Reviews of L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum by Guerlain

I can see how this has it's own mystique, but I actually dislike wearing this personally. It's quite a lot to digest at once, and it's very likely that I need to revisit it at a future time. Still, it's evocative and beautiful for that.

Immediately I get the vanilla with this, which is interesting, because it doesn't wait until the drydown to reveal itself. It also has the tone of *aged* tonka (I have a tonka bean from a friend in a jar, and it almost smells like alcohol). It's also dusty in tone, verging on stale.

Everything is so blended, soapy, and smooth, that it feels...environmental. I really can see how people claim this is pensive. I sometomes struggle with carnation in perfume (I love them in a vase). The carnations in here are wilting. The blooms are dry, but the stems are still seeping in old water. Yes, it's actually melancholic.

This fragrance makes me a little sad, but instead of blueness, I get deep maroon, brown, waning daylight and abandoned spaces. Liminality - a space that should be occupied, but is now vacated.

I quite honestly cannot rate this appropriately one way or the other. I like it, and dislike it. It's unsettling, but fascinating. It's otherworldly, but somehow...earthy.

Comparison of new batches of L’Heure Bleue Extrait, EdP, and EdT.

This enthusiastic vintage hunter curiously doesn’t own a vintage L’Heure Bleue, an oversight I hope to correct in the near future with a bit of good luck (and quite a bit of cash). This legend is coveted for good reason. Fortunately, I haven’t found a critical need to chase after one since Guerlain has kept LHB in solid shape. Gratitude and commendations to them and Thierry Wasser for that. There are some differences to the vintages, of course, and there should be, but LHB’s DNA and identity are firmly intact in new formulations. The biggest differences between the new and the old is the precision of the floral heart, which is clearer and sharper in new formulations, and the vintages are more generous with animal musks lending them to a sweeter and more civety feel in the dry downs.

Sticking strictly to the new formulations, here are the key differences between them. The first, no surprise, is the speed with which they progress. The EdT being the fastest, it reaches its dry down in a couple of hours - which is quite a bit faster by at least a couple of hours compared to vintage EdTs. It’s cheap, so don’t worry about it; lather yourself in it and you’ll get an on-par experience for today’s EdTs. The EdP is the second fastest, reaching its dry down in about four hours. This is on par with vintage EdPs and what you should expect from today’s EdPs. Finally, the extrait is the slowest, reaching its dry down in about 8 hours. This is definitely quicker than vintages, which took about ten, but it is on par with today’s extraits. Notably though, the top notes of the extrait dispense very quickly, within an hour; this is unusually quick for an extrait of any period.

While we’re on the subject of top notes, there lies the most perceptible difference between the three new formats. The EdT is mostly bitter and sour bergamot, with a fleck of anise. The EdP gives the same bitter and sour bergamot but better rounded and cooled off by tarragon, sage, touches of coriander, and the citrusy floral of orange blossom. The extrait is the most bracing of the three. The sour and bitter bergamot is virtually the same but the anise note is turned way up. This makes the extrait stand out quite a bit from the other two as darker, spicier, and woodier. This experience aligns, I believe, with vintage versions I have tried and are recalling to memory, but that is likely irrelevant since the age of vintage versions will mean most of those top notes have died off to some degree.

In the heart they are virtually the same, and smell like LHB has done for a very long time. The quietly beating heart of LHB is what makes this perfume so special. Red and fleshy roses; creamy and spicy carnations; powdery and dry orris and violets; benzoin of the base and the carnation harmonizing to a quiet note of cinnamon like a thread running through the perfume. The EdT’s heart is more monodimensional than the extrait’s or the EdP’s, opting for more of the creamy and spicy carnations and a white floral amalgam in comparison to the extrait’s and EdP’s less abstract and more dynamic presentations. Very good nonetheless. The extrait pushes a bit more jasmine to the front than the other two. Every time I smell LHB’s heart I get vivid images of a bouquet in a very old and dusty home that has seen more than its fair share woeful tales. The heart is eerily quiet and dark, but yet gentle and affectionately soft at the same time.

Near the end of the day, the EdT is long gone from my skin, having moved to a skin scent of earthy tonka, sweet and woody benzoin, and powdery orris many hours ago. Simple and very pleasant. The EdP just tucked in about a couple hours ago, having gone in quite a different direction. Creamy sandalwood, peppery cedar, sweet benzoin, and a good dose of green vetiver. The extrait is finally at its skin scent, with its base comfortably between the two, most notably with an absence of green vetiver, opting for more warm woods and orris. Though the extrait and the EdP are a bit different in their dry downs, they have enough in common to be called the same, and for me this dry down is one of the best in perfume history. It’s gorgeous.

So there you have it, new LHB in a nutshell, quick and dirty. Which one you prefer is entirely up to your tastes and need for practicality. All three are wearable any time and any place, even the extrait - though bigger, louder, and richer, it is never too much for any particular setting. However, practically, it’s likely cost prohibitive for the vast majority of us. Your choice, and there’s no better or worse choice. It’s L’Heure Bleue after all, one of the best of all time.

L'Heure Bleue is more than one hundred years old! Created by Jacques Guerlain in 1912
this wonderful scent has lost none of its magic. Though doubtless tweaked to conform
to modern industry standards, its soft, flowery warmth is the very essence of femininity.
The top and middle notes of neroli, carnation and (unobtrusive) iris hover over a subtle
foundation of vanilla, which knits the whole together into an entirely coherent whole.
Tired of Shalimar (and it can be more than a little tiresome!)? Give this a go and melt
into the timeless enchantment of a blissfully romantic warm summer evening.

Simply gorgeous.

The current "Legendaires" EdP gets a 9/10 from me. A striking blue-flower combination lingers (iris, heliotrope, violet). It is perhaps more flower-forward than the vintage versions I've experienced, but it is a winner. The dry-down is more complex than the straight-up Guerlinade endings of other Guerlains.

I myself find the floral heart too focused for my own usage, but my partner loves it, and I love smelling it on him. Bravo Thierry Wasser.

Vintage L’Heure Bleue was a 3D perfume, the actual eau de parfum is 2D at the most.
It smells good, but what made L’HB so striking and unique is gone : the contrast between head and base, the complexity and depth, all sadly flattened.
And by vintage I mean 15 years back, it was probably even better in the 90’s and earlier.

According to the batch code on the new bottle I just got of LHB, it was made in January 2022, and is from Guerlain's Les Légendaires collection. I loved LHB until the IFRA forced Guerlain to massacre it ~ and just about every other perfume I wore. Whenever I wore it, I had this overwhelming, but beautiful feeling of melancholia. Sadly, all I got from this current version is powdery smelling licorice. Well, I can cross another perfume off my list of favorites thanks to the IFRA!

And you can send me dead flowers every morning

Send me dead flowers by the mail

Send me dead flowers to my wedding

This scent is all about the evocative powers of dead flowers...to me!

In my possession is a 2002 batch (MEQXR) and from the very opening, it is everything I hoped to experience and more (I can only imagine the beauty of a well-preserved older vintage).

There's a radiant kaleidescope of cherry-pie-play-doh heliotrope, anisaldehyde-heavy aniseed, parma violets, spicy carnation, and cool and watery iris. Its a confluence of several favorite notes, and it is utterly BLISSFUL.

It smells of crepuscule, bittersweet and uncertain, but of a profound beauty. As time passes, it becomes more impressionistic, almost phantasmagorical, as if it follows into the night, unabated but mutating into woods, benzoin, and vanilla. Hours pass, and the legendary Guerlainade base remains, eventually whispering.

One of the few fragrances that is profoundly personal. I wear this at night, mostly for myself or for meaningful company. I don't think the world that is ageist and obsessed with what's de rigueur can really understand L'Heure Bleue, so why cast pearls before swine?

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.

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!"

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.

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!

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.

Heavy powdery drydown similar to Creed Royal English Leather and Bal a Versailles. It overpowers and wears me rather than the other way round.

I've been wearing samples of L'Heure Bleue edp from various years, and really enjoying it. I get a strong association with nag champa incense sticks, which is the note giving the fragrance so much heft, power, and longevity. It's a note that starts out almost too strong in a way that makes it transporting and memorable, and as it develops, it becomes softer, friendlier, and more irresistible.

How gorgeous! The bergamot in the opening made me think of Shalimar, but then it went similar to another Guerlain that I love, French Kiss. I get a lot of amber and then almond, which are not listed here. Tonka and vanilla are well present as well.

I read so many rave reviews for this one so when I tried it, I was shocked that it smelled like cheap bathroom air freshener or maybe even urinal cake to me. It's very old fashioned and quaint, but I do not want to smell like it.

Everything has already been said about this amazing classic, but I'll chime in to say that this is the only stereotypically 'feminine' perfume that I love. I am an outlier when it comes to scent and gravitate more toward the musky, resinous, and animalic end of things rather than the floral or the sweet. And I definitely do not do 'clean and fresh.' L'Heure Blue, however, makes me nearly swoon with pleasure. I think it is the medicinal and balsamic aspects of this Guerlain that bring me such joy. I have never tried any of the modern versions of this scent, but the vintage extrait contains a depth and almost leathery texture that I adore. This combined with the indolic nature of some of the florals gives me that sort of 'vintage skank' that I crave and continue to endlessly seek out. Between the medicinal top and the musky base notes, this is one 'womanly' scent that I will always have in my collection.

A beautiful powdery floral, I'm not sure about the sensuousness, I find it comforting and safe. That probably says more about me than the perfume.
It's beautiful and complex, I'm often unable to discern the separate components entirely. I work with people and appreciate it's 'closeness' rather than rampant sillage.

What a lovely scent. As a fan/owner of Jicky and other Guerlain offerings {masculine/feminine/shared}, L'heure Bleue EdP was on my wishlist. The powdery florals remind me of Caswell-Massey Jockey Club, reputed to be JFK's favored scent and one of my favorite fragrances.
L'heure didn't reveal its vanilla and iris on me until much later, but close to the skin it is quite delicious.
This was a blind buy and I would like to thank all of you BN reviewers of L'heure Bleue, as your input and opinions helped make this purchase an easy decision.
P.S. this is my first review on BN!

Once upon a time I was in love with anything Guerlain released, that I could test or buy. However, my tastes have changed over the decades.

L'Heure Bleu is better, than I remember! I was hesitant to purchase this again. I am glad I did. True romance in a bottle! A perfect, deep floral. Right up my alley. It is classy, well-orchestrated, and charming. If this has been reformulated, I don't care. I enjoy it the way it is now.

A sublime work of art, a timeless concerto, a treasure worth finding. Elegance through simplicity in the notes. Thank you J. G.

This is an incredible female fragrance. It wouldn't have worked with Bergamot as a top note, but the Neroli works perfectly. The soft floral heard notes don't get too powdery. I am beginning to realize that I LOVE "carnation" accord in a women's perfume.

L'Heure Bleue is for me a perfume of such grand and structured richness, it astonishes me every time. An abundance of warm, silky floral notes, spices, powder, balsams and a glorious sandalwood that sings right from the start and just keeps going. All perfectly massaged into a harmonious creation like some incredible pastry that requires intense labour and skill to get just right and create that hallelujah moment on the tongue.
It has numerous markers that date it (for it is now over a hundred years old): floral notes of clove-tinged carnation and sweet violet, with an anise and heliotrope back-up, that were much more common in perfumes of yesteryear; an unabashed powderiness coupled with an unctuousness that is rare in modern creations in which the legacy of ‘fresh' and ‘clean' is still too prominent; a daring amount of spice and resins. And yet from such serious elements arises something that shimmers like a mirage, gleaming, enticing, yet always just receding a step when you think you have understood it.
I tried L'Heure Bleue at perfume counters, always walking away thinking, ‘This is a bit too much for me.' This happened about half a dozen times. And then suddenly, one day, its radiance was revealed and then there was no going back. It's a fugue of a perfume, complex but with each note in the right place.
Much is made of its sensuousness, but it resists the temptation to swooning, full-blown excess (such as, say, the roseate oblivion of Nahema) and also appeals to an intellectual appreciation in its fine calibration. And then there's that amazing sandalwood – still on song, no matter how long your day.
(Review is for EDP, current formulation.)