Le Chypre du Nil (1924)

Le Chypre du Nil, launched in 1924 by Parfums Ciro, was a fragrance born at the crossroads of historical fascination, modern elegance, and olfactory innovation. Its name—“Le Chypre du Nil”, or “The Chypre of the Nile”, pronounced as "luh SHEEP-ruh dew NEEL"—evokes a dreamy, exotic fusion of Cypriot perfume traditions and the timeless allure of ancient Egypt. At its heart, the name is both geographically poetic and symbolically rich: it ties the structure of the classic chypre perfume family to the sensual mystique of the Nile Valley, conjuring up images of pharaohs, lotus blossoms, desert incense, and gilded antiquity.

The launch of this perfume came during the height of Egyptomania, a cultural obsession that had gripped Europe and America in the wake of sensational archaeological discoveries, most notably the 1922 opening of Tutankhamun’s tomb. This event, and the press frenzy that followed, reawakened Western fantasies about Egypt as a place of mystery, power, and opulence. Designers and artists borrowed Egyptian motifs in fashion, architecture, and jewelry, and perfumers quickly followed suit. For Ciro—a brand celebrated for its chic and cosmopolitan character—the decision to name a perfume Le Chypre du Nil would have aligned perfectly with the prevailing tastes of the sophisticated woman of the 1920s, who wanted both modernity and myth, worldliness and wonder.

The word chypre itself (French for “Cyprus”) refers to a fragrance family with ancient roots, tracing back to the trade routes of the Eastern Mediterranean, where the island of Cyprus supplied storax resins, herbs, and fragrant oils. There’s historical speculation that Egyptians, great perfumers themselves, would have traded with Cypriots, obtaining materials like labdanum, spices and other botanicals that were then integrated into their own sacred and cosmetic blends. In perfumery, chypre came to define a structure built around a contrast between bright citrus top notes (often bergamot) and a deep, mossy, resinous base of oakmoss, labdanum, and patchouli, sometimes adorned with floral or woody notes depending on the perfumer’s intent.

Camelia de Maroc (1936)

Camelia du Maroc by Parfums Ciro, launched in 1936, emerged during a moment of refined glamour and social transformation in the interwar years. The name itself is French—“Camelia du Maroc”—which translates to “Camellia of Morocco.” It is pronounced "kah-MAY-lee-ah doo mah-ROCK". The title fuses the quiet, aristocratic grace of the camellia flower, a bloom prized for its flawless symmetry and association with high fashion, with the exotic, sun-warmed allure of Morocco, a land that, in the Western imagination of the 1930s, symbolized sensual mystery, rich color, and faraway romance. Together, these words conjure a vision both elegant and adventurous—a perfume that bridges the cultivated salons of Paris with the intoxicating warmth of North Africa.

The choice of Camelia was especially intriguing, as the flower itself is odorless. To recreate its imagined fragrance required creative artistry—a blend of florals, aldehydes, and orientals that could suggest purity, luxury, and fantasy all at once. The accompanying advertisement described it as “the delicate scent of camellia blossom and fresh dew-drenched greenery...such heightened odors as the cool evening brings,” evoking an atmosphere of soft elegance and natural freshness. The description also celebrated the camellia’s rising popularity: by the mid-1930s, it had become the “flower of fashion” in Paris. Chic florists filled shop windows with camellias, couturiers adorned gowns with artificial camellia corsages, and society women adopted the flower as a refined emblem of taste. Ciro’s creation seized upon this cultural fascination, translating the visual beauty of the bloom into scent—a modern ode to style and sophistication.

The 1930s, often referred to as the Art Deco era, were marked by an aesthetic that balanced geometric precision with sensual opulence. The world was emerging from the Great Depression, and while economies struggled, fashion and perfume offered an escape into elegance, luxury, and optimism. Paris remained the beating heart of haute couture and fine perfumery. Designers like Chanel, Schiaparelli, and Patou defined new ideals of modern femininity—confident, urbane, and forward-looking. The camellia itself had become an emblem of understated refinement thanks in large part to Coco Chanel, who adopted it as her personal flower. Against this backdrop, Ciro’s Camelia du Maroc aligned perfectly with the fashion of the moment, offering women not merely a scent, but a symbol of cultivated chic with an exotic undertone.

Classified as a floral aldehydic oriental, the perfume would have felt luminous and textured—an interplay of sparkling aldehydes (providing a sense of airy modernity), creamy floral heart notes that evoke the imagined camellia, and a warm oriental base recalling Moroccan evenings touched by amber, benzoin, or soft musk. The aldehydes lent radiance and lift, while the oriental foundation anchored the scent in sensuality. For women of 1936, this combination would have embodied both purity and intrigue—the poise of a Parisian lady and the allure of distant lands.

In the context of contemporary fragrances, Camelia du Maroc reflected the trends of its time yet distinguished itself through its concept. Aldehydic florals had come to prominence following Chanel No. 5 (1921) and other luminous creations of the late 1920s, but few had sought to capture an imaginary floral scent, especially one rooted in a fashionable but scentless flower. By pairing that refined theme with an oriental base and Moroccan imagery, Ciro created a hybrid of fantasy and fashion—a perfume both timely and timeless. For the elegant woman of the 1930s, Camelia du Maroc would have represented an olfactory reflection of her world: modern yet romantic, cosmopolitan yet deeply personal—a fragrant bridge between Parisian sophistication and the exotic imagination that so enchanted the era.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Camelia de Maroc is classified as a floral oriental fragrance for women.

• Top notes: bergamot, aldehyde C-6, aldehyde C-9, aldehyde C-10, cis-3-Hexenol, galbanum resin, linalool, linalyl acetate, hydroxycitronellal, isoamyl salicylate 
• Middle notes: jasmine absolute, rose absolute, lily of the valley, phenyl ethyl alcohol, Manila ylang ylang, benzyl acetate, benzyl salicylate, heliotropin, violet, methyl ionone, violet leaf absolute 
• Base notes: Florentine orris, Mysore sandalwood, Siam benzoin, vanilla tincture, vanillin, musk, vetiver, oakmoss

Scent Profile:

Camelia de Maroc by Parfums Ciro unfolds like a dream of an impossible flower—an odourless bloom imagined into being through art and chemistry. This floral oriental fragrance brings to life the delicate, dewy aura of a camellia blossom, glistening with morning moisture, resting amidst glossy leaves and soft moss. Each material, whether plucked from nature or born in the perfumer’s lab, serves to recreate the flower’s purity and texture, from its imagined freshness to its creamy, velvety heart.

The perfume opens with the bright, sunlit lift of Calabrian bergamot, its citrus sparkle carrying a nuance of floral sweetness that instantly lightens the senses. This bergamot, grown on the coast of southern Italy, is prized for its clarity—less sharp than lemon, less sweet than orange, it offers a refined brightness like light passing through crystal. Threaded through this opening are the aldehydes—C-6, C-9, and C-10—materials that defined modern perfumery of the 1930s. Aldehyde C-6 (hexanal) gives a crisp green snap of cut grass; C-9 (nonanal) contributes a waxy citrus-like roundness; and C-10 (decanal) introduces an airy, soapy radiance. Together, they shimmer like dew on petals, imparting that polished, “clean air” quality that was so prized in luxury florals of the decade.

The greenery deepens with cis-3-hexenol, known as “leaf alcohol,” a natural compound found in freshly crushed leaves. It brings the illusion of sap and moisture, like a handful of green stems just snapped in the cool of dawn. Galbanum resin, bitter and resinous, anchors this greenness with a sophisticated edge—less meadow, more manicured garden. Balancing this verdant opening are linalool and linalyl acetate, both found naturally in bergamot and lavender. Linalool offers a soft, woody floral tone, while linalyl acetate smooths it into a silky transparency. These molecules knit the composition together, ensuring the aldehydic brightness doesn’t veer too sharp. Then comes hydroxycitronellal, the heart of the imagined lily of the valley—fresh, watery, green-floral, evoking the scent of rain clinging to white petals. Finally, isoamyl salicylate lends a warm, balsamic undertone—a soft whisper of tropical sweetness that anticipates the creamy heart to come. It subtly hints at sunlight filtering through green leaves, tempering the cool dewiness of the opening with a touch of warmth.

At the heart, Camelia de Maroc reveals the full fantasy of its namesake flower—lush, velvety, and freshly opened. Jasmine absolute, likely from Grasse or Egypt, radiates its narcotic, honeyed warmth, while rose absolute, from Bulgaria or Turkey, adds petal softness and depth. These timeless florals form the foundation of the camellia illusion—rich yet restrained, feminine yet composed. Lily of the valley—a flower whose scent cannot be extracted—appears here as a delicate accord built from hydroxycitronellal, phenylethyl alcohol, and heliotropin. Phenylethyl alcohol, naturally occurring in rose oil, adds a gentle, watery sweetness, while heliotropin (piperonal) brings an almond-like, powdery tone that softens the florals, suggesting the satiny texture of camellia petals.

From the tropics, Manila ylang-ylang oil infuses the heart with golden richness. The Manila variety was prized for its warmth and fullness, possessing a creamy-spicy nuance that makes the bouquet more sensual and enveloping. Benzyl acetate and benzyl salicylate, key natural-synthetic hybrids, serve as bridges—benzyl acetate lends a light jasmine-fruity sparkle, while benzyl salicylate adds creamy, sunlit warmth and fixes the more volatile top notes. The violet and violet leaf absolutes contribute two facets: the flower brings powdery sweetness and nostalgia, while the leaf adds green, aqueous freshness—together, they evoke the tender duality of a camellia’s bloom and its glossy leaves. Methyl ionone, a violet-derived molecule, imparts a soft, woody, powdery depth—an elegant roundness that smooths the entire floral heart like silk over porcelain. This central accord is where chemistry and artistry merge: the synthetics amplify the realism of the natural materials, giving them structure and luminosity. The result is a flower that feels alive—a blend of dew, petal, and air. 

As the scent settles, it unveils the warmth and sensuality of its oriental base. Florentine orris, one of perfumery’s costliest materials, adds a buttery, powdery richness reminiscent of violet and suede. Its cool elegance grounds the floral heart with quiet luxury.

Mysore sandalwood, from southern India, lends its incomparable creamy-woody smoothness—a hallmark of fine perfumery in the early 20th century. The Mysore variety, with its warm, milky depth and soft balsamic tone, weaves through the florals, transforming them into something skin-like and intimate. The balsamic sweetness of Siam benzoin gives the base a resinous glow, while vanilla tincture and vanillin together create a balance of natural warmth and crystalline sweetness—the tincture being soft and animalic, the synthetic vanillin more pure and powdery. This pairing gives the composition both depth and lift, the way candlelight glows through fine silk. Musk adds a subtle sensual veil, blending human warmth into the floral bouquet, while vetiver lends a whisper of dry grass and roots, evoking the earth beneath the blooming camellia. Finally, oakmoss closes the perfume with a deep, velvety green—cool, damp, and faintly forested—completing the illusion of a garden at dusk.

To smell Camelia de Maroc is to step into a garden after rain, where camellias glisten under a Moroccan sunset that never truly existed. It is a fantasy built from fragments of reality—each natural essence lifted, refined, and illuminated by early modern synthetics. The aldehydes sparkle like dew; the ylang and jasmine lend warmth; the orris and benzoin cradle the scent in a soft, lingering glow. It is a fragrance that bridges nature and imagination, femininity and modernity, a 1930s interpretation of the unattainable—an odourless flower given a soul through the artistry of perfumery.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still being sold in 1943.

2025 Reformulation & Relaunch:

In 2025, the resurrected Parfums Ciro reformulated and relaunched Camelia du Maroc in a new bottle. It is classified as a floral fragrance for women and men.  

• Top notes: peony, green tea, grapefruit and mandarin orange
• Middle notes: camellia, rose petals and jasmine sambac
• Base notes: gardenia, ambroxan and musk

Scent Profile:

The 2025 reformulation of Camelia du Maroc opens with a soft yet wonderfully vivid brightness, and the first breath immediately reveals how this modern version leans into a serene, gender-inclusive freshness. The top notes unfold like the first moments of morning light over a still garden. Peony leads with a cool, sheer pinkness—its scent evoking crisp petals brushed with dew, a floralcy that is airy rather than sweet. Natural peony has no extractable oil, but the perfumer recreates its character through a swirl of rosy, aqueous molecules that mimic its delicate translucence. This imagined peony brings a fluttering radiance, the kind of gentle bloom that diffuses rather than projects.

Beside it, green tea introduces a quiet, contemplative greenness. Green tea absolute from Japan is prized for being both clean and slightly earthy, with a bitter-sweet sharpness that lifts floral notes without overpowering them. Its grassy-leafy molecules—especially ionones and subtle phenolic tones—give the composition a meditative calm. This translucent greenness acts as the fragrance’s pulse, a reminder that the camellia itself belongs to a family of tea plants.

The citrus duet of grapefruit and mandarin orange brings an invigorating sparkle. Grapefruit adds a pale, refreshing bitterness, rich in nootkatone, a molecule that lends its cool, mineral brightness. Mandarin contributes a rounder, juicier sweetness—particularly the Italian variety, known for its sunny softness and hints of floral facets. Together they create a luminous, skin-bright opening that feels modern, genderless, and effortlessly uplifting.

As the scent settles into its heart, camellia emerges—not a literal extraction, for the flower remains odourless, but a delicate reconstruction. Here it feels like satin petals: creamy, faintly green, almost cool to the touch. The perfumer shapes this fantasy with a blend of subtle white florals, soft musks, and gentle green molecules that suggest the freshness of living petals rather than full-blown perfume. Camellia is framed by rose petals, intentionally kept light rather than dense. Turkish rose absolute would bring a fruity depth, but for this modern version the effect is sheer, almost brushed onto the composition, lending a soft blush of natural floralcy through the rosy molecules—citronellol, geraniol, and phenylethyl alcohol—that mimic the scent of an open garden.

Jasmine sambac from India deepens the heart with its creamy, almost green brightness. Unlike the heady French jasmine, sambac leans toward a more transparent, fruity character. Its natural indoles—present in small, polished amounts—give warmth and dimension to the camellia accord without introducing vintage heaviness. The sambac’s hints of ripe apricot and soft greenery help bridge the imagined camellia with the fresh, tea-like top notes, creating a seamless bloom that feels alive.

In the base, the fragrance turns smooth, slightly warm, and quietly sensual. Gardenia, another flower with limited extract, appears here as an olfactive portrait rather than a true absolute. Its creamy, lactonic quality comes from carefully chosen synthetics—methyl benzoate, benzyl acetate, and lactones—that replicate gardenia’s signature richness: a blend of velvety white petals, buttery greens, and a faint coconut-milk whisper. This gardenia accord adds body to the delicate camellia heart, as if the fragile bloom has been gently deepened and illuminated from within.

Ambroxan anchors the composition with its radiant, diffusive warmth. Derived from clary sage, it is a modern stand-in for natural ambergris—clean, mineral, and almost skin-like. Ambroxan envelops the floral heart in a soft halo, extending its longevity and giving the fragrance a glowing, contemporary sensuality that reads as gender-neutral. It enhances the tea-like greenness and creamy florals simultaneously, giving the entire composition a smooth, polished signature.

Finally, musk settles onto the skin like a whisper of clean warmth. Modern white musks—silky, cotton-soft, and subtly radiant—provide the fragrance with its final texture: airy, comforting, and serene. They bind the gardenia and camellia accords, lending both lift and staying power without obscuring their delicate translucence.

Overall, the 2025 Camelia du Maroc smells like a portrait of the camellia imagined for the present day: gentle, luminous, and quietly elegant. It balances dew-fresh florals, refined greens, and soft modern woods into a fragrance that feels both comforting and sophisticated—an airy, petal-leaf harmony wearable by anyone who appreciates understated beauty touched with contemporary polish.

Violette d'Alger (1936)

Launched in 1936, Violette d’Alger by Parfums Ciro carried a name that was at once exotic and evocative. Translated from French, Violette d’Alger means “Violet of Algiers” (pronounced as "vee-oh-LET dahl-ZHAY"). The name conjures images of delicate violet blooms growing under the bright North African sun, evoking a sense of romance, elegance, and distant lands. There is a wistful, almost cinematic quality to the name: it suggests springtime, dewy flowers, and a quiet refinement, transporting the wearer to a garden bathed in gentle light and fragrant with violet petals. For women of the 1930s, this name implied sophistication, worldly taste, and an appreciation for refined, luxurious pleasures.

The period in which Violette d’Alger was introduced was a fascinating era in perfumery and fashion. The mid-1930s, situated between the aftermath of the Great Depression and the approach of World War II, saw a desire for escapism, elegance, and glamour. Fashion was defined by sleek, elongated silhouettes, luxurious fabrics, and an air of understated opulence, and perfumery mirrored this trend. Women sought fragrances that expressed individuality and refinement while remaining accessible and wearable. In this context, a perfume named Violette d’Alger promised sophistication, floral freshness, and a subtle exoticism—qualities that aligned with contemporary desires for elegance tempered with imagination.

Classified as a floral aldehyde oriental for women, Violette d’Alger was described as “sophisticated, rich in zest, and the odor of spring violets, wistful and dewy.” Violet had long been a beloved fragrance note, popular throughout the 19th century and well into the early 20th. Most perfumeries offered their own interpretations, following established structures, with slight modifications to personalize the scent. Violette d’Alger stood out not because violet was unusual—it was a classic—but because Parfums Ciro combined it with aldehydes and subtle oriental elements, reflecting the modernizing trends of the 1930s. Early violet perfumes relied heavily on natural extracts, tinctures, and infusions, but by this time, synthetics and aroma chemicals were increasingly incorporated. These modern ingredients enhanced the vibrancy and longevity of the natural violet accord, allowing perfumers to produce a more consistent and luminous fragrance that maintained the delicate sweetness and powdery nuances while introducing sparkling, airy aldehydic highlights.

In comparison to other perfumes on the market, Violette d’Alger was both part of a continuing violet tradition and a subtle innovation. It respected the familiar structure of violet perfumes but imbued it with a contemporary sophistication and a hint of exotic allure, suggested by its Algerian reference. For the fashionable woman of the 1930s, the perfume represented a union of tradition and modernity: a familiar floral beloved by generations, yet refreshed with the daring and refinement that defined the period. It captured the era’s fascination with elegance, cosmopolitan sophistication, and the imaginative journeys that fragrances could offer, making it a memorable and evocative choice for women of its time.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Violette d'Alger is classified as a floral aldehyde oriental fragrance for women. It was described as "Sophisticated, rich in zest, and the odor of spring violets, wistful and dewy."

• Top notes: aldehyde C-12, bergamot, petitgrain, neroli, cassie, almond, violet leaf, Manila ylang ylang oil
• Middle notes: heliotropin, violet, ionone alpha, orris oil concrete, jasmine absolute, Bulgarian rose otto
• Base notes: clove oil, isosafrol, sandalwood, cedar, benzoin, musk, civet

Scent Profile:

Violette d’Alger opens with a sparkling, luminous bouquet, immediately announcing itself with aldehyde C-12, a synthetic molecule known for its effervescent, slightly fatty, waxy-luminous quality. On first breath, it imparts a sense of airy brightness, lifting the entire composition and giving the floral notes a radiant, almost dewy clarity. Layered atop this effervescence is Calabrian bergamot, its essential oils bursting with a sun-drenched citrus vibrancy unique to southern Italy, where the volcanic soil imparts slightly sweeter, more nuanced fruitiness. 

The top also carries petitgrain, derived from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, its green, slightly woody facets adding freshness and complexity. Neroli brings delicate floral citrus, its aroma rich in linalool and linalyl acetate, giving a sparkling, honeyed softness that contrasts beautifully with the more structured green notes. Cassie adds a subtle powdery sweetness reminiscent of mimosa, while almond contributes a warm, nutty nuance, rounded and comforting. 

The freshness of violet leaf, with its crisp, green, slightly watery aroma from ionones, balances the florals, and Manila ylang ylang oil, rich in linalool and benzenoids, adds a creamy, exotic sweetness, floral yet slightly fruity. Together, these top notes create an opening that is simultaneously bright, sophisticated, and evocative of springtime blooms kissed by sunlight.

The heart of Violette d’Alger unfolds into a luxurious floral bouquet, soft yet opulent. Heliotropin, a synthetic note that evokes the creamy sweetness of cherry blossom and vanilla-like nuances, harmonizes the florals while enhancing longevity. Violet brings its classic powdery, slightly green aroma, created by natural ionones, giving an unmistakable, wistful sweetness. Ionone alpha amplifies this powdery facet, heightening the violet’s elegance while introducing subtle woody undertones. 

Orris oil concrete, extracted from Tuscan iris roots, lends a refined, powdery, almost ethereal quality, its irones adding depth and complexity. Jasmine absolute offers rich, narcotic floral opulence, its benzyl acetate and indoles giving creamy, radiant sweetness that bridges the powdery florals with the spicier, warmer base. Finally, Bulgarian rose otto, revered for its exceptional richness and freshness, lends a rosy, slightly green lift, its citronellol and geraniol compounds contributing a living, breathing quality to the heart. The interplay of natural florals with synthetics like heliotropin ensures brightness, clarity, and harmony, preventing the bouquet from becoming overly heavy while retaining elegance.

The base is where Violette d’Alger deepens into warmth, sensuality, and understated exoticism. Clove oil from Madagascar, rich in eugenol, provides a spicy, aromatic lift with a soft sweetness, while isosafrol, a synthetic, intensifies its warmth and longevity without the harsher bite of raw clove. Sandalwood, sourced from India, brings creamy, balsamic richness, its santalol molecules offering a lingering, smooth warmth that anchors the perfume. 

Cedar, with its resinous, woody character, adds structure and dryness, complementing the warmth of sandalwood. Benzoin, a resin from Southeast Asia, introduces sweet, balsamic richness, softening the woodiness while enhancing depth. Musk imparts a delicate, velvety animalic undertone, and civet—used in trace, synthetic form—adds subtle sensuality and a naturalistic, lingering warmth. The result is a base that is creamy, spicy, and sophisticated, supporting the luminous floral heart while leaving a soft, seductive trail.

In totality, Violette d’Alger is a floral aldehyde oriental that balances sparkle and sophistication with warmth and sensuality. From the radiant, green-citrus-floral top, through the powdery, elegant heart, to the creamy, warm base, it evokes spring violets kissed by sunlight, touched with spice, and anchored in deep, lasting refinement. The thoughtful use of synthetics alongside high-quality natural extracts allows each note to shine, enhancing clarity, longevity, and complexity—capturing the elegance and modernity that defined Parfums Ciro in the 1930s.

 

The Winnipeg Tribune, 1938:

"CIRO'S FRENCH EAU DE COLOGNE. Including Doux Jasmin, Gardenia Sauvage, Reflections, Surrender, Camellia de Maroc, Violette D'Alger. Regular $1.50"

Paris Shopping Directory, 1945;

"Les Parfums de CIRO 4, PLACE VENDOME — TEL. OPERA 90-99 Parfums : Danger, Surrender, Réflexions, Chevalier de la Nuit, Doux Jasmin, Gardénia Sauvage, Rouge Po-Go, Caméllia du Maroc, Violette d'Alger."

Bottles:

Fate of the Fragrance:

The precise date of discontinuation for Violette d’Alger remains unknown, though evidence suggests it remained available to consumers at least until 1956. During this period, the perfume continued to embody the refined elegance and sophisticated floral charm that had defined it since its launch in 1936. Its presence on the market through the mid-1950s attests to its enduring appeal among women who appreciated its wistful, powdery violet character and modernized aldehydic-floral composition.

Parfums Ciro, the company behind this and other distinguished fragrances, ultimately ceased perfume production in 1961. The closure marked the end of an era for a house that had skillfully blended tradition and innovation, leaving behind a legacy of iconic perfumes, including Violette d’Alger, that continued to influence perfumery and inspire collectors and enthusiasts alike.

Maskee (1923)

When Parfums Ciro launched Maskée in 1923, the world was in the midst of a cultural and aesthetic transformation. The name itself—Maskée (pronounced mah-skay)—is French, meaning “masked” or “veiled.” The term evokes mystery, allure, and playful secrecy, conjuring images of glittering masquerade balls where faces were hidden behind ornate masks, and identities blurred in an atmosphere of enchantment and desire. The idea of the “masked woman” was a powerful symbol in art, literature, and theater of the 1920s—suggesting sophistication, intrigue, and a sense of freedom to transgress social boundaries while remaining safely disguised.

The early 1920s, known as Les Années Folles in France and the Jazz Age in America, were a period of exuberant modernity following the devastation of the First World War. Society longed for beauty, pleasure, and escape. Women’s fashions reflected this liberation: hemlines rose, corsets disappeared, and fluid silhouettes allowed movement and expression. The bob haircut, bold lipstick, and lavish evening wear expressed a new, confident femininity. Perfume, too, became a declaration of self-expression—an invisible accessory as vital as a beaded gown or a string of pearls.

It is within this spirit of modern opulence and Orientalist fantasy that Maskée found its voice. Advertisements described it as “a full joy, like a crystal goblet to which not a single flower petal could be added without causing it to overflow... an ineffable impression born from Parfum Maskée, through which seem to pass all the mirages of the Orient.” Such poetic language reflects the fascination of the time with the East—imagined as exotic, sensual, and dreamlike. The perfume’s composition, a floral oriental (amber floral), embodied these associations perfectly. The blend of opulent florals like rose, jasmine, and heliotrope, layered with musky, honeyed undertones, evoked warmth and mystery—a scent as intoxicating and enigmatic as the masked woman herself.

The perfume was created by Henriette Gabilla of Les Parfums de Gabilla in Paris, a respected perfumer known for her sophisticated blends. When Ciro was founded in 1921 in New York, the company sourced its fragrances from Gabilla, already bottled and ready for the American market. Alongside Maskée, the early releases included Doux Jasmin and Chevalier de la Nuit—all launched in 1923.
In comparison to other perfumes of the era, Maskée aligned with prevailing trends rather than defying them. The early 1920s saw a surge in Oriental-style perfumes, beginning with Shalimar (1925) and Habanita (1921). These fragrances captured the zeitgeist—an appetite for richness, sensuality, and escape. Yet Maskée stood out for its poetic concept: “the perfume of the carnival, a gay, reckless odeur.” It was not only exotic but playful—a scent that invited women to explore their masked selves, to embrace joy and abandon with sophistication.

To the women of 1923, Maskée would have symbolized freedom, fantasy, and the thrill of transformation. In scent, it translated as something lush and luminous yet shadowed—floral brightness veiled in warmth, like a smile glimpsed through silk. It was the fragrance of a new era of women—modern, daring, and delightfully mysterious.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Maskée is classified as a floral oriental (amber floral) fragrance for women. The newspaper ads described it as "perfume of the carnival, a gay, reckless odeur".

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, aldehyde C-12, bergamot, neroli, petitgrain,  lemon oil, orange blossom, methyl anthranilate 
• Middle notes: linalool, linalyl acetate, Bulgarian rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, orris, ionone, heliotrope, eugenol, isoeugenol,    
• Base notes: honey, musk, musk ketone, musk ambrette, civet, castoreum, cedar, tonka bean, coumarin, vanilla, Siam benzoin, labdanum, opoponax, Tolu balsam, Peru balsam, patchouli

Scent Profile:

The first impression of Maskée is one of effervescent radiance—like silk slipping over bare skin, luminous and teasing. The top notes shimmer with aldehydes C-10 and C-12, those silvery molecules that lend perfumes their celestial brightness. They sparkle like champagne bubbles, infusing the air with a clean, fizzy sheen that magnifies every natural scent to follow. Beneath this shimmering light lies Italian bergamot, sun-ripened on Calabrian hillsides, offering a complex interplay of green citrus peel, faint floral sweetness, and the elegant bitterness of its zest. 

Lemon oil adds a sharper sparkle—its aldehydes and limonene molecules cutting through the sweetness like sunlight on crystal. Then comes neroli, distilled from Tunisian orange blossoms, honeyed yet green, its linalool content radiating a luminous floral freshness that seems to glow from within. Petitgrain, extracted from the leaves and twigs of the same bitter orange tree, introduces a gentle herbaceous edge, the bridge between leaf and blossom. And weaving through it all is methyl anthranilate, that distinctive natural compound responsible for the grape-like, sweet and velvety undertone of orange blossom. Its fruity softness foreshadows the sensuous depth that awaits below.

As the aldehydic brightness begins to soften, Maskée unfurls its romantic heart—a bouquet that feels both Parisian and dreamlike. Bulgarian rose takes center stage, its petals lush and velvety, rich in phenylethyl alcohol and citronellol, which lend the flower its dewy, romantic warmth. It intertwines with jasmine, whose indole-laden breath brings the pulse of skin and night air—animalic, creamy, and hypnotic. Ylang-ylang, most prized from the islands of the Philippines and the Comoros, contributes its narcotic sweetness, built on benzyl acetate and p-cresyl methyl ether, materials that give it that narcissus-banana nuance that feels almost tangible. 

Orris, derived from aged rhizomes of Florentine iris, diffuses a velvety powder—violet, suede, and cosmetic all at once—owing to its rich irone content, which binds beautifully with ionones to amplify that nostalgic violet-powder accord beloved in early twentieth-century perfumery. Heliotrope soon drifts in like soft dusted sugar, its heliotropin molecule imparting the scent of almond meringue and baby powder. Beneath the sweetness flickers the warmth of eugenol and isoeugenol, clove-like spices found in carnation and ylang-ylang, adding body and a faint piquant thrill that recalls face powder laced with danger. Supporting them are linalool and linalyl acetate, naturally present in the citrus and floral notes above—materials that smooth the transitions between each element, rounding every petal and whisper into a harmonious whole.

Gradually, the heart descends into a voluptuous, enveloping base—rich, resinous, and animalic, like velvet brushed against bare shoulders. Honey glows golden, complex and multifaceted: beeswax facets lend waxy warmth while phenylacetic notes echo the floral top. It melts into a tapestry of musk, blending natural sensuality with early twentieth-century innovation. Natural musk, in tinctured form, provided a deep, warm, almost salty sweetness, while musk ketone and musk ambrette, two synthetics of the era, extended its diffusion and lent a powdery softness that made the scent linger for hours. Threads of civet and castoreum introduce a whisper of shadow—a reminder of human warmth, skin, and intimacy.

Supporting these animalic notes, the base of Maskée is richly ambered. Tonka bean, laden with coumarin, contributes a hay-almond sweetness that ties seamlessly into vanilla and the balsamic warmth of Siam benzoin, Tolu balsam, Peru balsam, and opoponax (sweet myrrh). These resins, drawn from trees native to Southeast Asia and South America, shimmer with notes of caramel, cinnamon, and faint smoke; their vanillin and cinnamic acid derivatives give the perfume its languid, enveloping body. Labdanum, resin of the Cistus shrub from the Mediterranean, anchors everything with a leathery, sun-baked warmth—the very soul of the oriental style. Finally, patchouli and cedar bring balance: the former earthy, cool, and faintly camphorous, grounding the sweetness with its sesquiterpene richness; the latter dry and linear, like the polished wood of an antique dressing table.

Together, these layers form a perfume that feels alive—at once radiant and veiled. Maskée opens like laughter in candlelight and settles into a silken whisper on skin, a scent that hides as much as it reveals. The interplay of aldehydic brilliance, creamy florals, and honeyed amber is theatrical yet intimate, embodying the 1920s fascination with mystery, sensuality, and transformation. It is, quite literally, a perfume behind a mask: dazzling, playful, and just a little dangerous.

Bottles:

The Parfum Maskée (Maskee) was presented in a truly whimsical and theatrical bottle that perfectly captured the playful, carnival-inspired character of the fragrance. The clear glass body was shaped like a clown, its form both sculptural and charmingly detailed. Around the neck, a ruff collar was represented with delicate paper labels, while three paper “buttons” ran down the front of the clown’s suit, lending a visual narrative to the perfume even before it was opened. Topping the bottle was a milk glass stopper, ball-shaped and crowned with a pointed hat, elegantly enameled in black—a small yet striking detail that mirrored the mask-like intrigue of the scent itself.

The bottle was available in two sizes: the smaller 5-inch version and the more imposing 8-inch size, both commanding attention on a dressing table. For added luxury and protection, the bottles were presented in a black satin box decorated with a stenciled clown in white, reinforcing the perfume’s playful, carnival-themed identity and making the package a visual delight as well as a functional container.

In terms of pricing, advertisements from 1924 show that the 2-ounce bottle retailed for $5, while the 1-ounce version sold for $2.50. Though these numbers seem modest by today’s standards, adjusting for inflation to 2025 values places them at approximately $93.87 and $46.94, respectively. This positions Maskée as an accessible luxury of its time—high enough in quality to signify refinement and sophistication, yet playful and affordable enough to reach a wide audience of women eager to embrace the new, joyous spirit of the 1920s.

The combination of clever design, whimsical imagery, and accessible luxury made Maskée’s presentation as memorable as its scent: a perfume that invited its wearer to step into a world of elegance, delight, and theatrical charm.

Hearst's, 1928;

"All the Ciro Perfumes — including Doux Jasmin, Bouquet Antique, and Parfum Maskee — are made, packaged, and sealed in France."

Fate of the Fragrance:

Parfum Maskée eventually vanished from the marketplace, though the exact date of its discontinuation remains unknown. Historical records indicate that it was still available at least through 1942, suggesting a commercial life spanning nearly two decades since its launch in 1923. Its persistence through the challenging years of the late 1930s and early 1940s—including the Great Depression and the early years of World War II—speaks to the perfume’s enduring appeal and the loyalty of its clientele.

By the time it disappeared, Maskée had established itself as a quintessential 1920s floral oriental, remembered not only for its luxurious, honeyed-amber composition but also for its playful, theatrical presentation in the clown-shaped bottle. Though the fragrance eventually ceased production, its legacy lives on in historical accounts, advertisements, and collectors’ memories, marking it as a signature creation of Parfums Ciro and an emblem of early twentieth-century elegance and whimsy in perfumery.

2018 Reformulation & Reissue:

In 2018, Parfums Ciro experienced a renaissance, reviving its historic fragrance line and introducing contemporary reinterpretations of its classic perfumes. Among these is the recreation of Maskee, expertly reimagined by Alexander Streeck. The revived scent remains faithful to the spirit of the original while imbuing it with a modern elegance and richness. According to the company’s description, Maskee embodies “the play of the masks,” evoking the glittering celebration and exuberance of a masked ball, where costumes are colorful and eccentric, faces are hidden yet alluring, and curiosity dances in the air. This theatrical concept mirrors the perfume’s olfactory character: layered, playful, and deeply seductive.

The fragrance opens with the exotic nectar sweetness of ylang-ylang blossoms, radiating a tropical floral richness with both creamy and slightly spicy facets. This flows seamlessly into the heart, where precious damask roses—intensely scarlet and velvety—intertwine with powdery irises and beguiling jasmine, creating a luminous, multi-dimensional bouquet. Heliotrope contributes its marzipan-like warmth, adding a tender, almost edible sweetness that complements the creaminess of the florals. These elements are beautifully anchored by bourbon vanilla and tonka bean, which infuse moments of soft, gourmand warmth, reminiscent of delicate pastries and honeyed indulgence.

The base is built upon soft musk and clean cedar, lending subtle sensuality and a whisper of structural elegance. Honey threads through the composition, lightly gilding the florals and balsams, enhancing their opulence while maintaining the fragrance’s airy, playful charm. Overall, the 2018 version of Maskee captures the essence of versatility and seduction, echoing the masked intrigue of its namesake: a perfume that is simultaneously coquettish, opulent, and mysteriously inviting, allowing the wearer to experience a modern interpretation of a timeless 1920s classic.

From the website: "The play of the masks ... a glittering celebration, joie de vivre and exuberance characterize the atmosphere, which is characterized by the colourfulness and eccentricity of the costumes. The roving gaze captures faces, faces alien and familiar alike, thanks to the magic of their disguise. He indulges in the splendor of the hidden, the pleasure finds in the dance around the question of identities, leaving unfulfilled curiosity behind ... MASKÉE is a seductress whose sensuality derives from her versatility: Exotic nectar sweetness of ylang blossoms meets precious, scarlet-velvety damask roses, powdery-majestic irises on beguiling jasmine of appealing creaminess. Heliotrope conjures echoes of marzipan, while delicious bourbon vanilla in combination with tonka bean provides vanilla-sweet moments. The base is made of soft musk and clean cedar, gently carrying the fragrance, which sees itself coquettishly ensnared by honey."

Fragrance Profile:

• Top notes: ylang-ylang, Bulgarian Damascus rose, iris
• Middle notes: jasmine, heliotrope, tonka bean
• Base notes: honey, Bourbon vanilla, cedarwood, white musk

Scent Profile:

Experiencing the 2018 version of Maskee is like stepping into a luminous, theatrical ballroom where each note unveils itself with elegance and layered intrigue. The first impression is a radiant floral flourish, dominated by ylang-ylang, harvested from the Philippines, Madagascar, or the Comoros. This tropical flower exudes a rich, narcotic sweetness with slightly spicy undertones, thanks to its natural benzyl acetate, linalool, and p-cresyl methyl ether content. These molecules give the ylang-ylang a creamy, almost honeyed warmth that shimmers against the other top notes. Intertwined with this is Bulgarian Damascus rose, prized for its intensely deep, velvety scent, carrying rich phenylethyl alcohol and citronellol molecules that lend an opulent, dewy rose note distinguished from Turkish or Moroccan varieties by its sheer roundness and elegance. Iris, likely from Florentine rhizomes, contributes a delicate powdery elegance; its irones impart soft violet-like facets, a whisper of nostalgia, and a subtle, airy texture that lifts the initial richness of the florals.

As the perfume settles, the heart notes begin to bloom, revealing the creamy warmth of jasmine, with its indolic compounds bringing depth and sensuality. Jasmine’s scent is both bright and skin-like, evoking intimacy and allure. Heliotrope rises in tandem, its heliotropin molecule conjuring a marzipan-like sweetness that harmonizes beautifully with the soft almond nuances of tonka bean, whose coumarin content infuses the heart with powdery, slightly smoky warmth. This combination creates a tactile, gourmand floral richness, a floral bouquet that feels both sumptuous and comforting, while retaining a sense of restrained elegance rather than cloying sweetness.

Finally, the base notes anchor the fragrance with gentle, enveloping warmth. Honey adds a golden, viscous sweetness, simultaneously natural and radiant, enhancing the gourmand aspects of the tonka and heliotrope. Bourbon vanilla contributes its characteristic soft, creamy vanillin facets, rounded yet persistent, complementing the sweet warmth of the honey. Cedarwood, likely sourced from the Eastern Mediterranean or Virginia, offers a dry, resinous woodiness with subtle camphoraceous highlights, balancing the lush sweetness with structural elegance. The white musk, possibly a combination of natural and synthetic musks such as musk ketone, provides a clean, velvety veil, lingering on the skin and extending the perfume’s presence. Together, these elements create a fragrance that is at once opulent, playful, and sophisticated, capturing the spirit of masked revelry with a modern refinement: bright, floral, and gourmand on the surface, yet grounded in warm, soft sensuality.

Bouquet Antique (1923)

Bouquet Antique, introduced by Parfums Ciro in 1923, carries a name that immediately suggests refinement, nostalgia, and an air of cultivated elegance. The phrase is French—bouquet (boo-KAY) meaning “a cluster of flowers” or “a blended perfume,” and antique (ahn-TEEK), meaning “ancient” or “old-world.” Together, Bouquet Antique evokes the idea of a timeless floral arrangement—something with depth, history, and sophistication rather than the brightness of a freshly cut posy. It calls to mind the soft patina of age, heirloom objects, and the romantic charm of a bygone era. Emotionally, the name stirs impressions of vintage tapestries, ornate salons, and perfumes worn by women immortalized in paintings—elegant, worldly, and perhaps a touch mysterious.

The fragrance arrived at a pivotal moment in cultural history. The early 1920s were part of the Années Folles—the “Crazy Years”—a period in France and the greater Western world marked by artistic innovation, jazz-age glamour, and shifting social norms following the First World War. Women were embracing freedoms previously denied to them: shorter haircuts, modern fashions, and a more open engagement with cosmetics and fragrance. Perfume houses flourished, experimenting with new accords, bolder compositions, and luxurious presentations. Oriental fragrances, powdery florals, spice-laden blends, and rich bouquets became the dominant styles, fueled by advances in synthetic aroma chemicals and a growing fascination with exoticism.

Women of the 1920s would likely have responded warmly to a perfume called Bouquet Antique. The name speaks to tradition and refinement, yet also suggests a carefully constructed artistic blend—something luxurious and decidedly feminine. In an era that balanced modernity with nostalgia, a perfume bearing this name would have appealed to a woman who wanted to embrace new fashions without abandoning old-world sophistication. Its suggested suitability “for brunettes” reflects a common marketing trope of the period, when perfumers often matched fragrances to hair color, complexion, or personality type, adding an alluring, personalized mystique.

Interpreted through scent, Bouquet Antique promises a floral arrangement enriched with spice and oriental warmth: a soft, shadowed bouquet rather than a bright modern floral. One imagines dusky petals, powdered spices, and a gentle resinous glow—notes that unfold slowly and linger intimately on the skin. The classification as a soft, spicy floral oriental fits neatly into the era’s fascination with opulence, exotic themes, and sensuality, yet it stands apart in its more subdued, introspective character compared to the bold orientals that dominated the decade.

Henriette Gabilla, of Les Parfums de Gabilla, created this composition and was responsible not only for the fragrance but for shaping Ciro’s early identity. In 1923 she trademarked several of Ciro’s foundational names—Bouquet Antique, Ptah, and Le Chevalier de la Nuit—revealing her central role in the house’s creative direction. Her style often blended sophistication with a subtly dramatic aura, and Bouquet Antique fits this signature beautifully.

In the broader context of 1920s perfumery, Bouquet Antique harmonized with the prevailing trends—rich florals softened with powder, spices, resins, and emerging synthetic notes that gave fragrances increased longevity and complexity. Yet within that landscape, it maintained a distinctive elegance. It was neither aggressively modern nor entirely traditional. Instead, it offered a poised and graceful interpretation of the oriental-floral concept, making it a compelling choice for women who appreciated nuance and a sense of historic romance within their perfume wardrobe.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Bouquet Antique is classified as a soft, spicy floral oriental fragrance for women. It was suggested to be worn by brunettes.

• Top notes:  bergamot, lemon, neroli petale, petitgrain, sweet orange, hydroxycitronellal 
• Middle notes: carnation, clove, pimento, cinnamon, cinnamic alcohol, methyl eugenol, isoeugenol, jasmine, linalool, linalyl acetate, rose, phenyl ethyl alcohol, ylang ylang, heliotropin, violet, methyl ionone, iris  
• Base notes: benzyl salicylate, amyl salicylate, sandalwood, Peru balsam, labdanum, ambergris, castoreum, civet, musk, ambrette, vanilla, vanillin, benzoin, tonka bean, coumarin, cinnamic aldehyde, cedar, oakmoss, vetiver, opoponax, styrax, costus root, tolu balsam

Scent Profile:

Bouquet Antique opens with a shimmering, almost luminous brightness—an introduction that feels like sunlight passing through stained glass. The first breath brings the tart sparkle of Italian bergamot, its citrus oils carrying a soft floral nuance that is unmistakably Mediterranean. Lemon follows immediately, sharper and more crystalline, lending a clean, brisk shimmer that wakes the senses. Woven through this citrus glow is neroli pétale, a tender fraction of orange blossom that smells like fresh white petals just warmed by the sun—green, honeyed, and faintly waxy. 

Petitgrain, distilled from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, adds a counterpoint of leafy bitterness and a dry, herbaceous edge, while sweet orange softens the composition with round, juicy warmth. Into this bright orchard air floats hydroxycitronellal, the classic early-20th-century lily-of-the-valley molecule. Its cool, dewy greenness smooths the sharper citrus edges and creates a soft halo around the top notes, extending their freshness and lending an early hint of the powdery heart to come.

As the fragrance deepens, the heart reveals its true character—lush, spicy, and florid in the unmistakable style of the 1920s. Carnation unfurls first, reminiscent of the great carnation perfumes of the Art Deco era: peppery, clove-rich, and slightly metallic. This spiciness is heightened by clove bud oil, its eugenol-rich warmth immediately recognizable, but here nuanced by the complexity of pimento berry, which brings an allspice-like resonance—warm, rounded, and slightly sweet. 

Cinnamon and cinnamic alcohol continue the theme, adding both the dry warmth of ground spice and the honeyed, balsamic sweetness of its natural aromatic molecules. These natural spices are intensified and shaped by subtle touches of methyl eugenol and isoeugenol, materials that were often naturally present in floral absolutes of the period. They enhance the warmth and fullness of the carnation accord, smoothing the sharper edges and giving the heart a glowing, velvety depth.

From beneath this spicy architecture rises a grand, opulent floral bouquet. Jasmine, with its rich, indolic warmth, breathes a softly animalic undertone that makes the composition feel alive. Rose, elevated by phenyl ethyl alcohol, adds fresh dewiness and a natural, petal-like roundness—less “perfume-like” and more like the breath of a living flower. Ylang ylang contributes its creamy, custard-like florality, binding the spices and white florals with its exotic warmth. Linalool and linalyl acetate, naturally occurring in many flowers, act as gentle diffusers—adding airiness, shimmer, and polish, preventing the dense floral heart from becoming too heavy.

Soft violet breezes drift through the fullness of the bouquet, shaped by methyl ionone, which lends the unmistakable, powdery velvet of Parma violet and a hint of orris-like sweetness. True iris, cool and buttery, adds a refined, cosmetic-like elegance. Heliotropin glows at the edges with its almond-vanilla softness, adding a nostalgic, powdery sweetness that feels utterly in line with early 1920s perfumery—romantic, feminine, and slightly wistful.

As Bouquet Antique settles into its base, the composition becomes warm, resinous, and gently animalic—an oriental in the true classical sense. Benzyl salicylate and amyl salicylate lay down a silky, floral-woody foundation, smoothing transitions and adding long-lasting radiance. Sandalwood, very likely Mysore in origin during the period, brings its legendary creamy, milky depth—soft, meditative, and luxuriously persistent.

The resinous accord is sumptuous: Peru balsam, with its vanillic sweetness; benzoin, warm and comforting; tolu balsam, rich and slightly smoky; styrax and opoponax, adding leathery, ambered, incense-like warmth. Labdanum gives the base a dark, resinous chewiness that anchors the sweeter elements. Oakmoss contributes its deep forest-green earthiness—damp, mossy, shadowed—while vetiver threads through with its smoky, rooty elegance.

Animalic notes—hallmarks of 1920s perfumery—breathe life into the drydown. Ambergris provides salty, shimmering radiance and incomparable diffusion. Civet, in tiny classical amounts, lends warmth and sensuality, while castoreum introduces a leathery, subtly smoky undertone. Musk and botanical ambrette seed soften these edges, giving the base a soft pelt-like warmth, plush and inviting.

The sweeter notes rise last: vanilla and vanillin providing creamy warmth, coumarin imparting its hay-tonka elegance, and cinnamic aldehyde adding a lingering trace of spice. Costus root, with its warm, skin-like, slightly animalic softness, adds one final whisper of intimacy.

Together, these elements create a fragrance that feels like an antique bouquet preserved in silk and amber—a spicy floral oriental glowing with warmth, romance, and vintage refinement. It unfolds gradually, each ingredient revealing itself as though you were leaning closer and closer to the heart of a timeworn, perfumed heirloom.

Bottles:

Bouquet Antique appeared in a presentation that perfectly reflected its name—a harmony of softness, refinement, and quiet luxury. The bottle itself had a gentle, rounded silhouette, its curves echoing the fluid grace of early-1920s design. Rather than sharp lines or angular modernity, this flacon favored a more romantic profile, almost as if it were shaped by hand rather than machine. Its most striking feature was the stopper: a delicately molded blossom with petals that seem to droop naturally, as though captured at the moment just before they fall. This floral form was further elevated with touches of blue and gold enamel, adding a whisper of color and a sense of jeweled ornamentation without overwhelming the understated beauty of the glass.

The sizes offered allowed the fragrance to reach different audiences and serve different purposes. The tallest version, standing at 5 inches, held a generous 8 ounces of Eau de Toilette—ideal for regular, lavish use and likely intended for the vanity table of someone who wore the fragrance daily. The 3.5-inch bottle contained 2.5 ounces of Parfum, while the 2.75-inch bottle offered 1 ounce of the more concentrated extrait. These parfum bottles would have felt precious and intimate in the hand, designed for slow, deliberate use and treasured as personal objects of luxury. A miniature standing just 1⅜ inches tall was introduced later, around 1930, allowing the fragrance to be enjoyed as a collectible keepsake or gifted in a charming, portable form.

Altogether, the presentation of Bouquet Antique combined elegance, sensuality, and the refined craftsmanship associated with Parfums Ciro and the early 20th century. Its softly rounded form and flower-shaped enamelled stopper created an immediate impression of delicate femininity, while the range of sizes underscored its place as both an object of daily adornment and a small jewel of a perfume bottle worthy of collection.

Hearst's, 1928:

"All the Ciro Perfumes — including Doux Jasmin, Bouquet Antique, and Parfum Maskee — are made, packaged, and sealed in France."

Another bottle was used for Bouquet Antique and was a tall modified version of the round bottle. This newer bottle was cylindrical and tapered at the top, much like a cone, it had a molded, frosted glass stopper also in the shape of a flower. This Art Deco bottle was decorated with blue, yellow and black enamel. Bottle stands 3.25" tall.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued, date unknown. Still sold in 1941. 

Oh La La (1959)

Oh La La by Parfums Ciro made its debut in 1959, a moment when perfumery was embracing both elegance and modernity. The choice of the name “Oh La La” was deliberate—an instantly recognizable French expression that conveys admiration, delight, or a touch of flirtatious surprise. Pronounced in simple terms as “ooh la la,” the phrase evokes lighthearted glamour, feminine charm, and the effortless sophistication often associated with mid-century Parisian style. Its playful lilt carried an emotional charge: a wink of seduction, a breath of excitement, and the promise of something irresistibly chic.

When the fragrance appeared, the world was in the midst of what we now call the late 1950s—a transitional phase between post-war restraint and the cultural blossoming that would define the 1960s. Fashion emphasized polished femininity: cinched waists, full skirts, pearls, and immaculate grooming inspired by icons such as Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and the rising influence of Paris couture houses. At the same time, youth culture, international cinema, and increased travel began shaping tastes, infusing beauty and fashion with a desire for novelty and cosmopolitan flair. In perfumery, aldehydic florals, chypres, and sophisticated woody blends dominated the market, frequently marketed as modern, luxurious, and unmistakably feminine.

Against this backdrop, a perfume called Oh La La would have appealed to women seeking glamour with a wink of playfulness. The name alone suggested a spirited confidence—the sort of charm that acknowledged tradition while leaning into a more youthful, contemporary attitude. It carried the promise of something stylish yet slightly daring, an accessory for women who embraced elegance without taking themselves too seriously.

Interpreting “Oh La La” in scent, Parfums Ciro delivered an aldehydic woody floral composition that began with a bright, sparkling blend of aldehydes and citrus. This effervescence evoked the crisp gleam of polished pearls or the shimmer of champagne bubbles. A heart of rose and jasmine, warmed by hints of spice, provided a classic floral core—refined but expressive. The fragrance settled into a chypre base enriched with warm woods and ambergris, lending depth, sensuality, and lasting sophistication.

While Oh La La fit neatly within the dominant trends of the era—particularly the continued popularity of aldehydic florals and chypres—it offered its own engaging interpretation through its spirited identity and charming presentation. Rather than breaking entirely from tradition, it harmonized with the tastes of the time while offering a name and character that made it memorable among its contemporaries.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Oh La La is classified as an aldehydic woody floral fragrance for women. It begins with a sparkling aldehydic and citrus top, followed by a spicy floral heart of rose and jasmine, resting on a classic chypre base punctuated with warm woods and ambergris.

• Top notes: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, neroli, sweet orange, petitgrain, galbanum, clary sage 
• Middle notes: hydroxycitronellal, lilial, rose geranium, rose, jasmine, ylang ylang, carnation, clove, eugenol, orris butter, violet ionone,  
• Base notes: labdanum, musk, sandalwood, benzoin, tonka bean, coumarin, vanilla, vanillin, castoreum, civet, cedar, ambergris, patchouli, vetiver, oakmoss

Scent Profile:

The first impression of Oh La La rises in a bright, quicksilver shimmer—those classic mid-century aldehydes that seem to glow rather than smell, radiating a clean, fizzy brilliance like sunlight flashing off polished glass. They lift the entire composition, setting the stage for the citrus that follows. Bergamot, especially prized when sourced from Calabria, lends a tart, elegant greenness unmatched by other citruses. Italian bergamot carries a refined bitterness and a soft floral undertone, making it more sophisticated than lemon or orange alone. 

Lemon adds sharper sparkle, a bright zest that feels almost effervescent on the skin. Sweet orange rounds this with a juicy, sun-warmed sweetness, softening the sharper citrus edges. Then comes neroli—the distilled blossoms of bitter orange from places like Tunisia and Morocco—bringing a honeyed floral brightness with a delicate metallic sheen. Petitgrain, taken from the leaves and twigs of the same tree, adds a crisp, green counterpoint, grounding the airy florals with leafy freshness. A breath of galbanum, the famous Iranian resin known for its piercing, sap-green sharpness, slices through the top in a bold, exhilarating streak of green. Finally, clary sage contributes a musky-herbal warmth, adding a silken, slightly earthy undertone that smooths the transition into the floral heart.

As the aldehydes fade into a soft halo, the fragrance blooms into a richly faceted floral tableau. Hydroxycitronellal, one of the early great synthetic floral notes, creates a glowing muguet-like freshness—dewy, green, and slightly citrus-touched. It acts as a bridge between the crisp opening and the richer florals that follow. Lilial, another iconic mid-century material, adds a soft, powdery lily-of-the-valley glow, creating an ethereal, feminine softness. These synthetics don’t overshadow the naturals; instead, they extend and illuminate them, giving the florals a radiance nature alone cannot sustain. Rose geranium, typically from Egypt, contributes a rosy-green sharpness—peppery, bright, and slightly mint-tinged—while true rose deepens the heart with velvety, honeyed warmth. Depending on its origin, rose oil shifts in character: Bulgarian rose often reads more jammy and lush; Moroccan rose more lemony and airy.

Jasmine, likely from Grasse or Egypt, adds its narcotic bloom—sweet, creamy, and subtly indolic—giving the fragrance its sensual core. Ylang-ylang, particularly exquisite when sourced from the Comoros or Madagascar, brings a custard-rich, slightly fruity warmth, softening the sharper floral edges. A touch of carnation and clove introduces a warm, spicy contrast, while eugenol—the primary molecule responsible for clove’s scent—sharpens the spice with a medicinal, peppery bite. Orris butter, among the most luxurious ingredients in perfumery, lends its characteristic powdery-violet coolness, buttery yet dry, adding aristocratic elegance. Violet ionone, a key synthetic note, reinforces the orris with a soft, violet-petal transparency, introducing a nostalgic, cosmetic softness that feels unmistakably mid-century.

As the fragrance settles, Oh La La reveals a sumptuous, deeply textured chypre base. Labdanum, a resin traditionally harvested in Spain and Crete, brings a leathery, ambered richness—dark, warm, slightly smoky. Its honey-resin depth forms the backbone of the chypre structure. Oakmoss, most prized when sourced from the mountainous forests of the Balkans, adds its unmistakable damp, velvety, forest-floor complexity—earthy, slightly salty, and shadowed with bitter green nuances. Patchouli, often from Indonesia, contributes a dark, earthy-woody richness, while vetiver—especially the superior Haitian variety—adds dry, rooty depth with a faint smoky edge.

Threading through this deep forested base are warm woods: sandalwood, prized for its creamy, milky softness; cedar, with its pencil-shaving dryness; and touches of benzoin, lending a sweet vanilla-amber warmth. Tonka bean and its principal molecule, coumarin, bring almond-tinged tobacco sweetness, bridging the woods and resins with comforting warmth. Vanilla and vanillin add subtle sweetness—vanilla being more rounded and natural, vanillin offering a stronger, crystalline sweetness that enhances projection.

Then come the animalics—hallmarks of 1950s sensuality. Civet adds a warm, musky glow; castoreum contributes a soft, leathery warmth; and the musk accord—likely a combination of early synthetic musks—creates a lingering, powdery softness. These traces evoke the intimate luxury so beloved in mid-century perfumery, shaping a base that feels undeniably feminine, warm, and sophisticated. Finally, ambergris threads through it all with its airy, marine-amber radiance, giving lift and longevity. It softens the resins, warms the woods, and leaves the skin glowing long after the other notes fade—an elegant, sensual echo of the fragrance’s name.

Together, these materials create a perfume that feels both glamorous and mischievous: sparkling and aldehydic at the start, richly floral at the center, and grounded in a chypre shadow warmed by woods, resins, and animalic whispers. A scent that perfectly embodies the spirit of its era—effortless, flirtatious, and undeniably captivating.

Bottles:

You will probably come across this square parfum bottle most often. It is fitted with a goldtone screwcap.

It was available in four sizes:

• 5ml miniature
• 1/2 oz (15ml)
• 1 oz (30ml)
• 2 oz (60ml)

Less commonly found are the hourglass shaped bottles. The parfum flacon has a ground glass stopper in the shape of a fan. Eau de Cologne and Bath Oil was available in a modified form of the parfum flacon  but fitted with a screw cap.

Other bottles were also used.

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Oh La La arrived on the market as a fragrance designed to delight, a scent described in early advertising as “a gay, sparkling scent of woods and amber.” Even in its original perfume concentration, priced at $22.50 for an ounce, it was positioned as a bright, effervescent composition that shimmered on the skin before warming into a soft, ambered glow. Ciro presented it not as a simple perfume, but as a mood—lighthearted, flirtatious, and irresistibly polished.

By 1959, Harper’s Bazaar was calling Oh La La “Ciro’s provocative new adventure in perfume,” emphasizing that it captured “everyone’s most unashamedly romantic dream of Paris.” Their wording reflects how the fragrance was experienced: rose and jasmine formed the heart, touched with just the faintest breath of spice, creating a floral aura that felt luminous rather than heavy. They described it as “sparkling and sultry”—a paradox that made the perfume especially compelling. It offered brightness without sharpness, sensuality without opacity, and an unmistakable Parisian sophistication that women of the late 1950s found deeply appealing.

A couple of years later, LIFE magazine echoed the same sense of romantic fantasy, declaring, “It’s Paris in a perfume—too wonderful for words!” The pricing showed its status: $40 for two ounces, $22.50 for one, and $12.50 for a half-ounce—significant sums for the time. Yet Ciro also ensured accessibility through domestic blends of Eau de Parfum, Perfume Mist, Mist Concentre, and Bath Powder, all ranging from $3 to $5. This versatility helped Oh La La become a recognizable household fragrance, an accessible luxury that promised a whisper of Parisian glamour in everyday life. Advertisements from this period often paired Oh La La with Ciro’s other iconic fragrances—Reflexions and Danger—suggesting that the brand saw it as part of a trio emblematic of elegance, daring, and sparkling femininity.

As tastes evolved in the mid-1960s, so did Oh La La’s presentation. The 1965 Harper’s Bazaar announcement revealed the introduction of the “Genuine Spray,” a modern innovation that resonated with a generation increasingly drawn to convenience, precision, and style. The new spray delivered “pure” and carefully measured bursts of fragrance at the pulse points, allowing the wearer to experience the perfume’s structure exactly as intended. The refillable ripple-motif glass flacon highlighted the fragrance’s refined character while adding a contemporary visual charm.

Newspaper descriptions from that same year, such as in The Wichita Eagle, emphasized how this updated format showcased the scent’s character: a blend of woods and amber, accented by rose and jasmine, all housed in a chic white box decorated with a lacy point d’esprit pattern and a jaunty red bow. Everything—from the fragrance to the packaging—was crafted to suggest feminine elegance with a playful twist.

By 1966, trade publications like Soap, Cosmetics, Chemical Specialties noted that Oh La La had become the design model for Ciro’s expanding spray line. Fragrances such as Danger, Reflections, and New Horizons were all introduced in the same ripple-motif flacon, a sign that Oh La La had achieved both commercial success and visual recognizability. It represented the modern face of Ciro during this period.

The fragrance appears to have been phased out around 1969, but it continued to be sold into 1970, leaving a legacy of nearly a decade of admiration. Oh La La remained beloved because it embodied the glamour and optimism of its era: a sparkling aldehydic lift, a glowing floral heart, and a warm embrace of woods and amber. It promised a touch of Paris, a dash of flirtation, and an atmosphere of polished radiance—qualities that defined its appeal then and continue to define its charm in memory today.

Surrender (1931)

In 1931, Parfums Ciro turned to the public in search of the perfect name for their newest fragrance, offering a generous $500 prize—a considerable sum during the Depression—to whoever could capture the perfume’s spirit in a single word. The winning entry came from Miss Helen Laird of St. Louis, Missouri, a young woman employed in the perfume department of the elegant Scruggs-Vandervoort-Barney Dry Goods Company, one of the city’s premier shopping destinations. Surrounded each day by the finest perfumes and the women who wore them, Laird had an instinctive feel for language, mood, and allure.

Her choice—“Surrender”—stood out instantly. It felt emotional yet refined, bold yet romantic, and it carried the unmistakable suggestion of giving in to beauty, to charm, to the irresistible pull of a fragrance. The name expressed precisely the mood Ciro sought: a perfume that invited softness, yielded defenses, and created a lingering, enveloping presence on the skin. Laird’s contribution became more than a contest entry; it shaped the identity of one of Ciro’s most memorable creations.

Surrender, released by Parfums Ciro in 1931, carries a name chosen as much for its emotional resonance as for its poetic suggestiveness. The word “surrender,” pronounced as "suh-REN-der", comes from English, rooted in the Old French sur-rendre, meaning “to give over” or “to yield.” It is a word that instantly conjures images of letting one’s defenses fall away—of releasing tension, relinquishing control, and allowing oneself to be guided by feeling rather than reason. It suggests softness, romance, and the quiet intoxication of being swept up in a moment. For a perfume house, such a name promises a scent designed not to dominate, but to coax, soothe, and envelop.

When Surrender appeared, the world was navigating the early years of the Great Depression, a time defined by economic hardship but also by deep longing for beauty, escapism, and emotional relief. The early 1930s are often described as an era of refined glamour: the exuberance of the 1920s had softened, giving way to the sleek lines of Art Deco and the polished elegance of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Women wore bias-cut satin dresses that skimmed the body, hair styled in soft waves, and accessories chosen for streamlined sophistication. The influence of cinema was profound—perfume advertisements frequently borrowed the language of film, hinting at romance, surrender, and emotional transformation.

In this climate, a perfume called Surrender would have resonated deeply. Women of the period often viewed fragrance as an extension of identity and mood, and a name like this hinted at both emotional escape and sensual invitation. It suggested a fragrance meant to be worn during languid summer evenings, or in private moments when one wanted to feel delicate, cherished, or quietly alluring. The idea of “surrendering” in scent implied yielding to beauty, inviting tenderness, and letting the perfume soften the sharper edges of daily life.

Translating this name into scent, Ciro crafted a white floral oriental described as a light magnolia perfume—airy, creamy, and radiant, yet with enough depth to linger for hours. Magnolia in perfumery is associated with warm climates, luminous petals, and a subtle buttery quality that never overwhelms. In Surrender, the magnolia effect is brightened with greener facets, making it fresher and more buoyant than L’Origan, the iconic floral-oriental to which it was often compared. While it shared the same general fragrance family, Surrender was gentler, less ornate, and more fluid in character. It offered a tender, lulling rhythm rather than the operatic drama of earlier orientals.

What truly distinguished the fragrance, however, was its vetiver undercurrent. Vetiver, rarely used so prominently in feminine compositions of the time, added a quiet, grassy dryness that grounded the florals and gave the perfume a steady pulse. Described as “a delicious note based on vetiver,” this subtle earthiness prevented the scent from becoming overly sweet or powdery. Instead, it created a soft contrast—a tug between airy magnolia and the cool, whispering darkness of vetiver. That interplay made the fragrance feel contemplative, soothing, and emotionally immersive.

In the broader context of 1930s perfumery, Surrender aligned with trends toward lighter florals and more delicate orientals, yet it also stood apart. Many floral-orientals of the period leaned toward opulence and spice; Ciro’s interpretation opted instead for tranquility, brightness, and a more modern, uncluttered style. Its green magnolia theme and vetiver backbone gave it a nuanced elegance that gently echoed its name. Women who wore it would have experienced a fragrance that invited them to exhale—to loosen their emotional grip and allow the perfume’s soft harmony to carry them.

In essence, Surrender was a fragrance that reflected its time: a perfume born in an era hungry for gentleness, comfort, and beauty, offering the wearer a moment of release in a world undergoing profound change.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Surrender is classified as a white floral oriental fragrance for women and was described as a light magnolia scent perfect for warmer weather. Heady scent that lingers for hours. Greener than L'Origan but otherwise quite similar; not as much character and strength. 

• Top notes: bergamot, mandarin orange, lemon, petitgrain, coriander, pepper, lily of the valley, neroli, honeysuckle and violet leaf
• Middle notes: lavender, jasmine, tuberose, magnolia, carnation, violet, iris, ionone, orange blossom, carnation, clove, isoeugenol, rose, heliotrope, heliotropin, ylang ylang
• Base notes: galbanum, patchouli, vetiver, vetiveryl acetate,  oakmoss, vanilla, benzoin, ambergris, ambreine, civet, musk, musk ketone, frankincense, sandalwood, tonka bean, labdanum, frankincense, Peru balsam, tolu balsam, cedar, opoponax, orris

 

Scent Profile:

Surrender unfolds like a slow, luminous exhalation—its opening glimmering with green light, its heart drenched in white floral warmth, and its base humming with a deep, resinous glow. It was described as a light magnolia scent for warm weather, yet beneath that airiness lies a surprisingly intricate architecture. Smelling it ingredient by ingredient reveals how this white floral oriental creates its lingering, lulling rhythm—greener and more transparent than L’Origan, but woven from many of the same threads.

The first breath of Surrender feels like stepping into a garden just as morning breaks. Bergamot, likely from Calabria, brings its unmistakable clarity—bright citrus with a floral edge that gives the perfume its initial lift. Calabrian bergamot is prized for its balanced character: neither too sharp nor bitter, but rounded and sparkling. Alongside it, mandarin orange contributes a softer sweetness, the kind of citrus that feels tender rather than crisp, while lemon sharpens the composition with its brisk, almost effervescent cut. Petitgrain adds greenery right away. Distilled from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, it smells woody, leafy, and a little floral—bridging the citrus and the blossoms to come. It gives the opening the freshness of crushed stems.

The spice elements—coriander and pepper—introduce a subtle hum beneath the citrus sparkle. Coriander is unexpectedly soft: herbal, nutty, slightly sweet. Black pepper contributes a dry, radiant heat, never overtaking the flowers but energizing them.Then the green bloom begins. Lily of the valley, recreated here with delicate molecules, smells watery, silvery, and pure, like white petals floating in cool shade. Neroli, distilled from Tunisian or Moroccan orange blossoms, brightens everything with its honeyed-green purity—bittersweet, clean, and effervescent. Honeysuckle adds gentle sweetness, dewy and slightly fruity. Violet leaf brings a cool, aqueous greenness, almost cucumber-like, giving the perfume the fresh verdancy noted by early wearers. These top notes create the perfume’s signature freshness: green, airy, uplifting, and perfect for warm weather.

As the citrus-light fades, Surrender becomes a soft, white floral tapestry. The magnolia impression begins to emerge through layers of blossoms. Lavender forms a bridge into the heart, adding a faint aromatic coolness. Its herbal softness keeps the white florals from turning overly sweet.

The trio of jasmine, tuberose, and magnolia provides the main floral body. Jasmine is luminous and honeyed; tuberose is creamy and narcotic; magnolia smells like lemon-tinged petals warmed by the sun. Together, they create the heady but airy magnolia effect that the perfume was known for.
Carnation, spiced with hints of clove, adds body and a gentle piquant warmth. In fact, clove itself and isoeugenol—a key aroma molecule replicating clove’s spiced-floral quality—deepen this effect. The natural clove gives the perfume its floral spice, while the isoeugenol threads that spice more smoothly through the entire bouquet.

Violet and its key molecule ionone bring a powdery, velvety softness. Violet absolute is earthy and floral; ionone, derived from the breakdown of carotenoids, smells like violet petals transformed into fragrant air—ethereal, sweet, nostalgic. This pairing enhances the magnolia’s delicate radiance.
Iris introduces elegance with its cool, buttery, slightly dusty presence—a refined counterpoint to the lush white blooms.

Orange blossom returns in the heart, deepened and more sensual than in the top. Rose brings a gentle blush of warmth, and ylang ylang, especially prized when sourced from the Comoros, adds a creamy, banana-like floral richness with touches of spice. Heliotrope and heliotropin create a soft blanket of almondy, vanillic sweetness—powdery, comforting, and faintly reminiscent of sugared petals. The natural heliotrope is creamy and floral; heliotropin (piperonal) amplifies its soft-focus warmth and extends the delicacy into the base. Together, these middle notes form a heart that is radiant, romantic, and slightly nostalgic—lush without heaviness.

As Surrender settles, the oriental facet emerges in a base rich with balsams, woods, and musks.
Galbanum, a resin with sharp green intensity, keeps the drydown cool and fresh even as the heavier notes unfold. Its emerald bitterness reinforces the “greener than L’Origan” impression. Patchouli provides earthiness and depth; vetiver adds dry, grassy smoke. Vetiveryl acetate, a cleaned-up derivative of vetiver, brings a smoother, more polished version of vetiver’s woody-green theme—refining rather than replacing the natural note. Oakmoss brings the classic chypre undertone: earthy, forested, subtly salty. It adds sophistication and helps the perfume cling to the skin in soft velvet.

Then the balsams arrive: Benzoin – sweet, resinous, with hints of vanilla and polished wood. Labdanum – warm, leathery, ambery. Peru and Tolu balsams – smoky, sweet, softly medicinal resins that anchor the floral warmth. Opoponax – deep, honeyed, almost incense-like. Frankincense, appearing twice in this structure, adds a liturgical brightness—lemony, resinous, and serene. It lifts the heavier balsams and gives the drydown a spiritual, floating quality. 

Ambergris (and its synthetic echo, ambreine) contributes a salty, skin-like radiance. Ambergris lends the perfume its longevity and sense of soft diffusion; ambreine smooths and enhances this glow. Civet and musk add subtle animalic warmth—soft, purring, sensual without overt heaviness. Musk ketone, a classic nitro-musk, contributes a powdery, warm, slightly sweet haze that wraps the composition in a gentle aura. The woods complete the foundation: Sandalwood – creamy, warm, milky, especially prized when sourced from Mysore. Cedar – dry, pencil-shavings clean. Orris – powdery, buttery, quiet but persistent. Tonka bean, with its coumarin-rich almond warmth, gives the perfume a tender finish, melding with vanilla to soften the resins and woods.

Surrender opens green and sunlit, blooms into a white floral heart saturated with creamy magnolia light, and dries down into a warm, resin-glowing oriental softened by woods, musk, and moss. The interplay of natural florals and skilled use of synthetics—ionone, heliotropin, isoeugenol, musk ketone, ambreine, vetiveryl acetate—creates a fragrance that feels both luminous and lingering. It is gentle yet long-lasting, romantic yet serene—an olfactory invitation to release tension, soften the mind, and, as its name promises, surrender.

L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

"Surrender by Ciro: a perfume with a lulling rhythm that charms you with a delicious note based on vetiver."

Bottles:

 In 1931, the debut presentation of Surrender appeared as a limited edition housed in a specially commissioned Baccarat crystal flacon. This luxurious release was presented in a modernistic gray velvet box set over a wooden base wrapped in silver foil. Its construction subtly echoed the sloped silhouette of Georgian knife boxes, giving the design a refined historical reference while remaining thoroughly contemporary in spirit.

The box opened on a hinged lid that folded fully backward, revealing the crystal bottle nestled within a precisely cut recess. The interior was lined in silver foil and backed with a genuine mirror, a thoughtful detail that heightened the sparkle and refraction of the faceted crystal. Standing about 7.5 inches tall, the box featured two narrow grooved silver-toned ornaments on the exterior—details that evoked the clean, vertical lines of a skyscraper. A 1931 advertisement captured this modern flair, calling Surrender “the newest and smartest of modern perfumes… in handsome sky-scraper velvet box in gray.”

The Baccarat bottle itself was crafted in clear crystal with a diamond-faceted octagonal form and a conforming eight-sided stopper. The underside was etched “Bottle Made in France” and “Baccarat.” For this edition, a gilded enamel collar encircled the neck, lettered in black with “Ciro Paris France.” One face of the bottle also carried the name Surrender in gilded script with a black outline, paired again with “Ciro Paris France.” With the stopper in place, the bottle stands approximately 4⅝ inches tall and holds 2.8 ounces of parfum.

Many surviving boxes no longer show the original gray tone; exposure to tobacco smoke over time has often shifted the velvet to a warm brown, a change frequently seen in period examples.

The smaller Baccarat box was also housed in a velvet box, but this one was not hinged.

The Baccarat bottle was also used for a less expensive presentation, probably during the 1940s when luxury boxes were unattainable.

Diamond Bottles:

• 2.8 oz Baccarat bottle stands 4⅝ inches tall
• 1.5 oz Baccarat bottle stands 4" tall
• 0.66 (2/3 oz) bottle stands 4.5" tall.
• 0.75 (3/4 oz) bottle stands 3.5" tall.
• 1 oz bottle stands 3" tall.
• 0.5 (1/2 oz) bottle stands 2.25" tall.

By 1934, the presentation of Surrender shifted to a more economical format, and the smaller sizes such as the 0.75 oz and the 1.5 oz of the diamond-cut bottle reflected this new direction. These later flacons no longer carried the gilded enamel band encircling the neck, a distinguishing feature reserved for the 1931 limited edition. Instead, they were fitted with simple silver paper labels. Likewise, the gilded hand-applied lettering once placed directly on the shoulders of the Baccarat bottle was discontinued. In its place, manufacturers used clear acetate labels embellished with gilded serigraphy, offering a streamlined and less costly alternative to artisanal decoration.

The outer packaging was also simplified. The earlier velvet-covered, mirrored presentation case was replaced by slip-cover cardboard boxes decorated with a printed pattern of broken horizontal lines. Inside, the bottle no longer rested within a recessed cavity; instead, it was displayed upright against a standing wire frame. This updated design maintained a tidy appearance while reducing production expenses, reflecting the practical adjustments many perfume houses made during the mid-1930s.

 

Other less expensive editions were produced by other companies and were contained in different bottles and packaging.  

Esscent:

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

 

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued. Still being sold in 1969.