Narcisse Noir (1911)
by Caron

Caron Narcisse Noir

I'm not sure what it is that attracts me so much to the old style perfumers from the early 20th century but everytime I wear one of their creations I am struck by the possibilities and realizations of the artistry of perfumery. Ernest Daltroff's 1911 creation of Narcisse Noir for Caron is another of these moments. Narcisse Noir has a complexity and richness to it that it seems modern compositions lack. This isn't to say that modern compositions are inferior, in my opinion, just different; and M. Daltroff and his contemporaries very likely mirrored the style sensibilities of their era. I just know that wearing Narcisse Noir makes me want to see a revival of that style, again. The top of Narcisse Noir is orange blossom, bergamot, and lemon. The sweetness of the orange blossom is contrasted by the tartness of the lemon. The orange blossom stays in place as the narcissus makes its entrance and this narcissus comes in like a diva sweeping all away in front of it. Like a diva after making a smashing entrance she allows a few companions in rose and jasmine to come close but only so you admire the reflected glory. The base of Narcisse Noir is where the Noir part of this scent resides as a sheer white musk sits over a sandalwood and civet foundation. This turns Narcisse Noir very sensuous and feels like the clock has struck midnight somewhere in the world. Narcisse Noir has excellent longevity and above average sillage, on me. Ernest Daltroff, as the founder of Caron, has made many of the great fragrances all perfumistas adore but the one I return to most is Narcisse Noir.

This review is for the vintage EDT and Parfum. As a person who does not particularly care for florals, I have to say that Narcisse Noir deserves its reputation as the femme fatale of all florals. While the opening can be a little sharp, it immediately settles into something that's creamy sweet, yet simultaneously smouldering with dark sensuality. Its innocence can't quite hide the animalic aggression that lies beneath it and this creates the kind of tension that I thought Fracas would have, but didn't. I'm smitten and I swoon every time I catch a whiff of it. Ernest Daltroff was a genious and it's a shame that the newest reformulation (which I tried) didn't stay true to his original vision. I had the hardest time getting my hands on the vintage parfum, but was glad I did. But if you can't manage to get the original parfum, the vintage EDT can be found ocassionally on ebay and it smells as great as the parfum. Grab either if you get the chance.

I get some kind of grape candy from this....some sort of homemade grape concoction left in the sun on the hottest day of the year. Strangely medicinal. Wrong kind of orange blossom here for me, but some people may like the aloofness and history attached to it.

Recently my very young, attractive neighbor informed me that he'd watched 'Sunset Boulevard' in film class that day and thought of me. Now, I'm assuming he was referencing my love of classic cinema and not my eventual metamorphosis into a pathetic, delusional old lady. Anyway, if that isn't a sign that I need this perfume in my collection then by God I don't really know what is. Dark, near carbolic, strangely sweet and etheral. A scent to bewitch and frighten, slightly. Who doesn't get chills over Norma Desmond's love for Narcisse Noir? I once read that Louise Brooks also wore this perfume. Voila!

Dear Caron,
What did you do to My perfume? I used to find myself in an incense infused temple in springtime, and now I find some gas station attempt at a memory.
what the heck?

I had heard a lot about this perfume, so started by getting some of the EDT. Pretty clouds of neroli, with a warmer drydown, but not lasting. Then I realised that there was an earlier incarnation and managed to get some from e-bay. What a difference! The two bear no resemblance. The original Narcisse Noir is dark, disturbing, edgy, elegant - altogether more complex and interesting. I smell pepper, copper, frankincense, lavender and bitter moss, with a later warmth of sandalwood. Utterly gorgeous. It reminds me of Le Dix by Balenciaga, not so much because of the scent itself but in terms of its individual and unexpected composition. Why Caron ever wanted to substitute the new formulation is beyond me. Get the original if you can; it's truly a unique perfume.