Toute La Foret (1911)

Launched in 1911 by Paul Poiret’s perfume house Rosine, Toute La Forêt—which translates from French as “The Whole Forest” (pronounced “toot lah for-ay”)—is a fragrance that captures more than a scent: it encapsulates a moment, a place, and a mood. The name alone evokes a complete immersion into nature, an olfactory painting of the woods rendered in rich, impressionistic strokes. It is a name that stirs images of dew-laced ferns, rustling leaves underfoot, the faint sweetness of blossoms just budding in springtime, and the cool, earthy hush of dawn deep within the trees.

Poiret chose this evocative name to reference the forest of Fontainebleau, located just southeast of Paris. Fontainebleau was a beloved retreat for artists and aristocrats alike, famed for its royal château and expansive woodlands. It had long inspired painters of the Barbizon School, and now, under Poiret’s vision, it inspired perfume. For Poiret, who was redefining the way women dressed—releasing them from corsets and into fluid silhouettes—it made sense to offer a fragrance to match that freedom. Toute La Forêt was meant to be worn with the new garments of ease and movement, particularly sportswear. Yet, the fragrance’s green, woody character—so grounded in nature—also suggested an androgynous elegance that would appeal to men as well.

When the perfume launched, Europe was on the cusp of immense transformation. The Belle Époque, marked by artistic flourishing, lavish living, and rapid innovation, was nearing its end. World War I loomed just three years away. Fashion was becoming more practical, influenced by a growing desire for comfort and functionality. In perfumery, heavy orientals and overly romantic florals still dominated, but new green and fougère styles were emerging. Toute La Forêt was notably ahead of its time, eschewing opulence in favor of clarity and grounded freshness.

Nuit Persane (1911) and Nuit de Chine (1912)

Nuit Persane by Rosine was launched in 1911.

Paul Poiret invited his friends and the well to do Parisians to his extravagant parties. These parties were inspired by the opulence of the Orient. Paul Poiret reveals his idea in his 1930 memoir "It was on returning from a Bal des Quat'z-Arts [a very famous annual ball in Paris], in May 1911 I believe, that I decided upon an unforgettable party in my lounges and gardens in Paris which I called "The Thousand and Second Night". I'd gathered together several artists and I placed my means at their disposal to put together an ensemble that nobody had ever created before that time."

His first party, jointly inspired by the book A Thousand and One Nights and the Leon Bakst costume designs for the opera Scheherazade that performed a year earlier, was christened “la mille et deuxième nuit” (The Thousand and Second Night), and was held on June 24, 1911. Its theme was all things Persian with a seductive nod towards the secluded fantasies and interludes of a sultan's harem. "The antique Orient is a mine of information to me," said Poiret. Poiret had an affinity with all things Eastern, claiming to have been a Persian prince in a previous life.

The exclusive ball was held at Poiret's grand late 18th century mansion, formerly known as Hôtel du Gouverneur des Pages, located on at 26 avenue d'Antin. The property stood on a roughly triangular piece of land on the Right Bank of Paris that bordered on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, the rue de la Boetie, the avenue d'Antin, and the rue du Colisee. At 26, avenue d'Antin, Paul Poiret used both as his personal home and the headquarters of his couture business. Poiret also owned a smaller but very covetable space in back of his great house. Its garden faced onto the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, which then as now was a particularly elegant street. (Poiret's home at 26 avenue d'Antin with its garden were destroyed in 1925 and replaced by a modern building, the seat of the Scalbert-Dupont bank, today it houses the Banque Transatlantique). 

His mansion was transformed into the Palace of Abadan, during the party, its expansive gardens were illuminated with the glow from pierced hanging lanterns, scented by a mixture of its lush flora and the heady incense smoldering in brass braziers. 

At dawn, improvised slaves unrolled carpets on the gravel pathways, in front of the monumental steps, and a Persian "priest" named Andre Segonzac, on his knees, bare forehead, bare arms, gave the signal for the worship of the sun. Roger de la Fresnaye, to get ready to do the same, proceeded, as a good Ismaili Muslim - his impeccable suit had been lent by Mardrus - to dip his feet and hands in a gushing fountain among the rosebushes in the center of the lawn . Poiret admired such perfect knowledge of his role. He asked, "Why Ismaili?" Mardrus said "Because Ismailis can drink wine."

 

Also added to create the theme of a Persian harem, were colorful exotic tents laden with plush Oriental carpets and comfortable low divans with plenty of cushions and pillows strewn inside. The garden with its tall latticework, overflowed with its evergreen shrubbery, cool marble steps, elegant statues and sparkling water fountains. Poiret bragged that a bust in his garden was taken from the ancient ruins of Pompeii, and described it as "at first glance it seems but a block of marble, but it seems to become a magnificently healthy young woman, among the study of details. I note the marvelous back, the rounded shoulders, and the perfect torso."

The verdant atmosphere was filled with the sights and sounds of tropical birds fluttering overhead such as multicolored parrots and Arabian bulbul, a type of sparrow. Furiously intended to be exclusive and enviably private, Poiret mentions in his 1930 memoir En habillant l'époque, that "the house was closed off by tapestries, so that those looking in from the street couldn't see through into it." Years later, Poiret sadly reminisced in his memoir, that "these fêtes, in which I gathered together all my friends, did me a great deal of harm among my enemies, and raised against me those who had not the good fortune to be admitted to them."

Those lucky enough to be invited to the fete received beautiful invitations comprised up of two different elements, each hand made by Poiret's friends. First to be given was a programme, featuring a wood blocked print which was painstakingly engraved by celebrated artist Raoul Dufy. 

Each of the three hundred copies of this programme was accented with gouache hand decorated by the painter himself, in effect, causing each programme to become a one of a kind art piece. In his memoir, he shows us an example "Here I provide a copy of the programme, which will better explain the means I used to fire their imaginations. The artists, stimulated by this document, were all keen to reply to my appeal in a flattering manner, which is what created the marvelous situation which I shall tell you all about!" The programme and its text translated from French is as follows:

"And this will be the Thousand and Second Night. And on this particular night there won't be any clouds in the sky and nothing of what exists will exist. There will be the lights & perfumes & flutes and timpani & drums of the women's sighs & the birdsong of the Bulbul. Straight and in a single casting like the Aleph letter, slender & flexible like the branch of the Tan Tree, she will dance as beautifully as the Moon, your sight and your hearing will be absolutely delighted to the very point of rejoicing. The miming, which is clever & rich in artifice, will improvise with beautiful & well-played scenes, and softer than disheveled honey cake will be the poet's verses. As regards the old, myopic potter, he will be in his shop as they will be in theirs & the slave trader for whom the least beautiful is worth a thousand gold dinars and the filthy cobbler and the doddery old tailor and the divine blind man and the chef from the land of Sindh. And this is for them. And we shall see some rather extraordinary things & and some staggering marvels. There will be a white Carnelian vase. And there will also be a lot of other things which would be interminable to list. And in addition we'll enter via Faubourg St. Honoré and it will be the Thousand and Second Night".

In addition to the programme card, a reply card with a detachable coupon for invited guests to present when entering the party. The artist Georges Lepape had painted the profile of a Persian styled prince encased in a black triangle accented with shades of emerald and gold gouache. The text on this reply card is as follows (translated from French):

"THE THOUSAND & SECOND NIGHT AT PAUL POIRET'S. The party will take place on Saturday 24 June 1911. It shall be postponed in the event of bad weather. A costume borrowed from Oriental tales is an absolute must. 0930 hours R. S. V. P."

According to the reply card, Poiret required all 300 of his guests clothed in special Persian style costumes harkening "The Thousand and One Night" tales as told by Scheherazade and each person played a part as if it were a quasi theatre production rather than a mere fete. For instance, Poiret's painter friend, Andre Dunoyer de Segonzac was told to come as "Champagne, His Majesty's Valet", and his artist friend Raoul Dufy was to arrive dressed as "The King's Fool".

However, if the guests did not come appropriately dressed per the invitation request, they were promptly escorted to a wardrobe and change their clothing into the flamboyant Persian styles he specially created for the occasion. One such costume created to be worn at the ball is the sumptuously bejeweled example below, the lucky soul who had the great fortune to have worn it is regrettably unknown.

Some of Poiret's friends and known customers had their ensembles created by non other than Poiret himself. One of these friends was Elisabeth Barrachin Germaine, the daughter of rich industrialist Pierre Barrachin. Poiret created a superbly embellished silver lame costume so that she would be the "Queen of Persia" during the party. It was Mme Barrachine who later became the Marquise de Ségur in 1925 upon her marriage to Philippe, Count de Ségur-Lamoigon.

Overall, the clothing was a mixture of sumptuous velvets, silks, lames, organzas, satins, tulles and other diaphanous fabrics, Russian silver bobbin lace, metallic gold laces, precious pearls, twinkling glass jewels, thick bouillon fringes, fluffy ostrich plumes, exotic textiles and more. Also included were the requisite jewelry and flamboyant headdresses, many of them incorporating a turban of some sort and topped with a feather aigrette. Poiret said that In my studio in Paris, "I am surrounded by large wardrobes. Artists who visit me are surprised at finding such a temple of useless things, but I am sure you would find it interesting. People of all nations deposit a remnant of their dress here, and you will find antique shoes, belts and headdresses, queer and ancient vestments, ecclesiastical garments, thick plushes, royal velvets, laces that have been taken from altar cloths, fancy Venise laces of large design, laces from Milan, and laces of silver and gold, large ornaments and military paraphernalia, printed cretonnes, embroidered muslins and plaid handkerchiefs. Look further and you will see fringes and pipings, Oriental trinkets and glass beads, and beads worn by the Egyptians. Next to these are shimmering satins, wonderful embroideries from Russian peasant dresses, scarfs from Bokhara, cashmere shawls, and Egyptian prints."

Poiret further explained in his memoir that "we were greeted as if we were entering a theatre, by a group of elderly gentlemen in evening dress, inspectors if you like, who didn't joke and carefully dissected the guests...I was familiar with the carelessness of some of my regular visitors and I'd planned for just such an eventuality...Some refused to dress up as I'd have liked and withdrew, while other wise guests accepted the costume I imposed on them." He goes on to reveal a portion of a conversation that took place with such guests:

Poiret - "Excuse me Sir, you're in evening dress. It's a fancy dress party. I'm afraid you cannot be allowed to enter."

Guest - "But Sir, my evening dress is covered with an authentic Chinese coat."

Poiret - "Sir, we are not in China, we are in Persia, and your costume has no place in this context. As such I cannot allow you in unless you switch costume."

Guest - "At this hour, that's impossible."

Poiret - "Excuse me Sir, should you wish to go up to the first floor, we can improvise a Persian costume for you, with the authentic documents, which will do you credit and would be in keeping with the whole party."

Party at Paul's by Montoison, 1911:

"And around ten o'clock. Announced in the deep, full voice of Ernest La Jeunesse, in front of the enclosed living room: Open Sesame!

Then the living room opened and the riot of the guests spread over the sumptuous tapestries lent by the Clichy Palace. Thus began this unforgettable night that a fashion designer, modest and Parisian, dreamed of adding to the incomplete splendors of the Thousand and One Other Nights (Arabian Nights). He had invited a few clients, many charming women, and a number of illustrious personalities. Audacious artist, but enemy of publicity, promoter of new elegances, the master had drawn up a program which announced foreign things. There will be lights and perfumes, flutes, women's suppers...birdsong. There was all of that. 

During the dazzle of that evening which took place in many of the vast rooms of the hotel. Temple of couture, only in the half-light of the huge park that surrounds it. Sixty negroes, along a trellised wall, formed the darkness. A basin of onyx, jade and zinc, painted entirely by hand, where transparent carp swam, allowed a thin trickle of colored water to rise. Multicolored eggs, hit by a guest's ball, fell, constantly renewed, into a boiled leather basin. Nothing had stopped the splendor of the master.

Couples of sultanas, draped in the most admirable fabrics, were stretched out here and there, in the shade of the tall palm trees, or the giant firs, standing along the sidewalk. Everywhere, a profusion, a deluge of lights. A powerful projector intended to replace the moon, veiled like everyone else, illuminated the harmonious group of models and saleswomen, and these young ladies smiled in all the rays. A fresh and light gentle breeze, obligingly lent by Luna-Park, seemed to come from the open bodices.

Sitting orientally among animal skins and furs of incredible luxury - strips of sables and heads of skunks - Paul contemplated his work. He had donned the beaded tunic which made him successful at a previous ball, the authentic costume of Tiglath-Pileser III, king of Assyria in 745-27.

The motley crowd of guests gravitated around him. Princess M.[Princess Lucien Murat]...was nonchalantly stretched out on quasi-royal cushions.. Prince R...in a turban, cheeky as in the circle, seemed, in front of the Russian dancers, to lose food and drink. The painter S [Segonzac] was doing his nails with a Bagdad penknife, and M. Z., [Italian dancer Carlotta Zambelli] next to Harún al-Roschild [character in Jorge Max Rohde book, combination of the Baron de Rothschild and Harun-al-Rashid], felt the first troubles of opium. Finally, [Edouard de] Max came...the famous artist had announced that he would be carrying more than four million pearls on his person, collected at the momentary grace of an American friend. He came, however, without pearls, but draped in black transparencies. He mingled with the tangle of beautiful odalisques, until he passionately spoke to the audience, in the warmth of the night, colored verses.

Weird melodies passed very slowly. Groups of mulatto girls, seated on three steps of pink marble, were singing. Hidden under a tiny geranium pot, a gigantic and disturbing barrel organ was rocking the couplets of ancient romance: 'Ah! Persia...Persia...Persia again.' Further on, seated in a circle, women writers were listening to a bearded man who was saying strange things, dressed in light muslins.

Farandoles [a lively Provençal dance in which the dancers join hands and wind in and out in a chain] glided. Petticoats circled around baskets of flowers. All in the finest black, the servants circulated sorbets or, discreetly, the faint traces of intermittent negroes asserted themselves. Three extra boys, completely naked, but with their faces veiled, and recruited in the street of Téhéran, chant poems where the words: 'Orjáh [formerly Edessa]..Limon-Had, Biehr.'.. came back as a mysterious leitmotif. Others, summoned every minute by the repeated strokes of a rattlesnake, offered to those who did not smoke opium, the great Nabuchodonozor (Nebuchadnezzar). And the fullness of the lamé panties was, for some, asylum on the munificence of an unequaled buffet.

The morning dawn alone interrupted this curious symphony. And until morning, Paul, alone under his canopy, still squatting among the animal skins where the light moths were fluttering, took antipyrine while thinking of the imminent creation of a bold skirt.

Once the guests were properly attired, Poiret explained that they "went through into a second lounge in small groups, where a half-naked Negro, draped in Bukhara silks [a town to the South of Uzbekistan, known for its luxurious textiles] and equipped with a flaming torch and a yataghan [an Oriental sword with a curved blade], grouped them together and brought them to me. Initially they traversed a sandy courtyard where, beneath a blue and gold canopy, fountains gushed forth in porcelain basins. One would have said that it was reminiscent of the sunny patio from some of Aladdin's palaces. Through the canopy's colors fell multicolored light. They went up a few steps and found themselves in front of a huge golden cage, fenced off with twisted fittings, and inside which I had locked away my favorite mistress (Mrs Poiret), surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who sang authentic Persian tunes. Mirrors, sorbets, aquariums, small birds, cloth and feathers, such were the distractions for the queen of the harem and her ladies-in-waiting. "

As we learned from Poiret, the centerpiece of the occasion was his wife Denise, imprisoned like a fancifully colored bird in an opulently gilded cage with a royal blue canopy embroidered with Poiret's initials. Dressed in character as the "Queen of the Harem." Poiret's fashions were no longer bound by the restrictions of the corset, and Denise's legs were encased in ivory diaphanous jupe-culottes (loose harem pants), and matching blouse, fitted with a golden sash strapped around her waist, topped with a gold fringed "minaret" or "lampshade" skirt, inspired by Poiret's costumery for Ballets Russe's production of Scheherazade. Denise wore a shimmering ivory lame turban carefully wrapped around her head which was adorned with a large fluffy egret feather aigrette to complete the ensemble. Lucie Delarue-Mardrus will write in Fémina, “Madame Paul Poiret, this all-white sultana, in the midst of so many shadows and light, seemed to delighted eyes, a lily transformed into a woman.”

Poiret, playing host, was dressed as the Sultan "Poiret the Magnificent", which he was henceforth to be called during the party. He wore a silver metallic lamé costume partly covered by a cloak, and crowned by a lame turban wound about his head complete with a small aigrette. His costume was trimmed with hand embroidery and lace surrounded by silver metal blades, its alternating lace patterns were covered with gold blades; his version of typical oriental décor adorned with arabesques. Poiret was armed with a trusty dagger suspended from a wide green belt encircling his waist. 

After encountering Denise, Poiret said that "we then entered a lounge, where there was a jet of water, which appeared to come up out of the rug and drop back down into an iridescent crystal bowl. In the following room, which was accessible via two wide doors, there was a bank of multicolored cushions all gathered together and embroidered, at the summit of which was crouched the grand tragedian [Edouard de] Max. He was dressed in a black silk gandoura [a light tunic, in wool or cotton, with or without sleeves] and wore innumerable pearls on a chain around his neck. He told me that one of his American lady friends had entrusted him with all her jewels that evening (there were three million Francs worth). He recounted stories taken from a Thousand and One Nights, a finger raised in the air in line with the traditional gesture of the oriental storytellers, and the onlookers, both men and women alike, were crouched around him in a circle."

"Without stopping in this passageway, we went through into the garden which was both dark and mysterious. Rugs covered the flagstones of the steps leading to the entrance and sand covered the paths, so as any noise was muffled there and a great silence reigned. Overwhelmed, the walkers spoke in low voices, as if they were in a mosque. In the middle of the embroidered flooring sat the white carnelian vase announced on the programme. Lights concealed within the surrounding foliage illuminated it in a bizarre manner. From it escaped a slender jet of water, similar to what you see in the Persian engravings, and pink ibises strolled all about taking in this coolness and this light for themselves. Some of the trees were covered in dark blue fruits of light; others sported berries of purple light. Live monkeys, macaws and parrots brightened up all this greenery, which looked like an entrance to a deep park. One can spot me at the far end, looking like some kind of swarthy sultan with a white beard, holding an ivory whip. Around me, on the steps up to my throne, all the concubines are stretched out and lascivious and appear to be awaiting and dreading my anger. It is here that the guests were led in small groups to bow and scrape according to Islamic tradition."

"Once my three hundred guests were gathered together, I rose and, followed by all my ladies, I headed towards my favorite mistress' cage, who I set free. She escaped as a bird might escape, and I hurried off in pursuit of her, cracking my unnecessary whip. She disappeared into the crowd. Did we know that evening that we were telling the drama of our life?" 

Guest and friend of Poiret, Georges Lepape retained a vivid memory of the party saying "All the guests were asked to wear Persian costumes, and they came in to find themselves beneath a vast awning. There they were greeted by six ebony-black negroes, stripped to the waist and wearing baggy trousers of muslin silk in Veronese green, lemon, orange and vermillion. they bowed low before us: 'Come!' And so you passed on through the salons, which were heaped with cushions of all colors and arrived in the gardens spread with Persian rugs. There were parrots in the trees and little bands of Eastern musicians and flute players hidden among the bushes. As you advanced you came across booths of the sort found in Aran souks, craftsmen at work and acrobats of all kinds. Your footsteps were muffled by the rugs, but you could hear the rustle of the silk and satin costumes...Suddenly a miniature firework flared from behind a bush, then another and another. It was like fairyland."

Lepape was so taken by the spectacle that he painted the moment of Denise being freed by the Sultan from the gilded cage. The gouache painting showing her magnificent costume, was presented to her as a souvenir of the occasion.

"Whilst the twenty male negroes and twenty female negroes kept the perfume burners fueled with myrrhs and incenses, whose blue smoke filled the atmosphere, a flute and a zither could be heard in a grove, unsettling the senses. Some Hindu chefs prepared the hors-d'oeuvres and the culinary specialties in their own special way, using produce, fruit and device from their own climates."

This was to be followed by even more entertainment while exotic delicacies and fresh oysters were brought out by scantily clad slave girls and genies on large platters. I would imagine the spicy odors of curries, lamb kebabs and succulent fruits would have been tempting the tastebuds of all the guests. Poiret resumes his retelling of the evening "and so the buffets were broken open, and the spectacles began. Hidden orchestras were discreetly audible, as if to respect the calm splendor of this night of ecstasy. For the whole night long I very much enjoyed playing on the sensibilities of my guests as I would on a keyboard. Two of my friends constantly came up to me to take instructions, and I pointed out to them the attractions which were likely to have growing appeal. In one corner of the place there was a prophetess, who had diamond encrusted teeth, and a tripe butcher, which the painter Luc-Albert Moreau, honored in a ghastly and bloody manner. There was the potter too, who threw clay bowls with his awkward but skillful fingers. And all of a sudden we met the marmoset merchant, who was covered in animals which climbed onto his shoulders and head, casting evil glances and making shrill cries. "

What curious libations did these honored guests imbibe other than the nine hundred litres of champagne? Only the master of ceremonies, Poiret can tell us that "here we have the obscure bar where solely the liqueurs were illuminated. What alchemist had prepared the dazzling phantasmagoria of this worrying laboratory? A hundred long-necked carafes, a hundred crystal ewers contained all the concoctions, from a range of purple anisettes and garnet-colored bitters with emerald peppermints and golden lemon liqueurs, to creamy advocaats and grenadines of slightly acid crimson. There were also licorice waters, fruit cordials, chartreuse liqueurs, gins, vermouths, orange squashes, kirsches and sloe gins. One entered here and all these painters, who were my guests, played as they would a palette, with these pure tones which they mixed for the sake of it, in the transparency of their flute glass. In this way mysterious, reprehensible drinks were prepared, which were a delight to look at and a surprise to the taste buds."

Guests were given a performance by the Parisian star of the Opéra-Comique, Anna Régina Badet who "danced on a lawn where, so light and ethereal was she, that her steps didn't even trample down the grass. The sight of the spectators gathered around, seated or stretched out on cushions and rugs, was no less beautiful than the dance spectacle itself. It was a confused mass of silks, jewels and feathers, which shimmered like a stained glass window in the moonlight. We saw [the famous Russian ballerina Natalia Vladimirovna] Trouhanowa (aka Natasha Trukhanova), a generous and whimsical houri, dance again [with her veils swirling]. Then along came the exquisite and delicate [Italian dancer Carlotta] Zambelli, shunning the fervor of an agile, passionate mime. Later on, from out of the foliage and at ground level, we see flames and showers of sparks rising noisily up to the finials and opening up like glass flowers."

Poiret gives us even more spectacular scenes including fireworks: "then a large cascade of fire encircled the palace and suddenly the atmosphere reverberated with a harrowing sound. From the terrace which overlooked the garden, the shower of fire gushed forth, striking the steps leading to the entrance. We feared the rugs would catch fire. Sometimes silver and sometimes gold, this exciting storm electrified the crowd and, once it was out, it left phosphorescent insects all around, either hooked up in branches or suspended in the ether. The monkeys and parrots, disturbed in their sleep, called out in alarm. The early morning found them livid and breaking the chains that held them in the branches, with some taking flight, whilst others escaped to the Champs-Elysées in great, long strides via the neighboring rooftops."

The revelry continued into the morning where Poiret recounts that "we saw the painter [and decorator Guy-Pierre] Fauconnet, dressed in a white gown similar to that of a professional tightrope walker or juggler, entertain and amaze the crowd with an orange, which he made disappear and then reappear like the fakirs do."

But who else was at this fantastical event? Poiret gives us an idea that "the audience was made up of artists and discerning amateurs, who came into line and sought to increase the appeal of this imposing occasion through their presence. The wealthiest of them, such as Princess [Lucien] Murat and  [Boniface "Mr. Boni", Marquis de Castellane], have often said that they had never in their life seen anything so moving as the spectacles which filled this miraculous night."

A special parting gift was presented to each woman who attended the party, a bottle of Nuit d'Perse (Persian Night) perfume, created by Maurice Schaller.

This rare perfume may never have actually been presented for sale under that name, but was marketed as Nuit d'Orient and then rechristened Nuit de Chine in 1912.

Nuit de Chine was released to the public in 1913, and became one of the most successful fragrances from Rosine. The label has Chinese characters (meaning "night in the country from China", "flowers").

Fragrance Composition:

So what did it smell like? It is classified as a heavy floral oriental fragrance for women with a dominant spicy peach note layered over a sweetened ambergris chypre base. "A sweet, soft oriental odor". Made use of several chemicals: coumarin which gave the perfume a base redolent of tonka bean and Persicol which gave the top a distinctive peach note. I feel the peach note combined with the chypre base in the perfume was a precursor to Guerlain's Mitsouko of 1919.

• Top notes: plum, bergamot, cinnamon, fruity accord, peach 
• Middle notes: lavender, tuberose, carnation, nutmeg, pink jasmine, clove, labdanum, rose
• Base notes: incense, cedar, orris, civet, tonka, vanilla, Mysore sandalwood, patchouli, musk, ambergris, vetiver

Nuit de Chine was advertised as "the majestic prayer of precious essences rises among golds, lacquers and bronzes."

 

Bottles:

Nuit de Chine was available in parfum, eau de toilette, eau de cologne, talcum, bath powder and soap.

The deluxe parfum was housed inside a replica of a Chinese snuff bottle in clear crystal, fitted with rings or either black or green glass at the shoulders and topped with a matching colored glass stopper. The presentation box was covered in brocaded fabric simulating a Chinoiserie pattern.

The fragrance was available in several sizes:

• The deluxe bottles were in 1 and 1 2/3 oz sizes.
• 1/2 oz
• 3/4 oz

 Notions and Fancy Goods, 1916:

"Paul Poiret, perhaps best known to Americans as the premiere couturier, is also a maker of high grade perfumes, and during the past two years has worked his way up amongst the world's leading perfumers. Some of his productions, which owing to the high cost of their ingredients are somewhat expensive have nevertheless proven a success wherever shown, particularly the perfume known as Nuit de Chine. This is put up in a replica of an antique Chinese bottle with a blue stopper set in a gold neck and two handles of blue, enclosed in a gold lined box of gold and deep blue Chinese brocade. This, however, gives but a faint idea of the attractiveness of this package."

c1921 ad

Motion Picture,

"Poiret himself says: "These parfums, I offer you, ma amis, in confidence that they will fo for your soul what my gowns have done for your bodies. It is true that they are very expensive...but..what would you? Are they not parfums of the rarest excellence? Parfums by which you may at last accurately reflect your character, your personality? As an example, the Nuit de Chine— illustrated— whose oriental odor is unlike anything ever known before. ... And with the little wrappings and flacons which I, Paul Poiret, have designed with the same care as my most ravishing costume?"

Harper's Bazaar, Volume 56, 1921:

" Poiret continues to put out delicious fragrances; one of his latest, “Chez Poiret. Rosine,” is inimitably bottled in a half sphere with an emerald glass stopper.... "Nuit de Chine," luxurious and oriental. "Nuit de Chine” toilet water in a pyramidal, globular-stoppered flask is very alluring, as is Poiret's "Rosine” in its glass hemisphere. "

The Illustrated Milliner - Volume 23, 1922:

"Les Parfumes de Rosine. At the left is La Rose de Rosine, a handsome gold and crystal container. Le Minaret: In a gold brocaded casing and red covered casket. Nuit de Chine in a gold cloth case with  applique of embroidery."

The New Yorker - Volume 8, 1932:

"Rosine: Coup de Foudre joins Nuit de Chine and Maharadjah for tigress women. "

Drug &Cosmetics Industry, Volume 42, 1938:

"ROSINE - The perfume for Marco Polo — Rosine's Nuit de Chine — is presented by Maurice Levy simultaneously with the film "Marco Polo". It is boxed in an oval of black and gold brocade, and the oval shaped flacon is topped by a knob stopper of midnight blue."

Nuit de Chine, SCENTS OF ROSINE. Design. Georges Lepape. , 1913, Paris. Glass, bakelite, paper, cardboard - GS Collection (copyright ADAGP PARIS 2013)

Perfume card for Nuit de Chine.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown.

It was still being sold in 1941.

In the spring of 1912, the magazine Femina recounted that the "Countess Aynard de Chabrillan gave a great oriental feast in costume entitled "The Thousand Second Night" in her splendid mansion, on the rue Christophe Colomb. All the Parisian aristocracy met there and the splendor of the costumes is combined with the magnificence of the decor. This celebration is in line with that given in June 1911 by the couturier Paul Poiret in his castle of Butard which had brought together all of artistic and social Paris." In the photo below we can see some of who attended, (from the top left) Mademoiselle de Levis-Mirepoix, (below) Marquise de St-Seine, (top center) Countess Aynard de Chabrillan, (below) Marquise de Levis-Mirepoix, Countess de Pange, (upper right) Countess Charles Levis-Mirepoix, (below) Countess Guy Levis-Mirepoix and Countess de la Tour de Pin.

Coup de Foudre (1924)

Coup de Foudre by Les Parfums de Rosine was launched in 1924, at the very height of Paul Poiret’s artistic and olfactory experimentation. The name, Coup de Foudre (pronounced “coo deh FOOD-ruh”), translates directly from French as “bolt of lightning” or “thunderbolt.” More evocatively, it is an idiomatic expression for the overwhelming sensation of “love at first sight.” The phrase conjures suddenness, intensity, and emotional upheaval—an electric moment that marks the instant of romantic infatuation. This emotionally charged naming choice aligns with Poiret’s flair for drama and passion, suggesting a perfume designed to seduce the senses with irresistible immediacy.

The year 1924 fell within Les Années Folles—the "crazy years" of post-World War I Paris—when modernism, liberation, and artistic innovation dominated every cultural sphere. In perfumery, this was a period of transformation marked by the emerging use of aldehydes, synthetic molecules that allowed for new olfactory effects previously impossible with natural materials alone. It was in this spirit that Coup de Foudre was created—a pioneering fragrance said to be the first to combine jasmine with aldehydes, long before this pairing would be immortalized by Chanel No. 5. Unlike the powdery aldehydic florals that would come to define the 1920s, Coup de Foudre stood apart with its sharp, electrifying top note and warm, sensual undercurrent.

The aldehyde used—C-12 MNA (2-methyl undecanal)—was employed in low concentration, yet its impact was dramatic. It imparted a unique amalgam of sensations: crisp citrus brightness, the airy glow of white blossoms, a subtle waxiness, and even a trace of metallic coolness. Its fresh yet abstract character set the stage for a heart steeped in voluptuous jasmine, possibly supported by creamy tuberose and coumarinic softness that hinted at warm hay and almond. The base likely included mossy, woody, and animalic notes—echoes of classic chypres—giving the perfume an enduring presence on the skin.

Poiret’s audience—fashion-forward, liberated women—would have found Coup de Foudre entirely in step with the decade’s daring spirit. It was a fragrance designed to announce itself, a bold olfactory expression of instantaneous attraction. The name alone was enough to captivate, but the scent itself promised a sensory jolt—like falling in love in a single breath. Within the landscape of contemporary perfumes, Coup de Foudre was both a trendsetter and an outlier: modern, complex, and infused with the emotional voltage that Poiret brought to all his creations.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Coup de Foudre by Rosine is classified as an aldehydic woody floral chypre fragrance for women. Also said to be the first jasmine and aldehyde perfume ever created. Coup de Foudre was advertised as having a "sharp and prompt note on a very voluptuous background."  

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, aldehyde C-12 MNA, Calabrian bergamot, Sicilian neroli oil, Amalfi lemon oil, Paraguayan petitgrain 
• Middle notes: Alpine lily of the valley, hydroxycitronellol, Portuguese tuberose, Bulgarian rose otto, phenylethyl alcohol, Grasse jasmine absolute, benzyl acetate. Comoros ylang ylang oil, Tunisian orange blossom absolute, Tuscan violet leaf absolute, ionone, methyl ionone, Zanzibar clove bud oil, isoeugenol
• Base notes: Spanish labdanum, Venezuelan tonka bean, coumarin, ambergris, Levantine styrax, Mysore sandalwood, Madagascar vanilla, Siam benzoin, Penang patchouli, Balkans oakmoss, Java vetiver, isobutyl quinoline, Abyssinian civet, Tonkin musk, musk ketone

Scent Profile:

Coup de Foudre by Rosine is an olfactory drama—a perfume that lives up to its name, which in French means both a “bolt of lightning” and the thunderclap of love at first sight. It opens with a flash of brightness, sharp and piercing, before melting into a sumptuous floral heart and then settling into a deeply textured chypre base. From the first impression, this fragrance demands attention, like a sudden, electric spark in the atmosphere.

The top notes erupt with aldehydes C-10 and C-12 MNA—two classic materials of the aldehydic tradition. C-10 (decanal) lends a creamy, citrus-like freshness with a slightly waxy edge, while C-12 MNA (2-methylundecanal) brings a strikingly bright, almost metallic-clean note, often compared to linen drying in the sun. Together, they form a shimmering veil, like a sudden rush of cold air on warm skin. Calabrian bergamot follows with its sun-drenched citrus sparkle—more refined and floral than other varieties—while Sicilian neroli oil adds an airy, luminous greenness touched with bitter orange blossom. Amalfi lemon oil, with its crisp, acidic clarity, amplifies the zestiness without veering sour, and Paraguayan petitgrain, distilled from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, contributes a dry, slightly woody bitterness that anchors the top accord with complexity.

As the aldehydes settle, the floral heart unfolds with a lush, intoxicating sensuality. Alpine lily of the valley brings a clean, green floralcy with dew-fresh clarity—most likely rendered through hydroxycitronellol, which recreates the delicate scent of this elusive bloom. Portuguese tuberose emerges in full, narcotic bloom—heady and waxen—counterbalanced by the freshness of Bulgarian rose otto, prized for its subtlety and vividness. Phenylethyl alcohol brings a dewy, transparent rose effect, softening the richer materials. Grasse jasmine absolute grounds the heart in creamy, indolic depth, while benzyl acetate—naturally found in jasmine—adds a juicy-fruity accent that enhances its natural qualities.

Comoros ylang ylang oil drapes itself in a velvety curve around the other florals, its banana-like sweetness fused with the warmth of Tunisian orange blossom absolute, which adds a rich, honeyed warmth. Tuscan violet leaf absolute lends a cooling, green vegetal texture, setting the stage for a plush, powdery effect from ionone and methyl ionone—aroma chemicals that recreate violet and iris notes. A dash of Zanzibar clove bud oil and its chemical twin, isoeugenol, add subtle spice, like a flash of heat behind a floral curtain.

Then, slowly, the base asserts itself—slow-burning, balsamic, and rich. Spanish labdanum, resinous and ambered, melts into the warmth of Venezuelan tonka bean and coumarin, evoking the nutty-sweet scent of hay and tobacco. True ambergris (or a tincture of it) brings an oceanic softness and fixative depth that cannot be matched synthetically. Levantine styrax and Siam benzoin, both resinous and caramelic, ooze warmth and luxurious softness, while Mysore sandalwood—then still available in perfumery—adds its famously creamy, buttery richness. Madagascan vanilla curls through this blend with subtle gourmand sweetness, smoothing every corner. Penang patchouli contributes its damp, chocolate-earth depth, harmonizing with the dusky vegetal bitterness of Balkans oakmoss. Java vetiver, dry and smoky, pulls the base into a forested shadow.

The structure is reinforced with isobutyl quinoline—an intensely bitter, leathery-green molecule that injects a provocative darkness. Abyssinian civet and Tonkin musk lend animalic undertones—softly feral, slightly powdery—creating a distinctly human warmth that clings to the skin. Synthetic musk ketone rounds out the accord with a plush, long-lasting softness, leaving behind the faint impression of skin warmed by desire.

Altogether, Coup de Foudre is a stunning orchestration of light and shadow: sharp aldehydes and citrus brightness give way to florals that are rich yet not overbearing, all resting on a chypre base that is earthy, animalic, resinous, and smoky. It is an aromatic thunderclap—a true perfume of sensation and seduction.

Bottles:

The bottle created for Coup de Foudre is a sculptural tribute—both to design innovation and to personal friendship. Drawing visual parallels to the 1938 René Lalique bottle designed for Imprudence by Worth, this flacon features a distinct stepped, conical form composed of clear crystal. Each descending tier of concentric rings resembles the soft, rippling folds of a gown in motion, gracefully narrowing toward a collar that cradles the stopper. The form is not merely decorative—it directly references one of Paul Poiret’s own haute couture designs, a skirt from his 1924 collection, capturing his philosophy of fluid silhouette and architectural construction in perfume glass.

The blue glass stopper, shaped like an inverted, rounded dome with a flat top, provides a vibrant contrast to the clear crystal base. Its hue is not arbitrary—it deliberately evokes Lanvin Blue, the custom shade famously created for Jeanne Lanvin by artist and interior designer Paul Iribe. That particular tint of blue, soft and resonant like the sky just after twilight, became Lanvin’s signature and an emblem of refinement and maternal elegance. Covering the presentation box in Lanvin Blue was a poetic gesture—Poiret’s tribute to his dear friend and fellow couturier, a woman who, like him, elevated fashion into an art form and embraced fragrance as a natural extension of dress and identity.

In combining these elements—the homage to Jeanne Lanvin, the reference to Poiret’s own fashion, and the aesthetic lineage drawn from Lalique’s crystal creations—the presentation for Coup de Foudre is as carefully curated as the scent it holds. The bottle doesn't merely contain perfume; it embodies a shared history of couture, creativity, and affection between two of Paris’s most influential fashion houses of the early 20th century.

 

Fate of the Fragrance:

Launched in 1924, Coup de Foudre by Les Parfums de Rosine was one of Paul Poiret’s most daring and evocative fragrance creations—its name translating to “love at first sight” or literally, “a bolt of lightning.” Bold in both composition and concept, it captured the thrill of sudden infatuation and the jolt of passion, embodied in a modern aldehydic floral chypre structure. Like many of Rosine’s perfumes, it reflected Poiret’s fearless aesthetic sensibility and his avant-garde vision for women’s fragrance.

Despite its striking character and refined bottle design, Coup de Foudre shared the fate of the rest of the Rosine line when the company shuttered in 1930. Yet, in the United States, the perfume lingered on shelves for years after. By 1932, American retailers—perhaps unaware of Rosine’s closure or perhaps strategically silent—were still promoting Coup de Foudre as if it were a new arrival. Advertisements praised it with fresh enthusiasm, sidestepping its discontinued status entirely. It was a clever, if slightly opportunistic, effort to offload leftover stock while interest in European perfumes remained high in the States.

This quiet afterlife in American department stores speaks to the enduring appeal of Rosine’s presentation and Poiret’s brand cachet. Even in clearance, Coup de Foudre retained enough allure to be marketed anew. In many ways, it was a fitting end for a perfume that had always played with surprise and intensity—a final flash of lightning before it vanished from the shelves for good.

The New Yorker, 1932:

" Rosine: Coup de Foudre join Nuit de Chine and Maharajah for tigress women."