Reviews of Magie Noire by Lancôme
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 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.
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.
ADVERTISEMENT
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.
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.
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.
Was looking for a sniff of Cuir but they don't carry it
everywhere.
Took a couple of spritzes of "Black Magic"on the arm. Soft memories of Incense of the 70's. Myrrh purr purr. The latest EDT is quite enjoyable as it lacks the Low-Fat Hi Sugar content of most of the Standard Feminines on the shelf and presents a neutral Floral.
everywhere.
Took a couple of spritzes of "Black Magic"on the arm. Soft memories of Incense of the 70's. Myrrh purr purr. The latest EDT is quite enjoyable as it lacks the Low-Fat Hi Sugar content of most of the Standard Feminines on the shelf and presents a neutral Floral.
I was too young to wear this when it first came out, so my first experience with Magie Noire came last month with an Ebay sample that was annoyingly unmarked. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I became infatuated with my sample and had to have a full bottle. After some rather costly experimentation, I discovered that the version I fell in love with is the vintage Huile. For me, this is the concentration/version that is genuinely magical. The top notes produce the exact smell of a green, unshelled walnut when you run your fingernail across its skin. It then becomes a deeper, spicier, more mysterious scent involving patchouli, oak moss and civet. Beautiful and quite unlike anything else!
I'm not quite as much a fan of the vintage parfum. For me, it is missing that amazing green top that makes me want to sink my teeth into something. It's a bit too bottom-heavy for me, although I appreciate its deep and strange exoticism.
I'm not quite as much a fan of the vintage parfum. For me, it is missing that amazing green top that makes me want to sink my teeth into something. It's a bit too bottom-heavy for me, although I appreciate its deep and strange exoticism.
This fragrance has undergone several reformulations over the years, and not for the best. However, it seems that the EDT has now been restored to something closely approximating the original: a bottle I recently purchased at TJMaxx smells wonderful, almost indistinguishable from my vintage EDT.
To me, Magie Noire smells like a cross between Bandit and Azuree - you might not need Magie Noire if you have one or the other of those, but it can't hurt! This is a reasonably priced chypre with excellent longevity and sillage.
To me, Magie Noire smells like a cross between Bandit and Azuree - you might not need Magie Noire if you have one or the other of those, but it can't hurt! This is a reasonably priced chypre with excellent longevity and sillage.
I may be alone here, but in Magie Noire I smell a sister to Caron's wonderful Yatagan. There is the same vegetal quality (which I generally do not like) that evokes decomposing pine needles in Yatagan although it is handled very differently in Magie Noire. Both go completely against the grain of current trends and are all the more compelling for it. Far and away the best scent that Lancome has ever produced, it has all the mysticism of an oriental but is really a chypre, festooned with fruits, flowers and honey and with a serious line up of basenotes: Patchouli, Castoreum, Civet, Vetiver, Musk, Oakmoss and Benzoin. While it is totally unlike Sortilege, they both do share a bewitching quality and are both aptly named.
Magie Noire is difficult to talk about for several reasons:
1) It's so weird that you're unsure if it's actually supposed to smell like that or if your sample has gone off.
2) There's a good chance that it has gone off, because it's not a fragrance that seems to preserve well.
3) It was reformulated so many times even before the real heavy-hitting IFRA restrictions of the 00s that each iteration of it smells wildly different.
That said, I've owned roughly seven different bottles of Magie Noire over the years from many different eras, so I feel like I have a pretty good handle on it. The really good stuff, that preserves the best and smells the most expensive, comes in the original orange and black bottle. It is a mind-blowing trip and should be smelled in 3-D under the influence of marijuana for maximum effect. It smells evil, and it's not just the marketing. It is disturbingly vegetal in the way that Yatagan is, but draped in feminine opulence-- stewing vegetables in an evening gown. Every real animalic in the book is present in large quantities, creating a rude honeyed dog foot effect. There is an addictive industrial gasoline cast to it all, like something it's unhealthy for you to be smelling.
Magie Noire wasn't considered that glamorous or highbrow a fragrance in its day, which seems unbelievable to us now. It was common for suburban mothers to smell like this (what I'd give to go back and inhale that air...). It was sort of a knock-off less expensive Opium that places the resins and spices and musty mystery of that fragrance on the framework of the more prevalent sour green chypres of the 70s. It borrowed Opium's image of oriental languor and added to it a satanic angle, with dark, ghoulish, wonderful advertisements and a package design that incorporated foreboding hieroglyphs. Considering the recent ubiquitous popularity of putting satanic imagery and goats and pentagrams on everything, even clothing for unremarkable hipster good girls, Lancome was ahead.
The subsequent formulation with the black plastic mushroom cap is still excellent but seems slimmed down and cheapened. It is more peppery and conventionally woody, but still disturbing in its vegetable sourness. There is also a weird formulation packaged in a black plastic flask; do not buy this. Because of the cheap packaging, none of them have kept and they have all gone completely off. You will see reports of this anywhere there is talk of vintage Magie Noire.
After this it was briefly discontinued and brought back in a still-interesting version in a clear bottle that smells not unpleasantly like a drugstore knock-off. It's all sneezy black pepper and sour rose and, like everything else from the 80s that's still in production, doesn't have base notes to speak of. This version is still easy to come by and gives you a hint of what the real stuff was like, and it can be appreciated as a sort of "If you like Magie Noire, you'll love Sexy Magic" body spray.
As with Aromatics, I once thought Magie Noire was my signature scent. I spent untold dollars amassing vintage bottles of it on eBay to wear for the rest of my life. I quit wearing it cause I smelled like a lunatic. It makes an exciting appearance in Working Girl, the perfume-lover's dream movie. Melanie Griffith is sitting at Sigourney Weaver's vanity and applies extrait from the black and orange bottle.
Edit 10/2/15: This is the most beautiful thing I've smelled in my life. I'm talking about the current one.
Have they improved it or was I just ungrateful 6 years ago? Did I receive a "French formula" bottle? This was manufactured March 2014 and says "L'Eau de Toilette" instead of "Eau de Toilette." It smells exactly as I remember all the old bottles I had smelling. There is nothing else that smells like Magie Noire. There are other rose chypres, other orientals, other animalics, but none smell like Magie Noire, and this is it.
Don't bother paying for "vintage"--MN doesn't keep well and needs fresh top notes. The current stuff is wonderful.
1) It's so weird that you're unsure if it's actually supposed to smell like that or if your sample has gone off.
2) There's a good chance that it has gone off, because it's not a fragrance that seems to preserve well.
3) It was reformulated so many times even before the real heavy-hitting IFRA restrictions of the 00s that each iteration of it smells wildly different.
That said, I've owned roughly seven different bottles of Magie Noire over the years from many different eras, so I feel like I have a pretty good handle on it. The really good stuff, that preserves the best and smells the most expensive, comes in the original orange and black bottle. It is a mind-blowing trip and should be smelled in 3-D under the influence of marijuana for maximum effect. It smells evil, and it's not just the marketing. It is disturbingly vegetal in the way that Yatagan is, but draped in feminine opulence-- stewing vegetables in an evening gown. Every real animalic in the book is present in large quantities, creating a rude honeyed dog foot effect. There is an addictive industrial gasoline cast to it all, like something it's unhealthy for you to be smelling.
Magie Noire wasn't considered that glamorous or highbrow a fragrance in its day, which seems unbelievable to us now. It was common for suburban mothers to smell like this (what I'd give to go back and inhale that air...). It was sort of a knock-off less expensive Opium that places the resins and spices and musty mystery of that fragrance on the framework of the more prevalent sour green chypres of the 70s. It borrowed Opium's image of oriental languor and added to it a satanic angle, with dark, ghoulish, wonderful advertisements and a package design that incorporated foreboding hieroglyphs. Considering the recent ubiquitous popularity of putting satanic imagery and goats and pentagrams on everything, even clothing for unremarkable hipster good girls, Lancome was ahead.
The subsequent formulation with the black plastic mushroom cap is still excellent but seems slimmed down and cheapened. It is more peppery and conventionally woody, but still disturbing in its vegetable sourness. There is also a weird formulation packaged in a black plastic flask; do not buy this. Because of the cheap packaging, none of them have kept and they have all gone completely off. You will see reports of this anywhere there is talk of vintage Magie Noire.
After this it was briefly discontinued and brought back in a still-interesting version in a clear bottle that smells not unpleasantly like a drugstore knock-off. It's all sneezy black pepper and sour rose and, like everything else from the 80s that's still in production, doesn't have base notes to speak of. This version is still easy to come by and gives you a hint of what the real stuff was like, and it can be appreciated as a sort of "If you like Magie Noire, you'll love Sexy Magic" body spray.
As with Aromatics, I once thought Magie Noire was my signature scent. I spent untold dollars amassing vintage bottles of it on eBay to wear for the rest of my life. I quit wearing it cause I smelled like a lunatic. It makes an exciting appearance in Working Girl, the perfume-lover's dream movie. Melanie Griffith is sitting at Sigourney Weaver's vanity and applies extrait from the black and orange bottle.
Edit 10/2/15: This is the most beautiful thing I've smelled in my life. I'm talking about the current one.
Have they improved it or was I just ungrateful 6 years ago? Did I receive a "French formula" bottle? This was manufactured March 2014 and says "L'Eau de Toilette" instead of "Eau de Toilette." It smells exactly as I remember all the old bottles I had smelling. There is nothing else that smells like Magie Noire. There are other rose chypres, other orientals, other animalics, but none smell like Magie Noire, and this is it.
Don't bother paying for "vintage"--MN doesn't keep well and needs fresh top notes. The current stuff is wonderful.
I started wearing Magie Noire sometime in the early 1990s, when I could no longer get Arpege, the fragrance I'd worn all my life. It was a very good replacement; the fragrance and I got along very well. Then it became hard to find, and what I did find didn't smell very much like what I'd been using. I loved the original, which is what this review is based on - but I can't wear the new version. (When I finally ran out last year, I searched for a replacement, and wound up with Chanel 1932, but the more I wear it, the less good it smells on me; I'm going to have to search for something else.)
It is dark, sultry and I love it. For those who seem to have a level of disdain for the 80's at least you knew what perfume you were smelling. Many of the current offerings smelll the same and offer little to separate themselves from 50 other things on the shelf. It is unique, along with a few others from that time, like Donna Karan signature, and Chanel 19. Nothing else smells like them to me and that makes them desirable to me. Unique, is a word I don't use often with much of the perfume that is considered current today. Yes we all know Opium and Poison when we smell them. But I prefer that to "generic brown bag" perfume which is how I describe many of the current offerings. Nothing unique, except perhaps the bottle design.
An oriental chypre that manages to be both light and dark at the same time. Dark in that the honeyed rose and cassis come together with the depth of a rose chypre, but this does not result in a powerhouse experience and that is where the lightness comes in. It is not overdone - it simply floats.
It is this balance that makes the scent one of the most original and greatest of the rose chypre type.
Barbara Herman extolled its "narcotic honey, rose, tuberose mix with ripe berries." Turin gave it 4 stars and called it a "dry woody," which is way off base. He also compared this to vintage Rochas' Mystere, which is a truer statement.
Top notes: Cassis, Bergamot, Hyacinth, Raspberry
Heart notes: Honey, Jasmine, Muguet, Tuberose, Narcissus, Orris, Oriental Rose
Base notes: Patchouli, Castoreum, Civet, Vetiver, Musk, Oakmoss, Benzoin
Be certain to obtain a bottle of the vintage, as this has been re-formulated, and not too well at that.
First Edit: My bottle of vintage pure parfum has revealed an odd similarity to the 1983 Coty Chypre - a new release, not a re-formulation of the original 1917 classic - once the luscious honeyed rose heart settles down, the dry down is that of crushed caraway seed, identical to the dry down of the 1983 Coty Chypre. The Magie lasts and lasts - 12 hours or more - and is more complex than the Coty. Coty obviously copied this as Magie's release date is prior to that of the 1983 Coty.
It is this balance that makes the scent one of the most original and greatest of the rose chypre type.
Barbara Herman extolled its "narcotic honey, rose, tuberose mix with ripe berries." Turin gave it 4 stars and called it a "dry woody," which is way off base. He also compared this to vintage Rochas' Mystere, which is a truer statement.
Top notes: Cassis, Bergamot, Hyacinth, Raspberry
Heart notes: Honey, Jasmine, Muguet, Tuberose, Narcissus, Orris, Oriental Rose
Base notes: Patchouli, Castoreum, Civet, Vetiver, Musk, Oakmoss, Benzoin
Be certain to obtain a bottle of the vintage, as this has been re-formulated, and not too well at that.
First Edit: My bottle of vintage pure parfum has revealed an odd similarity to the 1983 Coty Chypre - a new release, not a re-formulation of the original 1917 classic - once the luscious honeyed rose heart settles down, the dry down is that of crushed caraway seed, identical to the dry down of the 1983 Coty Chypre. The Magie lasts and lasts - 12 hours or more - and is more complex than the Coty. Coty obviously copied this as Magie's release date is prior to that of the 1983 Coty.
Genre: Woody Oriental
Magie Noire is one of those very few cases (alongside Or Black and Black Aoud) where they got the Noire right. This is indeed a dark fragrance. Luca Turin calls Magie Noire a woody chypre and Michael Edwards calls it a green woody oriental. I fall in with Turin. Magie Noire smells to me like a green chypre even a leather chypre, having a lot more in common with Bandit and Aromatics Elixir than with Parfum Sacré or Bois des Îles. Listed or not, I smell a big mossy base note, while some very conspicuous castoreum and a less obvious civet note may account for the leathery impression. Heck, between the civet, castoreum, patchouli and vetiver, Magie Noire's drydown occasionally even reminds me of…Yatagan!
Those earthy, woody, and animalic notes completely dominate Magie Noire's florals, to the extent that I imagine it working well as a kind of retro masculine. I don't think there's anything girly here to put men off, so much as a weight and an emphatically mossy flavor that read more like 1978 than 2010. Anyone who's comfortable in Azzaro pour Homme or vintage Givenchy Gentleman should be comfortable in Magie Noire. In fact, the largest obstacle to Magie Noire's appeal, gender notwithstanding, is that it goes so completely against the grain of contemporary perfume fashion. Fresh, light, clean, transparent, aquatic, and minimalist, are all antithetical to Magie Noire. This is a massive, earthbound scent, of a kind few houses would dare launch these days. Thank heavens Lancôme still sees fit to keep it on the shelves.
Magie Noire is one of those very few cases (alongside Or Black and Black Aoud) where they got the Noire right. This is indeed a dark fragrance. Luca Turin calls Magie Noire a woody chypre and Michael Edwards calls it a green woody oriental. I fall in with Turin. Magie Noire smells to me like a green chypre even a leather chypre, having a lot more in common with Bandit and Aromatics Elixir than with Parfum Sacré or Bois des Îles. Listed or not, I smell a big mossy base note, while some very conspicuous castoreum and a less obvious civet note may account for the leathery impression. Heck, between the civet, castoreum, patchouli and vetiver, Magie Noire's drydown occasionally even reminds me of…Yatagan!
Those earthy, woody, and animalic notes completely dominate Magie Noire's florals, to the extent that I imagine it working well as a kind of retro masculine. I don't think there's anything girly here to put men off, so much as a weight and an emphatically mossy flavor that read more like 1978 than 2010. Anyone who's comfortable in Azzaro pour Homme or vintage Givenchy Gentleman should be comfortable in Magie Noire. In fact, the largest obstacle to Magie Noire's appeal, gender notwithstanding, is that it goes so completely against the grain of contemporary perfume fashion. Fresh, light, clean, transparent, aquatic, and minimalist, are all antithetical to Magie Noire. This is a massive, earthbound scent, of a kind few houses would dare launch these days. Thank heavens Lancôme still sees fit to keep it on the shelves.
All I can say is wow.. I'm in love again. I recently bought Magie Noire, and had it for just two days. I can't stop smelling it. I wore it in the '80s, because a coworker had it on . I must say, it's not the original, but close. The lasting power is maybe 6-8 hours. Not bad, but the original for me lasted until the next day. Just fabulous. I have a hard time describing scents, so I won't try. I can not stand many of the newer fragrances out there. They are so sweet. Geared toward the younger crowd I guess. That's why MN is perfect for me. It still can be "in your face" if applied with a heavy hand. I usually wear it on my legs, so it floats up to my nose. The dry down is what gets me. Soft, and somewhat spicy. I'm back in heaven once again.
This smells a whole lot different than I remembered from about 1993. Then it was more a more complex, smoky oriental. Now it smells more woodsy, mossy, and more distinct florals, with a very strong base. Like it? I bought a bottle and received tons of compliments on it from both men and women. I don't plan on buying another bottle, I'm into other fragrances at this time, but a sales associate from Lancome said if their new fragrance takes off, they will be discontinuing Magie Noire. I can't beleive this, for this fragrance is quite popular and has quite a following.
I am not a fan of chypres. Plain and simple. I'm certainly intrigued by them and I have some in my personal collection but they are fragrances that often perplex me. Sometimes they even intimidate me. My chypres are the ones I grab most often, just to simply sniff and admire. I don't wear them often. They frighten me a bit in their complexity.
This is a classic chypre and I would recommend it to anyone who has a chypre obsession. There is a classic 1980s velvet feel to this one, like a vintage thrift store gem you find that somehow everyone else has managed to look over. I'm one of those who saw it and couldn't appreciate it for what it was.
I loved it when my mom would spritz this on me. I was six or seven and it was one of my mom's favorites. It reminded me of the plastic scent of Malibu Barbie's blond locks. Weird, I know. I got a little older and I asked my mom to please stop wearing it. It made me nauseous so she did. I think a major reason why it did and why I still cannot handle the smell of it now has to do with the heavy-handed manner in which my mom and my aunt wore it. It was just too much, like everything else in the 1980s.
Like most chypres MN is very strong. I don't know about the composition of it now but the 1980s juice was strong. It is definitely a spritz-the-air-then-walk-through fragrance. If your skin is wet with MN then you've applied too much. I can appreciate its boldness and its complexity but I still liken it to a Godiva chocolate-covered lobster tail in a caviar sauce--too much of a good thing.
This is a classic chypre and I would recommend it to anyone who has a chypre obsession. There is a classic 1980s velvet feel to this one, like a vintage thrift store gem you find that somehow everyone else has managed to look over. I'm one of those who saw it and couldn't appreciate it for what it was.
I loved it when my mom would spritz this on me. I was six or seven and it was one of my mom's favorites. It reminded me of the plastic scent of Malibu Barbie's blond locks. Weird, I know. I got a little older and I asked my mom to please stop wearing it. It made me nauseous so she did. I think a major reason why it did and why I still cannot handle the smell of it now has to do with the heavy-handed manner in which my mom and my aunt wore it. It was just too much, like everything else in the 1980s.
Like most chypres MN is very strong. I don't know about the composition of it now but the 1980s juice was strong. It is definitely a spritz-the-air-then-walk-through fragrance. If your skin is wet with MN then you've applied too much. I can appreciate its boldness and its complexity but I still liken it to a Godiva chocolate-covered lobster tail in a caviar sauce--too much of a good thing.
The old formula was my very favorite perfume of all time, this new formula is still nice but lacks much of what made the old fornmula great. I will still buy purchase this an hope that the many pleas to bring back the original will be heard by Lancome.
Magie Noire picks you. Either you love it or you don't. It has been my signature scent since it came out. Now they have discontinued the original version and the new version is a sad replacement 2nd.
Just received a small bottle of vintage Magie Noir. I think I may have smelled this when it was first released but I was young and it didn't appeal to me. I am loving this perfume now. It's so dark and lush. On my skin, there's not a lot of floral, just a bit with the dark fruits and that mysterious base.
Definitely one of a kind.
Definitely one of a kind.
In the same vein as Opium and Aromatics Elixir this very dark oriental is a dusty, misty, harsh and animalic twist of flowers, spices, amber, animal notes and incense conjuring baroque ambiences full of draperies, chandeliers, tapestries, sumptuous stairs, purple rooms, occult lasciviousness and mistery, overall inside high medieval palaces surroundend by great courts framed by torches in the winter night. Blackcurrant, rough spices and ylang-ylang darken utterly the juice while the intense bulgarian rose and jasmine enhance the Victorian general atmosphere and the nocturnal esotericism. The sweetness of flowers, amber, dark fruits and benzoin is toned down by sharp spices, stark patchouli and incense in the way the scent, lacking of particularly mellowing and brewing notes, turns out severe and dreadful. A touch of final dissonance and sourness is the mirror of some animalic or leathery insertion of notes as civet or castoreum. Mystery and stiff elegance at high level.
From reading about the evolution of Magie Noire from 1978 until 2011, I think that it has always been a grab-bag of a perfume. Early versions sound like they emphasized different facets than this most recent one. It sounds like they used to bridge the dark floral chypre to the spicy oriental via some old-school animalics.
While I like it, I'd have to categorize the current version as a tight-assed woody floral. Not a lot of amber, not a lot of moss. Civet? Castoreum? Nowhere to be found. But you know, some days a tight-assed floral is just the right thing. And as many before me here have noted and per my own equation that men's fragrance = (women's fragrance the interesting parts ) x 0.75, Magie Noire is an ideal men's fragrance.
While I like it, I'd have to categorize the current version as a tight-assed woody floral. Not a lot of amber, not a lot of moss. Civet? Castoreum? Nowhere to be found. But you know, some days a tight-assed floral is just the right thing. And as many before me here have noted and per my own equation that men's fragrance = (women's fragrance the interesting parts ) x 0.75, Magie Noire is an ideal men's fragrance.
This fragrance surprised me. I didn't actually recognise this fragrance because it was bottled in a green rectangular-shaped bottle. The way it had been packaged made me assume that it was going to be a citrusy/green scent. I was truly amazed when I discovered that it wasn't.
Magie Noire is a soft, slightly musky and pretty floral fragrance. The scent is oddly fresh and clean, yet warm, powdery and comforting. This makes me think that this would be an excellent fragrance for all seasons.
This fragrance was naturally going to be a hit with me since it contains so many of my favourite notes; raspberry, honey, tuberose, jasmine, ylang ylang and lily of the valley.
Strangely enough, I think this would make the perfect bedtime scent during those warmer nights. It's soothing, delicate and luxurious. It actually reminds me slightly of D&G for women in its powdery softness of the drydown.
I think this fragrance is an excellent choice if you want to go with something that isn't necessarily what everyone else wears. It's casual and delightful without being too overpowering. It's perfect.
Magie Noire is a soft, slightly musky and pretty floral fragrance. The scent is oddly fresh and clean, yet warm, powdery and comforting. This makes me think that this would be an excellent fragrance for all seasons.
This fragrance was naturally going to be a hit with me since it contains so many of my favourite notes; raspberry, honey, tuberose, jasmine, ylang ylang and lily of the valley.
Strangely enough, I think this would make the perfect bedtime scent during those warmer nights. It's soothing, delicate and luxurious. It actually reminds me slightly of D&G for women in its powdery softness of the drydown.
I think this fragrance is an excellent choice if you want to go with something that isn't necessarily what everyone else wears. It's casual and delightful without being too overpowering. It's perfect.