Perfume Directory

L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum (1912)
by Guerlain

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L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum information

Year of Launch1912
GenderFeminine
AvailabilityIn Production
Average Rating
(based on 833 votes)

People and companies

HouseGuerlain
PerfumerJacques Guerlain
PackagingRaymond Guerlain
Parent CompanyLVMH Moet Hennessy Louis Vuitton
Parent Company at launchGuerlain

About L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum

L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum is a feminine perfume by Guerlain. The scent was launched in 1912 and the fragrance was created by perfumer Jacques Guerlain. The bottle was designed by Raymond Guerlain.

L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum fragrance notes

Reviews of L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum

One part orange blossom, one part spicy carnation, one part violet. Throw in some heliotrope, some anise and other spices, and you have this remarkable, edible masterpiece.

I have not tried this in some years. I have a fluted EDC bottle, and an EDP from the "striped" gold box. I prefer the Cologne for its less-intense approach.

Women have worn this their entire lives, and it makes perfect sense why. It's all downhill after this.
25th April, 2020
rbaker Show all reviews
United Kingdom
The Bergamot and lemon start bright and fresh, with a bit of neroli adding a warm glow. So far, so good. This is counterbalanced by a darker and spicier - albeit restrainedly so - side, based on the triad of sage, coriander and anise; the latter is a hallmark god the L’heure bleue family. The balance of citrus fruit vs the fresh fruit is beautiful and the lovely equilibrium.

The drydown brings us the Bulgarian rose, with a green and leafy undertone with the woodsiness of the stem als me represented. A jasmine of a traditional make combines with iris and a dark orchid impression to a floral bouquet that fluctuates between darker and brighter, between sweet and a darkish green vibe. Gradually the more herbal and leafy aroma thickens and takes in a more creamy sweetness, to which a soft heliotrope as well as a smooth ylang-ylang contribute on an equal basis. A slightly raspier violet, with a slightly indolic benzoin component as well as whiffs of a tuberose, works very well together with the other florals, especially the rose.

The base is what has become a template for many other fragrances over the next 100 years after its release in 1912. Tonka and bean vanilla, underlines with a good lashing of woodsiness - cedar and a touch of sandalwood - is a familiar pattern nowadays, as is the light musky garnishing that round off the base. A vetiver that arises towards the end is quite restrained on me, but its earthiness shines though until the finish.

I get moderate sillage, excellent projection and a superb fourteen hours of longevity on my skin.

This rich and complex scent for spring evenings is one of the versions of this classic composition, whose floral power exudes confidence and voluptuous elegance. Whilst a bit thick at times, it nonetheless is setting a precedent in perfumery for the next many decades. 3.75/5.
21st February, 2020
Day's clear light fades in
to Night's cool dark eye static
Electricity

Textured iris by
Any means necessary
As the mind's eye blinks

"But Flower Puff Girls,
You say I make you tingle
Like it's a bad thing!"

Said Snow Blow Glow Go
As night descends upon the
City of Townsville

Tucked into bed by
Professor Bleuetonium
Somewhere in Paris

Safe from the monsters
Buzzy Spice with his Wood Gun
'Fumey thoughts of HYMN

So behold this here
E'r-fashioned innocence of
Oldform sniffstoffe

Me Ambroxan droogs
Iris, Jasmine, Bergamot
Rescue or rescued

One more story time
Our olfractured fairy tales
Good, bad and pretty

This precious ado
That never quite turns vintage
Cuz there's a n00b born

Ev'ry frag minute
Ready to behold the truth
None of this is real

What ever that is
And yet we're so good at it
That would be our crime

Ask your self again:
"When does it make you feel, child?"
"Twilight!" "Good answer!"
08th February, 2020
Smells like a poof of Johnson & Johnson baby powder. I had a hard time smelling anything else from it for about an hour. I also had to look up the notes to pinpoint the coriander. It is a little coriander under a big fat floral. It is quite beautiful, and indeed has a blue twilight feel. Kind of melancholy. Powdery and soft. Performance was good. Seemed aggressively soft. Im going thumbs up here. It is not meant for me, but this fragrance is really nice. Doesnt seem all that dated to me.
04th July, 2019
One of the classic Guerlain fragrances. A powdery old world charm of a fragrances with bergamot showing up at the beginning with violets. I think the two notes seem to somewhat clash to my nose but maybe that is just me! It soon gives way to a more blendid concoction with heliotrope & other florals hanging in there. I do pick up some resins but they do not shout.

All in all, if you are looking for an intimate soft fragrance with nice longevity then give this a try. It does put me in a calm state of mind whenever I wore it. Unfortunately my taste in fragrances change frequently & I parted with my vintage EDT bottle. Would work well in autumn weather & a mature classy dame!
18th November, 2018
L'Heure Bleue (1912) is a timeless Guerlain masterpiece that has been enjoyed by generations of women, and indeed some men, for well over a century. The scent followed in the footsteps of powdery floral fougère-like compositions worn by the chaste upper classes of the late 19th and early 20th century, and was composed by Jacques Guerlain, the man who literally shaped the house note itself by building on work from his uncle Aimé Guerlain with this, then Mitsouko (1919), Guerlinade (1924), and Shalimar (1925). Outside of helping to define the reputation of house Guerlain, L'Huere Bleue (aka "The Bluish Hour" in French) was meant to be worn in early evenings at dusk, to compliment the bluish hue the sky takes, and to conjure images of gentle romance; think about that next time you smell a modern perfume just made to be "sexy" or "fresh", as the entirety of this perfume was composed to capture a very specific time of day and activity occuring at the time, almost as a task-specific evening tryste fragrance. The smell of Guerlain L'Huere Bleue was perceived as quite feminine at the time, and it's heavy heliotrope also helped further define the "baby powder" smell in coming years as perfumes of this type before it had, but time has rendered L'Heure Bleue more genderfluid than that, especially in the wake of powdery 60's fougères like Brut (1962) and Wild Country (1967) or masuline indolic flower bombs like Royal Copenhagen (1970) all challenging the femininity of the antique L'Huere Bleue by sharing similar values. That's not to say this stuff isn't still effeminate, because so are those older masculines in comparison to what exists for men in the 21st century, just that like them, the appeal of L'Heure Bleue has expanded beyond it's intended audience. Still, this scent most definitely conjures images of huge flower-adorned hats and parasols to me, and outside of the heart, there isn't a muscular bone in L'Heure Bleue's body, so do NOT go into smelling it thinking it's another Jicky (1889), as even in vintage form this scent is not really all that animalic, but rather pillowy rich thanks to older synthetic musks like musk ketone and musk ambrette.

The smell of L'Huere Bleue is familiar yet strange all at the same time in the opening salvo, as it's one lavender note short of a stereotypical fougère accord with it's bergamot, clary sage, aniseed, tarragon and lemon, which join a fruity-sweet neroli that serves as the feminization factor here. There's something of a connection between the complex floral middle in L'Heure Bleue and the masculine dandy-like chypre Habit Rouge (1965), composed by Jean-Paul Guerlain, which is where CIS men of any orientation familiar with classic Guerlain will find the most comfort and familiarity when smelling L'Heure Bleue. Rose, iris, heliotrope, ylang-ylang, jasmine and carnation all blur into a soft "foundation" smell which was doubtless pirated ad infinitum by cosmetic companies after L'Heure Bleue hit shelves. The base is where the "fougère factor" rings true again, and the biggest point of separation between this and later Habit Rouge, which definitely goes for a sharper "cypress-like" dry down. Sandalwood, tonka, musk, vetiver, oakmoss and cedar all draw similarities to stuff like Zizanie (1932) or Canoe (1936) which showed up later and were pitched to men, but benzoin and vanilla "tweak the knobs" in such a way with L'Huere Bleue that this bullet would be dodged sufficiently even in the wake of emerging masculine tropes that heavily abused the emerging "barbershop" accord found in part under L'Huere Bleue's amazingly complex floral bouquet. The powdery heliotrope diffuses sillage enough that it isn't a bomb, but sustain vibrato is very long-lived with L'Huere Bleue, providing a very structured and abstinent pleasantness lasting over 12+ hours and made perfect for a meeting with a new client and a date night all in the same day. Office use is A-ok with L'Huere Bleue, and it does retain some of it's antiquated romanticism if you're going to a classy old-world joint like Maxim's of Paris or a late walk through New York City's Coney Island boardwalk.

L'Huere Bleue may be prim and proper as expected for a perfume from 1912, but it's Belle Époque origins guaranteed it free from the rigidity of social discipline that Victorian perfumes had to observe, meaning it's slightly-indolic tones and softly sweet idealized romanticism weren't quite so scandalous anymore, and they were just the beginning of a theme for Jacques Guerlain, who would steadily take his feminine creations down an increasingly assertive path until his hand-off to his grandson Jean-Paul. Wearing L'Heure Bleue is obviously like wearing a piece of history, but all that aside, wearing L'Heure Bleue is like wearing shades of everything a powdery floral perfume is known to be (even in the 21st century), but slightly blurred by the roundness of a fougère-like base and an overly-blended heart note haze, itself something of a trademark for the late perfumer, who was also known to mix entire previous perfumes into the base of new ones and continue building. L'Huere Bleue just "glows", much like the sky in the time of day after which it's named, ultimately making it an unusually relaxed, comfortable perfume to wear. Open-minded or particularly flamboyant/dandyish guys should definitely try this out, but otherwise this is still likely to appeal mostly to folks who identify as female or feminine-leaning, which is fine. Fans of vintage perfumes won't really care where this sits along the spectrum and ostensibly modern folks might see poor L'Huere Bleue as too "Grandma's Boudoir" for their liking anyway, so being able to enjoy this goes hand-in-hand with enjoying the art, music, fashion, frivolity, and indeed the flavor of the Belle Époque itself. For everyone else, this is likely too dainty and irrelevant of an old girl to hang in the company of modern "fruitchouli" and "cashmeran amberwood" fragrances, even if it's DNA still lingers in all of them. It's not my everyday cup of tea, but thumbs up for this beautiful piece of history.
10th October, 2018

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