Vent Vert (original) (1947)
by Pierre Balmain

Leonard Bernstein once said about Beethoven's music that it had "shocking rightness", and I can't think of a better description of Vent Vert. Real VV (peace be to Calice Becker, but there is only one) is a stunningly accomplished, gorgeous composition that blows in from Someplace Else and just knocks you on your ass, a world-class beauty with a wild green outsider soul. It is my favorite perfume of all time.

1st December, 2011. (Last Edited: 2nd December, 2011.)

vent vert was my first scent when i was a teenager - other than 4711, which i never thought of in the same way - it was something you could wash your hair with if you needed to -

vent vert extrait came to me in an ounce bottle that was contraband, having been unlawfully imported into the country by the crew of one of Hapag-Lloyd's ships at the begining of the 60s. of course this added to the glamour, as did the fact that nobody - nobody - else had anything remotely like it (it was not available in the country at that time). it had a greeny-golden viscous nature that reminded everyone immediately of absinthe, and like absinthe there was a core of sweetness inside the various bitter and green and resiny odours.

yes, it was very fresh and cold. like spring, which lasts about a day and a half here, cold and wet but with the burgeoning green scent of the natural world growing beyond our control - and then the sun comes out and all the whiffs and teasing trails of flower just glitter in the light.

i miss it.

17th May, 2011.

Vent Vert conjures spring, but not in the traditional sense of baby animals, bulb flowers and Easter parades. It is that small window of tolerable, damp chill before everyone carps about the heat incessantly. Therefore, Vent Vert is harsh like a cold rain blowing in your face. I smell old school lily of the valley bath cubes with a hefty dose of galbanum from the start. You can make out roses and lilac in the heart, but there is a skank note in it like pond sludge. The iconoclastic Germaine Cellier famously worked with chemical bases. This is meant to smell kinky. Ian Fleming loved this scent, and in Live and Let Die, voodoo queen Solitaire wore it. That makes perfect sense to me, because it is frigid, other worldly and clean. There is some nice civet in the base to off set this. It also smells really good in industrial areas, because you smell chemicals and cleaning products in it. There is rubber that reminds me of Bandit, which is the dominatrix, while Vent Vert is the naughty nurse.

15th April, 2011.

If the harsh old lady musky-powdery poof was eliminated, this might be more wearable for today. I can see where Vent Vert is attempting to go with the very alluring galbanum-leafy opening, but the excessive musk and oakmoss in the dry down makes this dated in a not classic way. Sweaty gardenia and gravely peach in the opening do not properly introduce the green in this fragrance. Rather they make this fragrance weighted down rather than fresh.

6th April, 2011.

One of my friends used to wear the EDT version of Vent Vert during the 60s; on her it smelled very similar to Blue Grass, which I loved.

I didn't smell Vent Vert again until the early 80s when I bought a bottle of Parfum. I think this must have been old stock: I have never smelled anything so awful! Rather than being the grassy fragrance my friend wore, it smelled like the water peas had been boiled in. It actually made me reach!

I am assuming that this bottle had gone off, and that it is not how the Parfum was supposed to smell. However, on this experience I can only give it a thumbs down.

29th March, 2010.

This review is for the vintage extrait. It is a warm, golden green. Sappy, rather than soapy, liquory rather than sharp. Blended and melded, to the extent that only the galbanum and rose really stand out on my skin. This is a perfect, freshly-crushed flower, complete with its waxy green leaves and stalks (vetiver). Incredibly lovely.

7th March, 2010.