoppers for both bottles were crafted from early Bakelite, a material that allowed for intricate molding. These were designed with a pierced, carved effect and could be found in shades mimicking antique materials: aged ivory, green-stained bone, or warm amber. A practical yet charming detail was the carved notch at the top of each stopper. This allowed the factory to pass a baudruchage cord through it and wrap it securely around the neck of the bottle, effectively sealing the perfume within and preventing any leakage during shipment. This detail also added an artisanal finish, signaling quality and care.
But it is perhaps the packaging that most thoroughly embodied Poiret’s flair for storytelling. Designed by artist Mario Simon, the presentation box mirrored the exoticism of the fragrance and the bottle itself. Covered in richly printed paper that simulated Persian lacquerwork, the box was shaped to fit the flask precisely. Its lid featured an illustrated Persian miniature depicting Paul Poiret himself, costumed as a Persian sultan—an embodiment of Aladdin and Poiret’s own fantasy persona, the self-styled “Pasha of Paris.” A wide gold band framed the miniature, adding to its jewel-like allure.
The interior of the box continued this sensory journey. It was lined in striped multicolored West Indian fabric, chosen to mimic ancient Persian textiles. As with many of Poiret’s other creations, the textiles likely came from his personal collection of antique fabrics, which he often repurposed for couture or presentation pieces. A version of the same box was used for the metal flask, though it omitted the gold outer band framing the lid. However, it retained the same striped fabric lining, ensuring that the opulence of the interior matched the fantasy of the exterior.
Altogether, the Aladin presentation—a perfume, a bottle, and a box—was not merely packaging; it was a complete narrative in three dimensions. Each element reflected Poiret’s deep engagement with Orientalism, fantasy, and visual theater, transporting its wearer into a perfumed tale of Arabian nights and Parisian dreams.
Oregon News, 1920:
"Aladin Rosine" is lettered on a Chinese sort of silver bottle with jade green colored stopper perforated so that the fragrance may perfume the room."
Fate of the Fragrance:
Launched in 1919, Aladin by Les Parfums de Rosine emerged into a world just beginning to recover from the trauma of World War I. The fragrance was part of Paul Poiret’s continued dedication to storytelling through scent, and Aladin captured the spirit of escapism that many yearned for in the postwar years. Inspired by the mythical figure from The Thousand and One Nights, Aladin offered wearers a sense of exotic fantasy and sumptuous luxury—an olfactory carpet ride to grand Moorish palaces, intricate tiled courtyards, and spice-scented markets far from modern Europe's disillusionment.
However, Aladin’s dazzling journey was ultimately cut short. When Les Parfums de Rosine shuttered its doors in 1930, Aladin was among the many fragrances discontinued with it. The closure of the house marked the end of a truly unique chapter in perfume history—one that blended haute couture with perfumery, art with marketing, and fantasy with craftsmanship. Even though bottles of Aladin could still be found in shops as leftover stock into the early 1930s, the perfume itself would never again be produced. Its disappearance, like the fading light of an Oriental lantern, signaled not just the end of a scent, but the close of an era defined by Poiret’s imagination, theatricality, and fearless pursuit of beauty.
