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.

Typical lotus-type formulas of the period included a base of patchouli, benzoin, and storax—resins that contributed depth, warmth, and a hint of incense-like richness. These were paired with floral elements such as rose and jasmine to maintain femininity, and then enhanced with emerging synthetic molecules that were transforming perfumery at the time. Phenylacetaldehyde added a green, hyacinth-like sharpness; phenylethyl alcohol contributed a soft rosy facet; cinnamic alcohol brought a sweet, spicy warmth; linalool added a delicate floral freshness; methyl anthranilate gave a grapey, orange blossom-like sweetness; and coumarin, with its hay-like, almondy softness, provided a powdery finish. Together, these materials created an impression of something that never truly existed in nature—a dreamy, stylized scent of the lotus as imagined through Western lenses.

In the context of perfumery at the time, Bleu de Chine was both on-trend and distinctive. Oriental floral perfumes were in vogue, particularly after the blockbuster success of Guerlain’s Shalimar in 1921, and houses were racing to produce scents that blended the feminine with the sensual. But Isabey’s take was more poetic, leaning into an ethereal interpretation of exoticism. The fantasy of Bleu de Chine would have appealed to women of the 1920s who were captivated by the romance of faraway lands and the allure of modern femininity. It offered them not just a perfume, but a dream—a cool blue veil of scent that conjured visions of moonlit rivers, trembling lotus petals, and silk sleeves brushing against porcelain.

Bleu de Chine may not have been the only fragrance of its kind, but its concept, name, and composition captured a unique intersection of fashion, fantasy, and innovation. It stands as a reflection of a time when perfume became not just a luxury, but a storytelling medium—conjuring whole worlds with a single breath. Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Bleu de Chine by Isabey is classified as a floral oriental fragrance for women. Described as "rich with the essence of the lotus flower fragrance as it blooms in waxen beauty in Oriental rivers, its blossoms quivering in the dawn." "Bleu de Chine seems to have a curious subtle note of fresh fruits mingled with its flowers and Oriental spiciness."

• Top notes: phenyl acetalaldehyde, phenyl ethyl alcohol, cinnamic alcohol, linalool
• Middle notes: Grasse rose, Egyptian jasmine, Madagascar ylang ylang, methyl anthranilate, Portuguese tuberose absolute, Swiss lily, Zanzibar clove
• Base notes: Penang patchouli, Siam benzoin, Syrian storax, ambergris, Abyssinian civet, Mexican vanilla, coumarin

Scent Profile:

To inhale Bleu de Chine by Isabey is to enter a perfumed dream of the East, as imagined through the romantic lens of 1920s Paris. This floral oriental fragrance is steeped in artifice and allure—its heart is the lotus flower, not in its natural, unscented form, but recreated in full, poetic fantasy using a mélange of florals, spices, resins, and modern synthetics. The result is rich, glistening, and hauntingly exotic, like moonlight on lacquered porcelain.

The opening is green, floral, and slightly aldehydic. Phenylacetaldehyde leads with its distinctive hyacinth-like brightness—green, sharp, and dewy, immediately suggesting petals just unfurled in morning mist. It’s piercing but brief, like the first flash of light at dawn. Supporting this is phenyl ethyl alcohol, a cornerstone of rose accords, which brings a gentle, rosy warmth—soft, clean, and subtly sweet. Cinnamic alcohol adds a honeyed-spicy lift, connecting the fresh floral notes to something deeper and resinous to come. It gives off a subtle warmth, a reminder of sun on blossom. Linalool, naturally occurring in many florals but often added synthetically for its elegant transparency, imparts a soft, lavender-like brightness—floral, airy, and quietly diffusive. This quartet of aroma chemicals forms an artificial bouquet that evokes the idea of lotus in bloom—glassy, soft, and impossibly smooth.

The heart of the perfume is a sumptuous floral arrangement, plush and intensely feminine. Grasse rose, cultivated in the perfume capital of southern France, is prized for its nuanced, honeyed character. It brings body and elegance to the composition. Egyptian jasmine follows—lush, radiant, with an unmistakable animalic undertone. This jasmine, harvested by hand at night when its scent is strongest, adds a sultry warmth. Then comes Madagascar ylang ylang, the floral chameleon: creamy, slightly banana-like, almost metallic in its brightness. It adds a narcotic richness and helps to round out the sharper florals. Interwoven is methyl anthranilate, a synthetic that smells of Concord grapes and orange blossom—it injects a shimmering, juicy sweetness that feels almost childlike in its charm, offsetting the sultriness of the white florals.

Portuguese tuberose absolute stands out in this medley—potent, creamy, and ever so slightly rubbery. It’s a provocative flower, thick with indoles and often used to conjure intimacy. Grown in Portugal’s temperate climate, the tuberose here feels especially languid and buttery, binding the floral bouquet in sensuality. The Swiss lily, though not specific to a single species, evokes a cool, damp floralcy—suggesting cleanliness and purity. It balances the lushness of the jasmine and tuberose. And at the heart’s edge lies Zanzibar clove, which introduces a soft but spicy sharpness—clove's warm bite giving contour and exotic structure to the floral theme.

As the scent settles, the base reveals its luxurious, ambery depth. Penang patchouli, from Malaysia, brings a dark, earthy richness that is smoother and more refined than its Indonesian counterpart. It hums softly beneath the flowers, grounding them. Siam benzoin, a resin from Thailand, lends a balsamic sweetness, like golden syrup over warm skin. Syrian storax, deeper and smokier than other balsams, adds a leathery undertone, bringing drama and shadow. These resins together form a foundation that is velvety and resinous, glowing like the inner lacquer of an antique box.

Laced through the base is a touch of ambergris, a rare material historically sourced from ocean-aged whale secretion. Whether natural or replicated with synthetics like Ambreine, it adds a salty, musky sheen that gives the perfume lift and longevity—mimicking the subtle radiance of skin. Abyssinian civet, once derived from the civet cat but now recreated synthetically, lends a creamy, animalic warmth—softly carnal, never harsh. This sensual backdrop is sweetened with Mexican vanilla, rich and smoky, with a bourbon-like roundness, and the final touch is coumarin—one of perfumery’s earliest synthetics. It smells of freshly mown hay and almond, powdery and comforting, a dry-down that softens the weight of the resins with a gentle hand.

Together, these materials do not present the lotus flower as it truly is, but as it was imagined—a blossom of myth, floating in a blue porcelain world, at once distant and intimate. Bleu de Chine was not merely a fragrance, but a fantasy of the East made wearable. Its blend of rare naturals and inventive synthetics represents the height of early 20th-century perfumery—a time when scent sought not just to decorate, but to transport.

Bottle:

"Packed in a daisy box, the daisies painted on a box as blue as the sky, and carved on the exotic bottle [holding about 1/2 ounce of parfum]."

"1 2/3 oz bottles of Bleu de Chine in a fascinating forget-me-not bottle, gorgeous for any dressing table."

Art et Industrie, 1927:

"China is a land of legends. One never quite knows what one is about to see, where reality begins, or where the dream ends. Isabey has captured this mystery in Bleu de Chine. A cut-glass flacon rests in an original case, where an ironic—and perhaps benevolent—Buddha awaits us at the threshold of this small, luxurious temple. This Buddha is, moreover, a faithful reproduction of one of the finest Chinese porcelains of the eighteenth century and belongs to the collection of Baron Henri de Rothschild.

For all of its perfumes, Isabey has created the flacon known as “La Perle.” A link between the ancient Far East, which has long admired it, and the West, which continues to seek it, the pearl symbolizes luxury, gentleness of breath, and the pleasure of living. Isabey has always chosen felicitous names for its delicate perfumes and, to contain them, flacons of carefully conceived forms."

signed Moser Karlovy Vary.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Bleu de Chine by Isabey was eventually discontinued, though the exact date of its withdrawal from the market remains unknown. What is certain, however, is that the fragrance was still being sold as late as 1942—nearly two decades after its initial launch in 1924. Its longevity on the market speaks to its enduring appeal during a period when perfume trends evolved rapidly, and many fragrances had relatively short lifespans.

To still find Bleu de Chine available in 1942 is notable, especially given the global circumstances of the time. With World War II underway and widespread material shortages affecting everything from alcohol to packaging supplies, the continued presence of this fragrance suggests it had a loyal following or occupied a favored place in Isabey’s range. It may have persisted in limited distribution, particularly in markets like North America, where Isabey had maintained an export presence since the 1920s.

As perfumery entered the wartime era, many earlier scents faded into obscurity, replaced by more modern, practical compositions that reflected the austere mood of the time. That Bleu de Chine lingered through this transition marks it as a fragrance that perhaps carried a sense of nostalgia or offered a dreamy, luxurious escape at a time when the world was anything but serene. Its eventual discontinuation may have been a quiet one—without much fanfare—typical for many perfumes of the early 20th century whose production was ultimately curtailed by war, changing tastes, and the restructuring of perfume houses in the postwar years.

Fleur Nocturne:

Bleu de Chine by Isabey was a distinguished fragrance originally launched before its discontinuation during the 1940s. This perfume captured a unique olfactory character that reflected the elegance and refinement of its era. In 2009, Isabey chose to revive the essence of this historic scent but with a modern reinterpretation. The new version was created by the contemporary perfumer Rania Naim and reimagined as a floral chypre, a classic yet versatile fragrance family known for its sophisticated blend of citrus, florals, and oakmoss-based earthiness. However, Isabey faced a practical challenge with the name: the title Bleu de Chine had already been claimed by another perfume launched in 1987 by Marc de la Morandière. To avoid confusion and potential legal issues, Isabey renamed their new creation Fleur Nocturne.

The name Fleur Nocturne is French, translating literally to “Night Flower” in English. The word fleur (pronounced “flur,” rhyming with “blur”) means “flower,” while nocturne (pronounced “nok-turn”) means “nocturnal” or “of the night.” Together, the phrase evokes imagery of a flower that blooms or reveals its beauty in the darkness, suggesting mystery, elegance, and a deeper, more sensual allure that unfolds under the cover of night. This poetic and evocative name perfectly complements the perfume’s floral chypre character, which often balances bright, lively notes with richer, darker undertones.

By choosing Fleur Nocturne, Isabey not only respects its heritage through the floral connection hinted by the original Bleu de Chine but also signals the perfume’s evolution into something more modern and enigmatic. The name captures the spirit of an evening bloom, alluring and sophisticated, which aligns well with the refined complexity of a floral chypre composition. This thoughtful renaming allowed Isabey to honor the past while asserting a fresh identity, connecting tradition with contemporary fragrance artistry.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Fleur Nocturne by Isabey is classified as a floral chypre fragrance for women.

• Top notes: solar notes, mandarin, white peach and apricot blossom
• Middle notes: jasmine, gardenia and magnolia
• Base notes: patchouli and vanilla

Scent Profile:

Fleur Nocturne opens with a radiant burst of solar notes—those bright, warm, and slightly ozonic accords that evoke the feeling of sunlight filtered through a delicate haze. This luminous introduction is enriched by the juicy zest of mandarin, a citrus fruit traditionally harvested in Calabria, Italy. Calabrian mandarin is prized for its vibrant, sweet, and slightly tart aroma, which carries a sparkling freshness distinct from other mandarins like those from Spain or Morocco. Its natural oil is often complemented by synthetics such as citral and limonene, which amplify the fruit’s crispness and longevity while smoothing any harsh edges, making the citrus more radiant and inviting.

Alongside this citrus glow, the fragrance unfolds gentle, luscious facets of white peach and apricot blossom. The white peach note offers a soft, velvety sweetness, reminiscent of ripe fruit kissed by morning dew—its aroma often crafted synthetically to achieve a creamy yet fresh effect that natural peach alone struggles to sustain over time. Apricot blossom adds a delicate floral nuance, lighter and more ethereal than the heavier apricot fruit note. Its subtle sweetness and fresh, green facets evoke the fleeting beauty of spring, imparting a tender softness to the top accord.

At the heart of Fleur Nocturne lies a lush bouquet of white florals that embody feminine elegance and nocturnal allure. Jasmine, likely sourced from the fields of Grasse, France, fills the air with its radiant, indolic floral richness—a scent both bright and deeply sensual. Jasmine essence’s natural complexity is often enhanced with synthetic jasmine lactones, which smooth its sharpness and heighten its creamy facets, allowing it to diffuse effortlessly and glow softly in the perfume’s core. Gardenia joins this floral symphony with its intoxicating, creamy, and green floral aroma, known for its tropical opulence and velvety richness. Magnolia, with its fresh, lemony floral tones and light creaminess, balances the heaviness of jasmine and gardenia. The magnolia’s natural scent, often harvested from Chinese or American varieties, adds a sparkling clarity that lifts the bouquet, while synthetic aroma molecules refine its freshness and longevity.

As the fragrance dries down, the base reveals the deeper, earthier notes that give Fleur Nocturne its lasting sensuality and chypre character. Patchouli, traditionally sourced from Indonesia or the Philippines, imparts a warm, woody, and slightly spicy earthiness. Indonesian patchouli is especially valued for its richness and smoothness, which distinguishes it from other varieties that can be more camphoraceous or harsh. Patchouli’s natural complexity is frequently supported by synthetic molecules that soften its intensity and highlight its sweeter, balsamic facets, ensuring it blends harmoniously rather than overwhelming the composition.

Complementing the patchouli is the sweet, creamy warmth of vanilla, likely Madagascar Bourbon vanilla, renowned worldwide for its rich, buttery aroma with subtle smoky undertones. The vanilla anchors the fragrance’s base, lending a comforting softness that balances the earthiness of patchouli. Synthetic vanillin and ethyl vanillin often enhance this natural note, boosting its sweetness and longevity without tipping into cloying territory, allowing the vanilla to glow gently beneath the florals.

Together, these ingredients compose Fleur Nocturne as a floral chypre that is both radiant and mysterious. The bright, juicy top notes evoke daylight and freshness, while the sumptuous florals at the heart suggest an unfolding night garden in bloom. Finally, the warm, resinous base lends a sensual grounding, embodying the perfume’s name—“Night Flower”—with an elegant balance of light and shadow, natural richness, and subtle synthetic enhancement that creates a lasting, evocative trail.

Bottles:

The 2009 version of the perfume was originally contained in a blue cylindrical flacon. The fragrance was available as a 50 ml Eau de Parfum. It was housed in a blue presentation box with a drop front.

In 2017, the bottle for Fleur Nocturne Eau de Parfum was given an update, by combining modern design with a 1920s Isabey bottle originally produced by Czech master glass craftsman, Ludwig Moser. You can purchase the 50ml flacon directly from Parfums Isabey's website. A 10ml travel flacon of the eau de parfum was also released which is great for carrying in your handbag.

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.