Le Lys Noir by Isabey c1924

Le Lys Noir by Isabey was launched in 1924—a moment when perfumery, fashion, and art were undergoing dramatic transformation in the wake of World War I. The name Le Lys Noir is French and translates to "The Black Lily" in English. Pronounced “luh leess nwahr,” the title evokes intrigue, opulence, and mystery. While the lily is a flower long associated with purity and divinity, the addition of the word noir—black—adds an unexpected and alluring contrast. It conjures images of dark elegance, nocturnal gardens, velvet gowns, and the alluring danger of forbidden desire. In the 1920s, when modernity collided with decadence, a name like Le Lys Noir would have resonated deeply with women eager to embrace a new era of expression and sophistication.

The 1920s—often referred to as Les Années Folles or “the crazy years” in France—were marked by social upheaval, artistic experimentation, and a reinvention of the feminine identity. Women had just emerged from wartime austerity and were eager to redefine themselves. Hemlines rose, corsets disappeared, and personal expression—through makeup, fashion, and fragrance—became central to modern life. The lily had long been popular in perfumery, a staple in Victorian and Edwardian scents where it symbolized innocence and spiritual elevation. But in this new world, Isabey reimagined the lily with a bold twist. By naming it Le Lys Noir, the house gave the traditional floral a dramatic makeover, making it bolder, sexier, and more mysterious—perfectly suited for the modern woman of the Jazz Age.

Lilies, while breathtaking in nature, do not yield essential oil in a conventional manner. True lily essence is extremely difficult to extract, and what is used in perfumery is typically a blend of synthetic molecules designed to capture its creamy, pollen-dusted aroma. These may include compounds such as hydroxycitronellal, lily aldehydes, and specific floral aroma chemicals like linalool and Iralia. In Le Lys Noir, the lily accord would have been interpreted using a combination of these synthetics alongside natural materials to create a layered, textural effect. Linalool, for instance, imparts a fresh floral brightness; Iralia brings a soft violet-like nuance with powdery overtones; while eugenol adds a spicy carnation clove-like edge.

Prends Mois by Isabey c1943

Prends Mois, launched by Isabey in 1943, is a perfume shrouded in linguistic curiosity and wartime allure. Its label displays an unusual spelling—“Prends-Mois”—which immediately draws attention. In standard French, “Prends-moi” translates to “take me,” a phrase loaded with emotional, romantic, and possibly provocative implications. However, Isabey’s version substitutes moi with mois, the plural word for “months.” Literally, prends-mois means “take months”—a phrase that holds no direct meaning in French, and would not be used in any grammatical or idiomatic context. Pronounced, it would sound like “prahn mwah,” with the “s” in mois remaining silent.

Why might Isabey have chosen this altered spelling? The likely reason is a legal one. In 1930, the house of De Raymond had already registered and released a perfume under the name Prends-Moi. To avoid infringement, Isabey may have intentionally altered the spelling to create a visually and legally distinct product—Prends-Mois. Despite its technical inaccuracy, the name remains phonetically identical to Prends-moi, and thus carries all the sensual connotations of the original phrase. It suggests invitation, vulnerability, and surrender—an expression of intimacy that, in the world of perfume, speaks directly to the wearer’s skin and allure.

Launched during 1943, Prends Mois emerged in the midst of World War II, a time when much of Europe was under strain—economically, politically, and emotionally. France, under German occupation, was a country navigating hardship and censorship, yet also yearning for beauty, escapism, and expression. This moment in history is often referred to as the “Occupation years,” and in Paris, despite rationing and restrictions, fashion and fragrance remained poignant acts of resistance and self-definition. Haute couture continued, albeit in subdued form, and perfumers adapted with creativity, using available materials to conjure beauty amidst bleakness.

Bleu de Chine by Isabey c1924

Launched in 1924, Bleu de Chine by Isabey emerged during a time of intense fascination with the exotic and the mysterious—particularly with the Orient, as it was romantically imagined by the West. The name Bleu de Chine is French, pronounced roughly as “bluh duh sheen,” and it translates to “China Blue.” This phrase evokes not just a color, but an entire visual and emotional world: the pale cobalt glaze of antique Chinese porcelain, the shimmering silks of imperial robes, and the misty blue hues of lotus-filled rivers at dawn. Isabey’s choice of name was deeply in line with the era’s aesthetic tendencies—specifically, a fascination with East Asian art, design, and symbolism that was reaching a fever pitch in the wake of colonial expositions and the rise of chinoiserie in fashion and interiors.

The 1920s—particularly in Paris—were a time of radical cultural transformation. The First World War had ended just a few years earlier, and society was embracing modernity with open arms. Known as Les Années Folles (“The Crazy Years”), this period saw a flourishing of the arts, a revolution in women’s fashion, and the birth of modern perfumery. Women were casting off corsets, cutting their hair into bobs, and asserting new independence through work, leisure, and self-presentation. In fragrance, this translated into bold new scents that defied the dainty florals of the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Oriental fragrances—those that combined floral notes with exotic resins, spices, and sensual warmth—became the epitome of modern sophistication.

Bleu de Chine, classified as a floral oriental fragrance, perfectly captured that moment. It was said to be “rich with the essence of the lotus flower fragrance as it blooms in waxen beauty in Oriental rivers, its blossoms quivering in the dawn.” The lotus, sacred in Chinese and other Eastern cultures, symbolized purity, enlightenment, and rebirth. But in perfumery, the lotus was more of a fantasy than a botanical reality. There is no true essential oil or absolute derived from the sacred lotus (Nelumbo nucifera) that could be used in commercial fragrance. Instead, perfumers of the era crafted “lotus” accords through a blend of naturals and synthetics to evoke its imagined scent.

Le Gardenia by Isabey c1926

Gardenia by Isabey: launched in 1926. The perfume was created by Jean Jacques.

Le Parfum de Sacha Guitry by Isabey c1929

Le Parfum de Sacha Guitry by Isabey was launched in 1929, a tribute to one of France’s most celebrated men of letters. The name translates from French to “The Perfume of Sacha Guitry” (pronounced: luh par-FAHN duh sah-shah gwee-TREE). At first glance, it reads like a celebrity endorsement—but in this case, it was something more intimate and nuanced. Isabey crafted this fragrance specifically for Sacha Guitry, the renowned actor, playwright, and bon vivant who had become a towering figure in French cultural life. Its creation paralleled the release of Le Parfum d’Yvonne Printemps, dedicated to his muse, partner, and frequent stage co-star, further emphasizing the romantic and artistic interplay between the two figures. Together, the fragrances formed a fragrant dialogue—his and hers—capturing the essence of their public and private personas.

Choosing to name a perfume after Guitry in 1929 was a calculated and inspired move. It lent the fragrance immediate intellectual glamour. Guitry was not only a theater star but a writer of sharp wit and insight, often compared to Oscar Wilde. He was known for his charm, romantic entanglements, and piercing commentary on women, love, and life. His now-famous quote, “Two things make women unforgettable, their tears and their perfume,” perfectly captures the emotional weight fragrance carried in his worldview. In fact, Vanity Fair captured the cultural curiosity around him in 1931 when it slyly asked: “Is Sacha Guitry a perfume or an actor or a playwright or all three?” The answer, of course, was yes. He had become a myth, and the perfume helped cement that myth in olfactory form.

The late 1920s—especially 1929—was a turning point. The Roaring Twenties were coming to a close, and the world was on the cusp of dramatic change with the Wall Street crash that autumn. In France, however, the Années folles (the “crazy years”) were still in full swing. It was an era of Art Deco elegance, cinematic innovation, avant-garde experimentation, and artistic collaborations across fashion, design, and scent. Perfume was deeply intertwined with personal identity and fantasy. A fragrance named after Sacha Guitry would not be aimed at those desiring a light floral or powdery number—it would speak to sophistication, wit, intrigue, and the Parisian stage.

Fleur Nocturne by Isabey c2009

Fleur Nocturne by Isabey was launched in 2009. This is a modern version created by Rania Naim of the 1925 Isabey perfume Bleu de Chine originally created by perfumer Jean Jacques.

Tendres Nuits by Isabey c1944

Tendres Nuits by Isabey, launched in 1944, emerged at a moment of immense upheaval and quiet resilience. The name itself—Tendres Nuits, pronounced “Tahn-druh nwee” in French—translates to “Tender Nights” in English. The phrase evokes a world softened by moonlight and mystery, the hush of intimacy after the chaos of the day, and the wistful yearning for peace in a time when peace felt painfully out of reach. The name alone suggests a perfume designed not only to be worn, but to be felt—something delicate, comforting, and perhaps just a little seductive.

The timing of its release is remarkable. France in 1944 was still gripped by the final years of World War II. Rationing was a daily reality, luxuries were rare, and yet perfumery persisted—both as a form of defiance and as a means of psychological escape. Fashion during this era leaned toward utility and simplicity, shaped by shortages and practicality. Yet, under that surface austerity, femininity sought expression. Perfume remained one of the few accessible indulgences, offering women a private glamour, a scented armor against the harshness of wartime life.

To name a perfume Tendres Nuits during such a time was a poetic gesture. It offered not only an escape but a dream—of softness, love, memory, and hope. Women of the 1940s would have interpreted this name as deeply romantic, perhaps nostalgic for a pre-war elegance or longing for tender moments in uncertain times. The “nights” it referenced may have conjured memories of candlelit dances, whispered conversations, or long-awaited reunions, whether real or imagined.