N'Aimez Que Moi by Caron, 1917

One of my all-time favourite scents, and one I'd never want to be without. The opening of cedar and rose, quite dark and mysterious, like a half-hidden path through the woods, and then the swelling of yet more rose, this time with iris and violet, and something I can't identify; and finally the deep Caron base with its civet and oakmoss (which presumably is now tree moss, because of IFRA regs). You wear this perfume like a voyage of discovery. First, the cedars and wild roses shade your way through the forest, and then you discover the violets and irises blooming amongst the undergrowth. All the while, the civet and musk base draw you deeper and deeper into the woods, until you are almost lost. But the beautiful rose and violet notes act like Ariadne's thread, so that you never actually lose your way as you press forward all the way to the forest edge. On me, both extrait and EdP last several hours. Yes, it's old-fashioned in a good way, reminding me of the beautiful art nouveau jewelry and lace-bedecked clothes of the Edwardian era. It brings a touch of that lost world of quality and manners into our hectic 21st century lives. I have both the extrait and the EdP, and whenever I wear them I'm taken back in time to that more gracious era. If you appreciate vintage and classic scents, this is definitely one to try.

I feel it is quite a shame that this great classic (nearly 100 years old) enduring the challenges of times (with rather completely different tastes in the perfume market today etc.) gets very little mention and obviously very few reviews. It is very easy to dimiss this as musty and dated. Most of all, it has to do with the fact that today we hardly understand the nature of grand classic extraits de parfum that take their time to settle down and notes melting together on our skin, in order to create a dense, complex and rich olfactive experience. Violet is certainly an important contributor in here at times while the fragrance shifts, which makes it tricky territory for myself and also adds much to the dated feel. The dark musty rose with a slightly smoky (I can't help but thinking of a component this shares with Tabac Blond) musk don't really help to change the mood of this composition. Actually, this stage in its really long-drawn drydown, where the smokiness is clearly perceptible, is my very favorite. It is the almost nocturnal blend of these exquisite dark rosy facets with a violet candy touch, a distinctive vanilla (not too sweet) and exactly this smoky muskiness that is very alluring. N'aimez que moi is an old-world beauty from times bygone with class and eventually less innocence than the first two hours make you believe. Moderate sillage (elegant and comfortable) with very good longevity. Again, I only care for the extraits of the great Caron fountain perfumes. One last comparison: N'aimez que moi is far superior and interesting than Amouage Opus III to me.

A few miles down the road from me is the (in)famous Winchester House, built by the unfathomably wealthy widow of the Winchester fortune. If you dont know the story, she lost her husband and infant daughter at a relatively young age, and spent the rest of her life in a depressive state, supposedly haunted by the spirits of all who met their fate by a Winchester gun.

She believed if she ever stopped building her mansion, she would die, and today the house stands as a testament to her state of mind. Staircases lead nowhere, walls were built and not finished with plaster, and after the 1906 earthquake an entire wing was boarded up and made off limits, proof that the spirits were out to punish her.

The one shining exception to this shrine to insanity is Sarahs bedroom. As you climb an uneven set of 3 inch stairs (she suffered from arthritis later in life), you stumble into a room where you are hit by a blast of opulence. Deep, red velvet curtains and tapestries cover the windows, chairs and sitting couches. Her four poster bed and dressers are made of dark, well polished wood. The floor is made of intricately weaved overlay, and the marble fireplace is stunningly ornate.

If you tour this house may I suggest wearing Naimez que moi. It is THE scent for this landmark, as it opens as a moth-ridden, mess of a fragrance that appears to go nowhere. But then it turns the corner and bursts forth with an incredibly rich Bulgarian rose and violet accord. Its as if you were channeling Sarah herself, who at one point was one of the wealthiest persons in America. I love this complex scent; it is mysterious, grand, and utterly original.

N'Aimez Que Moi was created in 1916, int he midst of World War 1, to bring some hope and the promise of faithfulness to the many couples that had to part ways until the war was over.
You dont need to know all this to enjoy NAimez Que Moi gives a sense of intimacy and comfort. Despite the fact that it is in a sense an old fashioned scent, it is so well made and artfully blended that it is timeless. NAimez Que Mois opens dark and dense, as most Caron perfumes do. The rose is nearly hidden in thorns and darkness of notes of cedar, moss and what seems to be the crying out loud of the Caron base Slowly but surely, fresh roses start to bloom and open up with dewy petals but an almost green intensity. There is something very convincing and real about them they are just about as close to true rose as Ive ever smelled. But the roses dont stand out on their own. The companionship of candied violets and powdery orris softens the green edge of the blooming roses, with a softness akin to kissing a very soft, freshly powdered cheek. And once youve reached the dry down, animalic tonalities of both jasmine and civet* create a sensuality and a sense of intimacy and closeness that lingers even longer than a kiss.

Top notes: Cedar, Rose
Heart notes: Rose, Violet, Orris
Base notes: Civet, Jasmine, Moss

* The drydown is so utterly similar to Joy that I am wondering if NAimez Que Moi wasnt the inspiration for that perfume. However, NAimez Que Moi is so much more delicate and wearable for me, with none of the intense sharpness of aldehyde and lily of the valley that Joy attacks me with for the first couple of hours of wear.