Chantilly
Eau de Parfum, Dana (1941)

I love Chantilly- feminine, romantic, beautiful. It reminds me of a tea party, an charmlng Victorian house party with family and friends, taking a walk in the streets of a small English village, spending the afternoon in an old-fashioned library with thousands of books, a day spent in an Old English museum...

It will always be one of my favourite perfumes, as I have wonderful childhood memories of it- first with the aroma being dainty and sweet on my older sister, then having it myself a few years later. It's our special sisters perfume, because we both adore it.

Chantilly is such an exquisite perfume. It is a most challenging vintage buy, though: One must truly be educated on the subject before attempting to acquire it, and only a very select few are able to deliver that education. I got mine from a bonnefied "Little Old Lady" for whom I have the utmost respect: She showed me how to recognize which bottles of Chantilly are the good ones, and which are the ones to avoid: Further, she unveiled secret details that are uncanny, so very subtle, though always delivering. The strangest little odd somethings. The most unexpected, eccentric details: These announce the doors into the rooms where you find The Real Chantilly. Subtle details and elements displayed on other doors illustrate the ones not to open, because behind them is an unkempt, poorly lit dressing room where you find a right watery mess fit only for the rubbish bin: It is true. Before "going in" on a Chantilly vintage buy, one must know and understand all of the details that distinguish the divine from the extreme outright common. Equipped with my private education, over the years, I have amassed quite the collection of Chantilly. The bottles I cherish the most seem to come from the 1970's. Earlier ones are often turned, and later ones, they are just not Chantilly--they are, if I must define them, a kind of linen spray inspired by Chantilly. There is a "Made in France" element there, too, to watch out for, and a very subtle "Blended in the US of imported essence." All of these are clues, yet none alone will deliver you the Chantilly that made Chantilly one of the most cherished perfumes of all history. It is a complicated maze to get to the heart of a perfume that no other has succeeded in copying. The one with that fizzy, fruity, effervescent opening. The splash that evokes peeling a clementine, or popping the cap off a carbonated, fruity drink on a hot Summer day: This effect, however it was achieved, has never been replicated. Then, the slow, slow burn that deposits you into a wonderland, all crystal chandeliers and sandalwood panelling. Chantilly is not Chantilly for nothing: We have here an extraordinary fragrance, so much so that it was fought over. That is why we have so many variants and "periods." Paul Parquet "won" it for a time. And to make matters even more complicated, some of the very best versions have no label at all, save for a very discreet gold sticker on their base that indicates "Parfums Parquet, Paris" In the fight, Dana finally got hold of it, and like they do with so many other fragrance legends, they poured water and nothingness all over it, putting out its sparkling suites of crystal chandeliers in eternity mirrors and turning its rich, intoxicating wood to plastic. We saw a similar end to "Je Reviens," when it turned from that singular blue hallucinogenic madness into a sea spray of still water that only reminded one of the ghostly essence, then, just like a fleeting, blinky vision, promptly disappears. Chantilly's bitter end happened that way, and it happened with Dana. Oh, but before...and during many years, there is a treasure to be found, if you have the keys and know which holes to put them in, which are the right locks. A treasure that equals any other great perfume in history you will find inside. A perfume that speaks a volume very close to Shalimar, and presents a pedigree equal to Eméraude, Chantilly delivers a dose of enchantment that stands up to anything. One of the best bed perfumes in history. Those who know, know. Womanly, yes. But a certain kind of man can absolutely indulge. The French say, "Les anges n'ont pas de sexe" and it's true. Did you know that angels have no gender? In truth, neither does Chantilly. Chantilly did not make its name off of of etherial lingerie, angel wings, and warm caresses for nothing. It indeed offers the wearer all of these things, and more. Men beware of the object of desire wearing this. Women beware of the object of desire wearing this. Non-binary Beings beware of the object of desire wearing this. Pink and frilly though it may be, if you get the right vintage, no one can resist: It is exactly as described in that one episode of "Bewitched," when the formidable Endora proclaims "My perfume is irresistible," then demonstrates how everyone, including the postman, falls prey to it. This must have been one of the right vintages of Chantilly. But, good luck be unto you in finding it. Welcome to The Maze.

I was hoping for something creamy, per the name, "whipped cream," but it is a little more like loose powder for me... I'm reviewing a vintage EDT bottle ($14) with an adorable thin pink ribbon around the neck of the cream-colored bottle cap, and a label very clearly marked "Houbigant" under "Chantilly" in pink cursive--so it is not Dana, but the real thing worn by the grandmothers of yesteryear. It is also in that fascinating category of classic vintage "drugstore" perfumes. Having worn Mitsouko yesterday, I just have to speak up and say that although this is a pleasant and nostalgic scent, baby powdery and a little spicy, with just a shadow of pleasant soap--but it is no Mitsouko. When I first applied it, I thought I detected a little camphor or eucalyptus, and perhaps a smidgen of clove--or it could be the benzoin--along with the citrus and buttery orris. The sandalwood and vanilla are just a bit creamy. It gets sweeter and milder, with a bit of lovely vanilla-orange, but also fainter, after an hour. Very nice, but having recently gotten Rochas Femme and Le Galion Bourrasque, this can't make it into the top category for me. I admit though that it is significantly smoother and more organic smelling than Je Reviens. I would happily wear it on occasion, but I won't be writing home about it, unlike my vintage Houbigant Le Temps des lilas parfum, which is sensational. I would also apply it very liberally, and then wait to go out, so that the orange oil would have time to emerge. (In fact, when I applied a second layer a couple hours in, for the first time I actually did get a hint of Mitsouko chypre.) The great reviews in this thread did make me ponder what my grandmother smelled like--but I mostly remember the smell of her old house...

There is a lot to say about Chantilly by Houbigant (1941), and more commonly-known now as being by Dana; but before we dig into any of it, we should make mention of the obvious. Like a lot of classic Avon or Coty fragrances for women, Chantilly carries the stigma of being cheap and for old ladies. Well, I guess that is inarguable to a degree, because Chantilly is primarily found in big box retailers like Wal-Mart and used mostly by people who are halfway to 100 or older, unless one has a particular affinity for the golden oldies. Even then, most people seek out Guerlain, Caron, Patou, Lauder, Lanvin, or classic Chanels for that particular fix if big-boned fragrances for women are what they want. Houbigant and by extension of it, fragrances like Chantilly, get left out in the cold either because they're too rare for having been discontinued for far too long (like a lot of classic D'Orsay perfumes), or sent into downmarket Hell when Houbigant imploded and sold off a bunch of their catalog. It doesn't take too much of a guess if you're familiar with vintage brands and their tendency to die, only to resurrect like the Phoenix when a nostalgic rich person comes along (this saved Caron recently), you'll know Houbigant has been happily back at the niche level where it once sat hundreds of years ago. Chantilly however, one of the brand's biggest fragrances from the 20th century, has not fared anywhere near close to as well. 1941 is the year of the original release, and being that Europe was embroiled in World War II, we're lucky this came out a all. Especially since Germany was clearly gunning for France and eventually occupied them, it's flabbergasting to ponder how anyone could sit around and compose perfume literally under the gun. Gabrielle Chanel was off playing smoochy-smoochy with Nazis to keep her business alive, and to attempt wresting it from the Wertheimers, so go figure.

Marcel MIllot is credited with making this perfume, which is part of the "lot to talk about" I mentioned at the beginning. He is a virtual unknown to the world of perfumery, despite having been a key collaborator on several important perfumes of the era, like Amour Amour by Jean Patou (1925), which is credited solely to Henri Alméras. Millot also bares no relation to the house of F MIllot founded by Felix Millot and famously perfumed for by Jean Desprez for a time. Marcel Millot in an article written in 1966 for American Perfumer and Cosmetics, talks about his involvement with Chantilly being a collaborative one as well, implying most perfumes made in the labs he worked during that period were typically not purely solo efforts. In any case, whoever the unknown co-contributors to Chantilly are, they helped give Millot his sole perfume credit. As for the fragrance itself, Chantilly is fairly typical for the time, being a mash-up of chypre elements and oriental elements, a compromise between Chypre de Coty (1917), Chanel No. 5 (1921), and Guerlain Shalimar (1925) as it were. This kitchen sink of notes opens with aldehydes, because of course it does, and then moves through sweet citruses of orange, lemon, and neroli, before moving to indolic florals. The rose and jasmin bring their virility, which is flanked by a fat carnation note and given a slight soapy edge of orris. The powdery resinous base of benzoin, vanilla, and tonka is boosted by a Mousse de Saxe leather note full of oakmoss and warmed with sandalwood. The leather here isn't butch per se, but it adds a unique punch. In it's original form, Chantilly was very expense, and rather expensive-smelling too, but a softer and more-glowing counterpart to aforementioned women's classics. Wear time and projection vary by vintage, but there isn't a weak formula of this anywhere, just strong and stronger. Best use is probably in colder months. Either way, you're going to smell like a madam, and you know what kind I mean.

My mom wore Chantilly when she wasn't wearing Chanel No. 5, her other "big expensive" perfume at the time. When Houbigant went pop and New Renaissance Cosmetics picked this up in a fire sale alongside Raffinée (1982), Lutèce (1984), and Demi-Jour (1988), they were all tossed onto market under New Dana Parfums alongside Monsieur Musk (1972), unchanged at first but much cheaper. Obviously, my mom like many others went nuts over this and started using Chantilly a lot more, even more than her Avons, because now she could replace it for pennies at the local Rite-Aid when it ran out. I remember her having face powder, cream lotions and everything, to the point where she reeked of Chantilly and I had to slow her roll a bit or risk fumigation. Sadly, once New Dana became Dana Classic, and manufacturing went in-house (up in New Jersey somewhere), this got reformulated to oblivion for cost. Lutèce, Raffinée, and Demi-Jour were dropped altogether, although the first two would find a new brief lease on life in some form under Prism Parfums. Meanwhile, all that goodness in the old Chantilly was gutted out, even if the new cheapo bottles still smell tolerably pleasant. I actually compare Coty Stetson (1981) to a masculine interpretation of this fragrance, as it too is a semi-oriental floral leather chypre mish-mash with vanilla, carnation, and benzoin. Smell them side-by-side (vintage in both cases) and see what I mean. As for my mom, she knows her beloved Chantilly is a pale impression of what it once was, but I think she's just casual enough of a fan to be happy with that impression all these years later. Most people seem to be, hence Dana keeps it rather than letting Houbigant have it back. Still, a proper loving reconstruction a la how Houbigant treated Fougère Royale (1882) would make this old gal glorious once more. Thumbs up

I recall buying this perfume for my mom several decades ago.

Chantilly is a warm, sweet and spicy floral fragrance that wasn't loud and had a nice, lingering ambery finish.

I don't know if what I gave her in the mid-1980's was the reformulated Dana version or not. Whatever it was, I happened to find it to smell really friendly and exude a laid-back charm to it.

I have the eau de toilette version of Chantilly by Dana. It smells similar to Shalimar but softer. Chantilly smells warm with a spicy powdery aroma. It also has a hint of vanilla with leather in the dry down. I haven't tried the vintage, but Dana's version is very good. The bottle I bought said, "New Look, Same Scent." I still think there was a reformulation, and it's for the better. I paid $25.00 dollars for a 2.0 ounce bottle, which is about $10.00 dollars more than it use to cost. The bottle is cheap looking, but the new version of Chantilly has better longevity. The sillage is rather intimate, but I think I like that in a fragrance. I highly recommend Chantilly. It's an affordable classic.