1826 Eugénie de Montijo
Histoires de Parfums (2001)

I've sampled 1826 several times, mystified as to why I forget about it after it's been on my skin for 15 minutes, and why the fragrance itself barely registers in my memory.
It's pleasant enough I can say I like it, but beyond that it is like the Invisible Woman. Either I don't have the correct fragrance receptors to really appreciate it, or it is a ghost fragrance.

Histoires de Parfums 1826 Eugénie de Montijo (2001) is an early effort from the house that alongside entries like 1828 Jules Verne (2001), seems to only halfway convince us of belonging to its source historical inspiration. Also like 1828 Jules Verne, 1826 Eugénie de Montijo does this thing where it dabbles in "vintage" style accords but uses thoroughly modern finishing notes (at least for 2001), making it feel something like a bait and switch with the way it opens classically, then dries down to something a tad insipid at the price. The big noise about this one, besides being inspired by the first and only empress of the French Second Empire, is the way it often gets described by people who experience it as smelling like dusty old books. This latter feat is unintentional, and years before Bibliothèque by Byredo (2017) came around to actually attempt it in earnest, but it's something that a sampler comes to look forward to when hearing about the stuff. I'm not the biggest fan of Creed, but I think their odes to "l'impératrice" were done a lot better in regards to feeling like they belonged in that era than this fragrance does.

I guess it's with somewhat heavy heart then that I spoils the surprise and say this does not really smell like a musty old book, which for me is a good thing because I don't think I'd find pleasure in that. Additionally, I didn't think Bibliothèque smelled much like a library either, so there's that. The opening here is fruity citrus and white florals, with bergamot and sweet tangerine mixing with jasmine hedione, anise, and muguet. This floral anises segment is rather brief though, as the sweet cinnamon and ginger of the heart takes over and neutralizes all the floral freshness and zing of the top. When I say neutralize, I literally mean it kills the projection too, and you soon wonder if you applied enough of the fragrance. Only once a sweet benzoin patchouli and dusty vanilla come in do you realize you're wearing perfume, but like with the heart, cashmeran musk and a woody-amber of some sort smash into the sweet dustiness of the vanilla and patchouli to make it vanish. Wear time is barely six hours, and performance comes in fits and starts, so it doesn't fare well either. Smells nice when you can smell it though, and feels unisex throughout.

1826 Eugénie de Montijo doesn't really have any of the fashion-forward aristocratic flair of the historic Doña María Eugenia Ignacia Agustina de Palafox y Kirkpatrick herself, nor makes you stop and take a breath when you notice it, and that's part of the problem. To me, this is a perfume seemingly composed by someone with social anxiety, and as someone who suffers from it myself, the fragrance to me exhibits the same self-defeating traits: it self-silences instead of self-moderates with an overcompensating sense of self-awareness that makes an attempt at decorum turn into paralyzing inaction. The perfume equivalent of unnecessarily walking on eggshells out of fear of being untoward is not evocative of anything, including old books. Combine this wishy-washy performance with a lack of any chypre meat and potatoes (no oakmoss, no sandalwood, no labdanum synthetic or otherwise), and 1826 just feels interesting but unfinished, like an abandoned memoir on Eugénie de Montijo found in said library; I don't think this is what Histoires de Parfums had in mind, but that's what they're selling here. Neutral

Hairspray aroma. Flowers, dipped in spice. Not very heavy, even with eight sprays... Flowers and spice fade. I'm left with a mellow, barely there base. It started out great but, ended with a disappointing sigh.

A soft absinthe-y anise note dominates this slightly musty fragrance. As others have noted, there's an interesting "old books" vibe. There's also something in here vaguely reminiscent of Play-Doh. Nothing about it is unpleasant and it's decidedly unisex, but it's an acquired taste, to be sure.

I would have guessed the notes for this included iris and leather, which they do not. Searching my memory and re-reading previous sampling notes, I think this effect is from the bergamot, white flowers (typically jasmine), and patchouli combination. It's a combination I like.

I think this would fit right in with my collection. It smells plenty masculine, despite the marketing. It has some vintage quality to the smell, which I think is still possible with good floral concentrates.

You're in the heart of the Canadian wilderness in 1756, digging with your bare hands for snakeroot (ginger). It's August, and instead of marching with your brothers on Fort Oswego to push back the British, you're frantically trying to save your best friend who was just bitten by a snake. You enlist the help of an Iroquois ally, and before long, you're all indoors and participating in a wild healing ritual dominated by potent ginger oils, powdered herbs, and sweet smoke. 1826 by Histoires de Parfums.