Magie Noire
Lancôme (1978)

Magie Noire by Lancôme (1978) is a sequel or flanker of sorts to the original Magie by Lancôme (1950). which had sagging sales by 1978. Magie Noire is pretty magical by olfactive standards, one of the first dark animalic rose chypres that would become all the rage by the 1980's, and became so iconic that it ended up replacing the original Magie in the same way Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche (1982) took over for Drakkar by Guy Laroche (1972) with its eclipsing success as well. Gerard Goupy and Yves Tanguy (both directly employed by Lancôme at the time) created this fragrance with lesser-known nose Jean-Charles Niel, all three of whom would end up working in private employ in the coming decade; Gerard would end up with Avon then Givaudan, Tanguy with IFF in time, and Niel with Mane. This perfume was partially responsible for those careers blossoming.

The opening to Magie Noire is pretty gorgeous, with dark rose and hyacinth, blackcurrant and galbanum; the last part of this was clearly in the pocket for the 1970's, but Magie Noire is so much more than just another green chypre. There's a kitchen sink of florals in the heart, and I won't pretend I can smell them all, leaving you to read the official note pyramid if you want to know what's in there. Obviously jasmine, lily of the valley, and orris are part of this, as evidenced by the white floral bitterness that counters the honeyed benzoin and amber of the base; all of Magie Noire is a complex waltz of counter-balancing agents keeping the dry down walking a tightrope between bitter and sweet. Oakmoss, patchouli, vetiver, and sandalwood do the same counterpoint maneuvers against the castoreum, civet, and aforementioned amber. Magie Noire is absent any noticeable vanilla, and the overall profile feels saturnine, leathery, and very serious in the finish.

The name translates to "Black Magic" in English, and while this isn't quite Elvira or Morticia Addams in scent form, you get the feeling that the person wearing Magie Noire wants to be taken seriously and not dismissed as pretty or perfunctory. I'm sampling vintage eau de toilette with this review, so I cannot speak of what Lancôme does today with this scent, which has never left production (even though its parfum variant has). Magie itself was revived once as part of Lancôme's re-issue collection, and all opinions point to it being a less-remarkable creature in any vintage new or old, as it was a simpler ambery chypre in the mid-century mode when made; a blue-print if you will for many Avon, Revlon, Arden, Coty, and Shulton fragrances that filled drugstores to the point Magie itself became indistinct. Magie Noire never suffered that fate, as all its also-rans were prominently in high-end stores instead. Thumbs up

The mystique in older formulation Magie Noire EDT is in its refusal to be reduced to its density. It is no assault to the nostrils, weaving an invisible tapestry of incantations around me as I wear it. For those who obsess over immediate gratification and a big block of a fragrance pummeling you into submission for the sake of performance, it may seem a bit lost in the shuffle. Fear not, my conditioned fragheads, scents that are nuanced and sly tend to be the ones that most enchant the wearer over time. There is no argument on whether Magie Noire 'performs,' because it transcends that. It's better than that.

Magie Noire can be the seducer or the seductress, whatever you prefer. The point is there is seduction. As it first hits the skin, we have the high timbre of galbanum and hyacinth shaded with a dusky panoply of spices, woods and musk that are the hallmark of the scent. There is a tint of raspberry tartness that also contrasts in the top notes, but it is the slightest touch, there is nothing sweet about Magie, I assure you. There is zero gourmand going on, and for that, I am happy. After all, gooey desserts, caramel, and maltol were not a "thing" for fragrance in the late 70s. This is the truest chypre in that it comports itself as confident, mature, wise, and not to be played around with.

The bracing opening transitions to a heart of an abandoned garden of flowers: narcissus that have been flanked with wildflowers and weeds, overgrown tuberose, a carpet of muguet that swallowed the more delicate flowers of the courtyard. This is no cacophony, but nor is it a Wagner drama....maybe its more a flute solo in minor key that builds as it dries down and we enter further into the deep, dark forest, with moss-smothered ancient trees and honeyed distant rays of the setting sun lending what little light that allows us to see in front of our face.

That's it, that's the dark magic of Magie Noire. I suppose that it was aptly named!

Vintage Parfum, first (?) version:

When I was young, there was an expanse of bramble bushes that in the summer heat, as the berries ripened, would transform the air with a bittersweet, tart balm. It was this, along with the surrounding vegetation, that resulted in a scent memory that is just as vivid today in my mind. I recall the fruits in different stages of maturity, bright magenta to a deep black. Careful to avoid the thorns, I'd pick them and eat them one by one, hands stained with juice. The opening of Magie Noire parfum, its piercing green galbanum, blackcurrant, and raspberry, remind me of the summer blackberry air long ago. Then Magie Noire recalls even more, it haunts me as it progresses, like the darker corners of the woods, when in solitude, I am greeted only by the sound of the trilling pine warbler, the plangent repeat of the ovenbird, and my favorite, that of the hermit thrush, with its otherworldly melody.

I still hug trees as I did as a child, I still turn over rocks to see what lurks underneath, I still look very closely at decaying tree trunks and marvel at the smallest organisms, trying as best as I can to enter the world, or at least imagine that I am. The green of the foliage begins to glow as I look at it long enough, and that is the sensation I feel here, glowing green foliage, bitter and flowing with phloem. Entering the forest further, where the sunlight struggles to reach the understory, this is where the most unusual flora grows, organisms like myco-heterotrophic plants: ghost pipes, pinedrops, snowplants. I imagine that Magie Noire would be the fragrance if any of them had one. Now dusk approaches, and to be caught in the woods so late is the most exhilarating rush of fear and adrenaline, but also of magic. What a time to shovel one's hands through dry pine straw, through into the earth, and to see the sky grow dimmer by the minute. There is this point here where Magie Noire smells of honey, earth, and camphor, and the thickest, densest, most impossible moss cushion. If you've ever really dug your hands into the forest floor, there is that loamy, fermented quality that I imagine only the most devoted forest scouts can admire. I sense it here.

There is the scent of grape must, inedible red berries that when you squeeze give off a peculiar astringent order, the underside of a mushroom, plucked and withered lily of the valley, long dried out roses. Then there is a myrrh oil imprint on my skin, with some vetiver and a smell that I would describe as castoreum-scented incense. It's as if I've made my way home before nightfall digs its heels into the ground, and I am left reflecting on the blackberry day and the forest sundown. This gives me the same haunting, temporal synesthesia as that of Yatagan, Aliage, or Devin, where it feels profoundly familiar, profoundly like home, but my neurons can't articulate the sensation and I certainly fail to translate it into the written word. Yes, that is how weird I really am, and thank you for your time reading my weird description of this perfume. Night night.

Dusky, spicy, dry, chypre oriental hybrid, razor slash of green top to bottom. Unsettling and bewitching.

My all time favorite. I have vintage and I have the new one. I find the vintage more intense and the new one slightly lighter. This scent is interpreted differently by everyone. I even saw someone classify it as clean/fresh. that doesn't come to mind for me. This is my favorite kind of fragrance "chypre floral". 80s shoulder pads boss. My mom and my aunt wore this so the memories are all around. This may be my most perfect scent. It's what I compare all other to. It's got a warmth that some chypres don't have and the nice green note rounds it out nice so that it isn't too warm. I instantly gravitate towards this in the winter; however, it's an all season scent for me. It's what fragrance is supposed to smell like. I think you could wear this for a day at home....to be...to a wedding...to a formal affair...to a night on the town...to work. it's just stunning.

A review of the original vintage version

The opening, an intrinsicate mix of flowers and fruits, is delightful. A rich rose note, smooth and velvety, combines with a nice hyacinth and whiffs of muguet supply the floral potpourri. The fruity component is mainly a mix of raspberry and blackcurrant. At the tail end of the top notes a gala NUM impression leads into the drydown.

The heart notes continue the rose-Centre's theme by adding additional florals over time. A fresh jasmine impression appears whilst the muguet becomes stronger in the central stage of the development of this creation, and a touch of a honeyed narcissus is present too. Further into the drydown this mix becomes headier and creamier, courtesy of a well-made ylang-ylang note that is enhance by a lovely tuberose. This tuberose is on the restrained side and it is quite a slim tuberose, lacking any significant indolic, raisinous or waxy component.

The base notes enter a darker realm, with an edgier and slightly sharp castoreum and a dark civet resulting in muskier character. A lovely oakmoss enhances the sharper side, although not overly so; this is no Gucci Nobile. An ambery note sandalwood struggles to make its word heard next to the oakmoss and the castoreum, whilst this darker phase is given some rays brightness by the addition of touches of vetiver and benzoin towards the end. The base is, nonetheless, the darkest part in the development of this creation.

I get moderate sillage, very good projection and eight hours of longevity on my skin.

A complex and rich scents for elegant nights out in spring or autumn, with delightfully layered texure and constituted of ingredients of a very high quality. One of Lancôme's finest. 3.75/5.

I never would've imagined falling in love with this scent, but that's exactly what happened. I received a sample of this and randomly selected it out of my "mountain" and had no idea what to expect because I hadn't looked at reviews or notes or anything, I just knew that this was a vintage scent and had no idea of if mine was the older formulation or not.

After the wearing I have reason to believe that it is the reformulated version and here is why: It's considered a chypre and heavy on the animalics/oakmoss. On my skin it's a lovely soapy floral. It's like rive gauche with it's heady green roses but take away the aldehydes. I get a hint of sweetness but I'd never have guessed honey. It's way too subtle, like the natural sweetness of flowers. They lie on a bed of woods, no green oakmoss. I would've guessed sandalwood or cedar as there's a touch of creaminess in there and nothing sharp about it. I didn't really get much of a development from top to bottom notes, and that could mean that it's either a vintage with it's top notes evaporated or that it's the newer formulation that they simplified to make it mass pleasing.

Either way, it manages to be wearable with a vintage charm. Old school but not so much that I wouldn't wear it in modern times, but I might feel a bit self conscious wearing it out in public. I would be paranoid that someone else would think I smell too "mature" or dated. This is a scent I would wear for myself cozied up at home maybe a hot cup of tea or coffee and a mystery book. It might be dark and storming outside. For some reason for a scent that is so pleasant and sweet (feeling) this evokes a dark nature. Like a beautiful rose bush deep in the forest where beasts and monsters might be lurking. Like the temptation that led Aurora to prick her finger on the spinning wheel.

This scent is so pure and precious yet contains an elusive darkness that calls to me. This scent doesn't feel as though it's entirely meant for me and yet I know that I will yearn for and seek her out anyways. Maybe when I am older and wiser, and "riper" if you will, the scent may feel more like it belongs on my skin. But regardless I would still like to seek a small bottle to own in the meantime, brought out and worn on special and specific occasions. Whether I wear it or it wears me...

I might need to seek a newer bottle in store (though I can't imagine where they would stock this over the 500 LVEB flankers) to compare and see if this matches my sample. If not, I will start hunting for a vintage bottle reasonably priced. Hoping the oakmoss isn't a standout in either; The one I have is perfect as it is.