Keep Perfume in Dark

A March 26, 1928 article in the Reading Eagle newspaper:

"KEEP PERFUME IN DARK, PARISIAN ADVISES. Air and sunlight may change finest odors, according to French expert. Have you ever wondered why the perfume on your dressing table seems to change odor week from week? Perhaps you have been puzzled by a fragrance which smelled agreeable at the time  you bought it, becomes commonplace or even unpleasant after you have used it a few weeks, writes a Paris correspondent of the Kansas City Star. 

Such thoughts may be considered a confession - an admission that you have not learned how to care for your perfume. These delicate scents for which fashion orders for modern  use particularly when they are of high quality, deteriorate and lose all traces of their original fragrance if they are handled remissly. 

"Always keep perfume in a dark place, advises Lucien Lelong, the Paris dressmaker whose study of perfume has resulted in valuable suggestions for its use. "Daylight will affect every odor differently according to its formula, and in extreme cases, the perfume turns bright red as soon as its exposed to the sun. 

Jasmine becomes black in the light, other flower extracts darken less noticeably, but as soon as they change color, even slightly, the perfume changes scent. According to Monsieur Lelong, certain chemicals suffer similarly as a result of exposure to light. If a product such as indol has been used in the perfume, it will form ether and emit a foul odor soon after it is allowed to stand in the sun. 

So carefully must the elements that compose a perfume be guarded that many of the more fragile extracts are bought in a discolored state by the perfumer to prevent darkening after they have been mixed. Discolored floral elements cost a great deal more than flowers in a natural state and they are reserved for expensive perfumes.  

The need is evident for keeping perfume flacons tightly stoppered. Air, sunlight will harm the scent and carelessness in keeping the odor airtight results in a noticeable loss strength and quality."

Impromptu by Lucien Lelong (1936)

Impromptu by Lucien Lelong debuted in 1936—a year of social and artistic contrasts, poised on the edge of dramatic change. The name Impromptu, a French word, translates to “spontaneous” or “unrehearsed,” and is pronounced [ahm-PRAHMP-too]. Its origin lies in Latin via French, and it carries with it an air of unpredictability and elegance—like an unplanned gesture of charm or a sudden inspiration. The word evokes imagery of a fleeting romantic encounter, a sudden dance, a night that unfolds unexpectedly yet beautifully. It suggests freedom from routine, a willingness to be swept away in the moment.

For Lucien Lelong, couturier and tastemaker, choosing the name Impromptu aligned perfectly with the spirit of his fashion house and clientele. The late 1930s were a time of transitional glamour—nestled between the Deco opulence of the 1920s and the austerity soon to be imposed by World War II. 1936, in particular, was still basking in the shimmer of modern elegance. It was the height of the Art Deco era, with clean architectural lines, a fascination with streamlined design, and a cultivated air of luxury. In Paris, the International Exposition of Art and Technology in Modern Life had just taken place the year prior, reinforcing the city’s status as a hub of style and sophistication.

Women's fashion in this period had begun to soften from the bold, angular lines of early Deco. Skirts lengthened, shoulders grew broader, and silhouettes became more fluid and romantic. Eveningwear featured bias-cut gowns, luxurious fabrics like silk and satin, and an emphasis on movement. Women wore perfumes to complete the image of the ideal modern woman—poised, mysterious, and emotionally expressive.

Opening Night by Lucien Lelong (1934)

Launched in 1934, Lucien Lelong’s La Première entered the fragrance world during a moment of cultural elegance and cinematic escape. Originally introduced under this French name—La Première (pronounced lah preh-MYER), meaning "The First" or “The Premiere”—the fragrance was poised to celebrate both the glamour of a grand debut and the sophisticated poise of a woman stepping into the spotlight. However, a complication arose when it was prepared for release in the American market: another perfume company, De Hériot, had already secured the name La Première for a different fragrance in the U.S. As a result, Lelong's perfume was rebranded as Opening Night for American audiences, and Orage (oh-RAHZH, meaning "storm" in French) for distribution in Canada and the U.K.

Each name—La Première, Opening Night, and Orage—carries a distinct emotional and visual character, yet all are deeply theatrical in tone. La Première suggests elegance, precedence, and a moment of poised arrival. It conjures the image of a woman entering a theater or ballroom just as the curtain is about to rise. Opening Night retains that same sense of anticipation and spectacle, echoing the hushed excitement of an audience waiting in the velvet-lined dark. In contrast, Orage, meaning “storm,” shifts the mood. It evokes a sudden intensity—a romantic, emotional tempest—suggesting drama, passion, and power beneath the polished surface.

The year 1934 placed this perfume firmly within the interwar period, a time of both fragility and flowering in the arts, fashion, and perfumery. The world was still recovering from the shock of the Great Depression, and in France especially, luxury had become a form of escapism and expression. Hollywood glamour dominated the visual imagination, and French couture and perfumery responded in kind with elegant silhouettes, luxurious materials, and rich, complex compositions. It was the Golden Age of Perfume, an era when scent was expected to be both statement and signature.

Taglio by Lucien Lelong (1945)

Originally launched in 1928 under the name Parfum N, Lucien Lelong’s fragrance was later rebranded for the American market in 1945 as Taglio—a name both striking and evocative. The choice of the word Taglio, pronounced TAHL-yoh, is deliberate and layered in meaning. It is derived from the Italian word for cut or carving, and is closely linked to the term intaglio, a technique in fine art and jewelry wherein a design is incised into a surface rather than raised in relief. This nuanced connection to craftsmanship and subtlety was echoed in the perfume’s packaging, which embraced the visual motif of carving or engraving, reinforcing a sense of refined artistry.

The name Taglio conjures a spectrum of images and emotions: precision, sophistication, and quiet strength. It suggests the controlled elegance of a sculptor’s hand or the refined gesture of tailoring—a metaphorical “cut” through the excess, leaving only what is essential and beautiful. The emotional resonance is one of understated luxury, a kind of poised confidence. In fragrance form, Taglio becomes a scent that is meticulously structured yet soft around the edges—like an engraved jewel worn close to the skin.

When Parfum N debuted in 1928, it emerged during the last years of the Roaring Twenties, an era defined by modernity, bold fashion, and a fervent embrace of glamour and innovation. Perfume houses were experimenting with aldehydes, musks, and exotic materials, influenced by the growing presence of abstract art and couture fashion. Women, freshly liberated in many Western societies, were seeking expressions of identity beyond the conventional. The original launch positioned Parfum N among the sophisticated, complex scents of the interwar period—when perfumery was becoming a language of modern elegance.

Elle Elle by Lucien Lelong (1948)

Elle, Elle by Lucien Lelong was launched in 1948, in the first few years following the end of World War II—a period marked by rebirth, reinvention, and the return of sensuality to fashion and fragrance. The name Elle, Elle, pronounced like “L. L.” in French (as in “el-el”), was a clever play on Lucien Lelong’s initials. Beyond simply branding, the name also evokes a sense of femininity—elle means “she” in French—suggesting a fragrance designed to represent the ultimate expression of womanhood. Repeating the word (Elle, Elle) gives it a poetic rhythm, almost like a whispered incantation, mysterious and alluring. It conjures an image of an elegant, self-assured woman—sophisticated, enigmatic, and entirely in control of her allure.

The late 1940s was a turning point. After the austerity of wartime, the world—particularly Paris—was ready for luxury again. Christian Dior had just introduced his New Look in 1947, emphasizing femininity with cinched waists, full skirts, and decadent fabrics. Perfume followed suit. Fragrances became more voluptuous, more daring, and often leaned heavily into opulence—florals were deeper, orientals darker and more animalic. Into this atmosphere came Elle, Elle, composed by the master perfumer Jean Carles. It was, fittingly, a rich and animalic oriental with sweet, woody notes and a pronounced mossy base—a perfume that felt like brocade against bare skin.

Tailspin by Lucien Lelong (1940)

Tailspin by Lucien Lelong was launched in 1940—a year marked by global upheaval, uncertainty, and the emotional turbulence of World War II. In France and the United Kingdom, the fragrance was marketed under the more romantic name Passionnément (originally launched in 1939), the French word for “passionately.” Pronounced pah-syon-nay-mahn, the name evokes intense emotion, longing, and perhaps a need for connection in a time of great instability. This French version would have resonated with local audiences yearning for beauty and romance amid wartime anxieties. Yet in the United States, the perfume bore the far more provocative name Tailspin—a term with layered meanings that captured both the spirit of the time and the psychological undertones of the fragrance itself.

The English word “tailspin” refers to a rapid, uncontrolled descent of an aircraft—an apt metaphor for the sense of emotional disarray, panic, or even infatuation. Choosing such a name in 1940, at the dawn of the war’s most volatile period, was strikingly bold. It speaks to a zeitgeist shaped by air raids, aerial combat, and the increasing visibility of aviation in both military and civilian life. More figuratively, “tailspin” suggested falling dizzying headlong—into love, into desire, or into confusion. The emotional instability embedded in the name gave the perfume a dramatic edge, likely appealing to women who felt swept up in the chaos of war or caught between duty and longing.

Created by master perfumer Jean Carles, Tailspin (or Passionnément) was described as a floral oriental with a chypre character, distinguished by sweet, narcotic floral notes layered over spicy and resinous woods. A distinct fern-like facet lent a touch of structure and freshness, while lush jasmine and creamy sandalwood formed the sensual heart. This interplay of clean and heady, medicinal and seductive, was deeply characteristic of Carles' style and added a psychological complexity to the scent. A hint of citrus and fruit introduced brightness, while warm spices and an aromatic, pine-like chypre base grounded the fragrance in a forest-like, slightly nostalgic atmosphere.

The early 1940s marked the tail end of Art Deco opulence and the beginning of wartime utility. Fashion, under rationing, was pared down—structured silhouettes, natural materials, and functional elegance dominated. Perfume, in contrast, offered a realm of escape. It was one of the few luxuries that could be worn close to the skin, a private indulgence in a time of scarcity. A fragrance like Tailspin, with its rich contrasts and evocative name, would have appealed to the complex emotions women were navigating—mourning, romance, resilience, uncertainty.

In the broader context of perfumery, Tailspin was aligned with the growing trend of deeper, more introspective compositions. Chypres and orientals were popular at the time, but Tailspin stood out for its emotional charge and its conceptual daring. It was not merely a floral oriental; it was a fragrance that embodied a state of mind. For women living through 1940, it could have symbolized both a loss of control and a reclamation of personal desire—falling into something overwhelming, dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Tailspin (or Passionnément) by Lucien Lelong is classified as a floral oriental fragrance for women. Sweet, fresh fragrance with chypre background and spicy note. Sandalwood and jasmine. It features a fern-like facet; combined with a marriage of sweet sandalwood and narcotic jasmine, layered over a pungent aromatic resin background suggestive of a medicinal (piney) chypre odor, then punctuated with fruits, fresh citrus and warm spices. '

Passionnément is a woody, forest-like floral fragrance with a citrus opening. It is composed of patchouli, jasmine, carnation, orange blossom, lemon, and bergamot. Romantic in character with a touch of exoticism, it is designed for brunettes and redheads and is ideally suited to elegant evenings, unfolding beautifully in the softly lit atmosphere of refined salons.

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, aldehyde C-14, Calabrian bergamot, Amalfi lemon, Vietnamese lemongrass, Spanish mandarin, citral, citronellol, linalool, linalyl acetate, cyclamen, bitter Provencal herbs, Italian thyme, Hungarian clary sage, fruity notes, green notes,benzyl acetate, benzyl formate, octyl acetate, methyl anthranilate
• Middle notes: Chinese gardenia, Algerian hyacinth, French carnation, eugenol, Szechuan cinnamon, Zanzibar cloves, lily of the valley, hydroxycitronellol, Bulgarian rose, rhodinol, Bourbon geranium, Egyptian jasmine, Tunisian orange blossom, Moroccan narcissus, heliotropin, Comoros ylang ylang, Florentine orris, phenylethyl alcohol, terpineol
• Base notes: Balkans oakmoss, Siberian pine, North American juniper, Ethiopian civet, Persian galbanum, okoume wood, Mysore sandalwood, Virginian tobacco, Atlas cedar, ambergris, Indonesian patchouli, Tonkin musk, resins, English wormwood, Peru balsam, coumarin, Venezuelan tonka bean, Madagascar vanilla, Siam benzoin, Haitian vetiver, Indian musk ambrette, Somali olibanum, Sumatran styrax

Scent Profile:

As I lift the stopper of Tailspin (or Passionnément), the air is immediately awakened by an effervescent burst—bright, sharp, and complex. The top accord shimmers with aldehydes—especially aldehyde C-10 (decanal), which brings a fatty, waxy citrus effect, while aldehyde C-14 (a peach-skin-like synthetic) softens the edges with a velvety, fruity nuance. These aldehydes fizz like sunlight caught on silk, heightening the luminosity of the opening citrus medley.

The citrus top is a world tour of brightness: Calabrian bergamot, prized for its elegant, bitter-green citrus aroma, lends crispness, while Amalfi lemon adds sparkle and freshness with a slightly sweeter tone. Spanish mandarin brings a more floral, nectar-like citrus effect, while the addition of Vietnamese lemongrass, rich in citral, injects a lemony-green sharpness with a grassy, invigorating lift. Citral and citronellol (found naturally in lemongrass and citronella) contribute to this tart, almost astringent freshness. Linalool and linalyl acetate (naturally found in lavender and citrus peels) round out the citrus bouquet with floral, slightly soapy softness, while a breath of cyclamen gives the composition a cool, watery-airy impression, reminiscent of spring petals.

Then come the herbs—bitter Provençal herbs, including Italian thyme and Hungarian clary sage, which introduce a touch of aromatic dryness and complexity. The clary sage smells musky and slightly leathery, counterbalancing the sweet citrus top. The green notes here are damp and sharp, evoking crushed stems and fresh-cut grass. Benzyl acetate and benzyl formate bring a jasmine-like sweetness, while octyl acetate introduces a faintly tropical, banana-like creaminess. Methyl anthranilate, with its grape-like, fruity-animalic character, adds a strange, narcotic twist—suggestive of overripe fruit and lush blossoms past their prime.

As the fragrance warms on the skin, the heart blooms, lavish and floral but with unexpected heat. Chinese gardenia exudes its creamy, mushroomy white floral character, and Algerian hyacinth gives a cool, green, watery floralcy with a slight metallic sharpness. French carnation, rich in eugenol, injects clove-like spiciness, creating a transition from floral delicacy to heady intensity. This heat is expanded with Szechuan cinnamon—less sweet than Ceylon cinnamon, with peppery sparkle—and Zanzibar cloves, resinous, biting, and aromatic.

The white floral theme is continued with lily of the valley, bright and dewy; Tunisian orange blossom, rich and honeyed; Egyptian jasmine, deeply indolic and animalic; and Moroccan narcissus, green, narcotic, and powdery. Hydroxycitronellol enhances the lilting floral freshness of the lily and orange blossom, while rhodinol and Bourbon geranium intensify the rosy, minty brightness in the heart. Bulgarian rose is rich, velvety, and slightly honeyed, while Comoros ylang ylang offers a lush, fruity creaminess, reminiscent of banana and custard. Florentine orris, rare and costly, adds a rooty, powdery-violet nuance that anchors the bouquet with elegance. Heliotropin (piperonal) adds a whisper of soft almond and cherry blossom. Phenylethyl alcohol, a rose alcohol, enhances the radiance of the florals and gives them a sense of lift. Terpineol contributes a clean, almost pine-like floral quality that bridges beautifully into the base.

As the florals begin to fade, the base reveals itself slowly—dark, smoky, and brooding. Balkans oakmoss, earthy and forested, dominates the chypre foundation with a deep, leathery bitterness. It's joined by Siberian pine, brisk and camphoraceous, and North American juniper, sharp and slightly gin-like. A medicinal, resinous thread runs through the base, enhanced by Persian galbanum, green and bracing, and okoume wood, which adds a dry, incense-like warmth. Mysore sandalwood (now protected and exceedingly rare), creamy, sacred, and milky, softens the edges with its unparalleled smoothness. Atlas cedar brings dusty, pencil-shaving dryness, while Virginian tobacco adds a rich, fermented depth—sweet, smoky, and woody.

The animalic thread is complex and sensual: Ethiopian civet, musky and fecal; Tonkin musk, dark and warm; and Indian musk ambrette, the vegetal counterpart with a creamy, powdery elegance. Ambergris, earthy and marine, adds depth and fixative power, while Indonesian patchouli lends a musty, chocolate-tinged earthiness. Peru balsam, sticky and vanilla-like; coumarin, warm and hay-like; and Venezuelan tonka bean, with its almondy, toasted warmth, reinforce the comfort in the drydown. Madagascar vanilla and Siam benzoin bring sweetness and resinous softness, rounding out the base with a gourmand breath. Sumatran styrax adds a balsamic, leathery trail. Somali olibanum (frankincense) introduces a sacred, smoky clarity. Finally, English wormwood—bitter and herbal—creates an edge of cool darkness, like absinthe dancing at the base of the blend.

Altogether, Tailspin is a rich, deeply layered fragrance that oscillates between brilliance and shadow. The effect is intoxicating—a fall into sweet chaos. Like the name suggests, it spins you off your axis, leaving you somewhere between memory and desire, suspended in an air of floral spice, forest resin, and wistful smoke.

Bottles:

Passionnement/Tailspin Fluted Bottle:

• Ref No. 257 - 1/4 oz Parfum - bottle stands 2.75" tall
• 1 oz Parfum - bottle stands 3.5" tall.
• 2 oz Parfum - bottle stands 4" tall.
• 3 oz Parfum - bottle stands 4.5" tall.

Other Bottles:

Ref. 3002 - 7ml Parfum mini 

Cue, 1956:

"For instance, Lucien Lelong found a way to offer fine perfumes at low cost. He simply removed the costly wrappings and presented them in a typical French- without-frills package. Since you can't wear the bottle, reasoned M. Lelong, why pay for it! Lelong’s Passionnement, a newcomer to these shores, was a favorite of Parisiennes for many years though it was originally high priced."

 In 1969/1970, Passionnement was available in parfum form: 0.25 oz and 2 oz bottles. Also available in Eau de Toilette: Splash bottles of 1/16 oz, 1/8 oz, 1/4 liter and 1/2 liter; and Eau de Toilette spray.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Lucien Lelong’s Tailspin, launched in 1940 and known in France under the evocative name Passionnément—a French word meaning "passionately" (pronounced pah-syoh-nay-mahn)—was a fragrance deeply entwined with the mood and aesthetics of its era. At a time when the world teetered on the edge of upheaval, Lelong offered women a scent that was daring, tender, and indulgently emotional. The contrast between the American name "Tailspin" and the French "Passionnément" reveals not just a marketing decision, but a poetic duality: Tailspin suggests losing control, a thrilling descent, even chaos—while Passionnément speaks of surrendering to intense feeling. Both names evoke powerful emotion, and in 1940, women were no strangers to emotional extremes.

The New Yorker described Tailspin as “buoyant,” likening the perfume box to a stack of red, white, and blue poker chips—a patriotic nod to wartime resilience and style, wrapped in playful sophistication. It positioned the scent as modern and lively, a distinctly American interpretation of femininity: stylish, flirtatious, but grounded. In contrast, Le Petit Parisien called Passionnément a “confession,” a barely whispered desire, fragile and dreamy, yet undeniably bold. The very pronunciation of its name was described as a “complicit and silent echo,” suggesting that wearing the perfume was an act of shared intimacy between woman and scent—private, yet powerful.

By 1945, Gargoyle Magazine described Tailspin with cinematic flair: “Dizzying as falling in love,” they wrote, promising a perfume that made the wearer’s heart spin. It was sold in multiple sizes, marketed as both luxurious and attainable. The ad copy emphasized emotional impact: Tailspin was not just a fragrance—it was a state of being, a rush, a romantic dive into the senses.

In Combat (1955), the French perspective had evolved into a technical and sensual appreciation of Passionnément's composition. Built on a heavy chypre base, it featured the earthy sensuality of civet, the warmth of cedar and okoumé, and the creamy depths of Mysore sandalwood. Jasmine lent its narcotic sweetness, and cyclamen and narcissus added powdery, floral radiance. Citrus fruit notes lifted the blend into a bright opening, contrasting the darker, more animalic base. It was described as a perfume of “extreme opulence”—luxuriant enough that, even in eau de cologne form, it could envelope the entire body.

Together, these accounts reveal that Tailspin / Passionnément was far more than a floral oriental—it was a cultural expression. It captured the dizzying blend of passion and instability of wartime femininity: one moment bold and daring, the next wistful and dreaming. This fragrance, created by master perfumer Jean Carles, not only stood out for its innovative blend of resins, spices, citrus, and florals, but for the emotional worlds it conjured: surrender, seduction, and strength in uncertain times.

Launched in 1940, Tailspin by Lucien Lelong—known in France under the name Passionnément—was a floral oriental fragrance that managed to endure for decades, despite having been introduced during one of the most turbulent periods in modern history. Created by master perfumer Jean Carles, Tailspin was a daring and emotional scent, released on the cusp of World War II. While its exact discontinuation date remains uncertain, records show that it was still available for purchase as late as 1979, indicating a remarkably long lifespan for a mid-century fragrance.

The duality in its naming—Tailspin for the American market and Passionnément for the French—speaks to the marketing strategy and cultural tone of each region. “Tailspin” evokes a dramatic, head-over-heels sensation, suggestive of losing control, a metaphorical descent that echoed the emotional volatility of wartime romance and longing. In contrast, “Passionnément,” which translates from French as “passionately,” conveyed a sense of emotional surrender and intimate intensity, resonating with the French flair for poetic sentiment. Both names captured facets of the same experience: a woman falling—into love, desire, or the sheer force of her own feelings.

Tailspin’s longevity on the market may be attributed not only to its striking name and elegant packaging, but also to its distinctive composition. A floral oriental with a fresh, spicy chypre character, it offered a nuanced, layered olfactory experience. It blended sweet jasmine and warm sandalwood with a medicinal, piney resinous base, punctuated by citrus, fruits, and aromatic spices. There was also a fern-like green facet that provided a bracing contrast to the narcotic floral heart. This duality—structured yet emotive, refined yet impulsive—may have made it feel both timeless and modern through the decades.

Its continued availability into the late 1970s suggests that Tailspin retained relevance well into the postwar and modern eras, likely appealing to women who appreciated its depth and romanticism in contrast to the cleaner, more synthetic-leaning fragrances that began to dominate the market in the 1960s and 1970s. The fact that it remained on store shelves nearly forty years after its launch is a testament to its artistry, emotional resonance, and the lasting allure of Lucien Lelong’s vision of perfumed elegance.

Balalaika by Lucien Lelong (1939)

Balalaïka by Lucien Lelong was launched in 1939, on the eve of profound global change. The name itself is captivating—Balalaïka (pronounced bah-lah-LIE-kah) refers to the traditional Russian stringed musical instrument, known for its triangular body and bright, plucked sound. The word comes from Russian, and like the instrument, it evokes the romanticized spirit of Eastern Europe—gypsy melodies, snow-covered landscapes, candlelit salons, and the wistful strains of folk music drifting through birch forests. It is a name that carries rhythm and emotion, nostalgia and gaiety, and like the fragrance it names, it suggests both lightness and complexity.

Lucien Lelong, a couturier known for his elegance and refinement, had a keen instinct for storytelling through fragrance. Choosing the name Balalaïka in 1939 was both timely and strategic. The late 1930s saw a fascination in Parisian high society with Slavic culture, sparked in part by the émigré influence after the Russian Revolution and the romanticization of imperial Russia in art, fashion, and music. The name brought an exotic, romantic flair to the French perfume counter, suggesting escape and charm at a time when the clouds of war were gathering over Europe.

The year 1939 was marked by the final chapter of the interwar period. This era, often referred to as the last flicker of Art Moderne, was one of polished glamour shadowed by growing political unrest. Fashion was changing—waists were returning to a more natural line, skirts had lengthened slightly, and there was an overall softness and femininity to women's silhouettes. Despite the looming conflict, or perhaps because of it, perfumes in this period often emphasized optimism and emotional richness. In perfumery, there was a shift from dense, animalic orientals toward more airy florals, powdery compositions, and radiant chypres—scents that felt elegant, comforting, and quietly hopeful.