Paloma Picasso / Mon Parfum
Paloma Picasso (1984)

(Review of a vintage EdP and a vintage EdT, both Parfums Paloma Picasso era pre-1990)

This perfume is lewd. It’s got the bit-lip, swagger and gait of a night worker in leather wearing some enormous rose perfume. You do get to see some different sides of this singular, seedy personality in these two different concentrations though, but regardless of which one you spray on your person be ready for some raised eyebrows.

In the EdT, immediately a rich honey note and a cloudy fecal civet note are playing upwards and not wanting to wait their turn, mixing and mingling with massive crystalline aldehydes, bitter and sour bergamot, and a cold pale green hyacinth. Rose and coriander quickly begin blooming with the tenacity of bonfire smoke. This rose is no wallflower; it is not jammy, sweet, demur, or prim and regal, it is vivid siren red with a sharp green edge. Part of this has to do with a geranium note very convincingly and specifically accenting the rose with a bitter, oily green and slightly lemony quality. The coriander is cooly woody and keeping the lights low. It takes a little time but the other florals eventually make their presence known in unison, but mostly behind the rose and coriander. The geranium departs before the florals even begin to lose staying power, giving more room to play for the jasmine. In the EdP, the honey and civet are not present in the opening but those enormous aldehydes, the bergamot, hyacinth, rose, and coriander are still present and accounted for but simply - and maybe obviously - more saturated and with greater detail. However, the heart is more rose forward in the EdP, and the tuberose and ylang-ylang are playing bigger roles. I definitely pull the tropical and creamy banana lean of ylang-ylang, and tuberose is its usual diva-self here, heady and energetic. With some time the honey begins to peak out from the base and augment some of the florals in the heart to give a distinct mimosa impression, but then it shifts backwards to the preceding notes. Neat trick.

The dry down of the EdT is a classic stinky chypre done flawlessly. Mossy, civety, earthy from patchouli, and only slightly vanillic and resinous from the benzoin. The EdP does eventually approach nearly the same base as the EdT but it certainly leans more amber, focusing on honey, civet, woods, and benzoin with a noticeably smaller dose of oakmoss and patchouli - still a chypre, but more weight placed on some amberic notes. The leather intonations are subtle, like trying to smell the night worker’s leather jacket over their massive rose perfume; both concentrations are more civet-animalics and resins forwards, and only touches of materials vaguely like styrax or castoreum that could truly evoke leather. The EdT certainly arrives at its base faster than the EdP, as to be expected, but the EdP keeps its base surprisingly well hidden for a long time. It is reasonable to think of this either way, but it is very remarkable how long the EdP holds onto the floral heart or, versus, how fast the EdT dispenses it.

What a marvelous piece of work Paloma Picasso is. If it weren’t for the obscenely bold character, you could almost call it elegant. There is a seamlessness and perfectly-judged blend to the composition that creates an exquisite and elegant texture… that you will notice from ten feet away, that is. For whatever elegance the composition has to its structure, that bold rose and those rumbling animalics plus a diffusiveness able to be detected by satellites can, at times, distract from the intricacies and luxuriousness. Wear this with confidence, because, if you don’t, it will be one of those perfumes that wears you.

This perfume made me realise that floral chypres are not for me: for some reason, I can never pick up the 'mossy' note in any of them; I just feel like I've been hit over the head by a screeching bouquet of flowers in the heart notes. (I have the same problem with Chanel No 19.)

With Paloma, I'm note sure what the flower in question seems to be, but it seems like gardenia or something sourish: once the crisp top notes disappear, I'm left with that for over an hour. I've previously observed a drydown accord of patchouli-carnation, which is lovely, but I'm not prepared to wait for that. I don't pick up any animalics at all: I guess it's another example of how everybody's body chemistry is different.

As many have observed, this is a perfume which will get the wearer noticed in a "I'm about to have a power lunch with a client, and then I'm going to take over the board room" sense. For me, it's a bit much.

Paloma Picasso by Paloma Picasso (1984) is a knockout, full stop. Francis Bocris isn't listed for many perfumes, but he did right by Paloma with this one. Paloma Picasso is also one of the few legacy fragrances L'Oréal hasn't managed to screw up, but it's always been with them since the very beginning, and is probably one of their longest-standing brands, so there may actually be some pride of ownership involved there. Either that, or it's been long discontinued for years and so few people buy it now that we're all just swimming in unwanted stock, as prices on it seem to be fairly stable and friendly unless you go for the first editions that have rounder, more circular bottles. The move to the stretched ovals might have just been to be more considerate of shelf space for people who have collections, as I find some of the really squat and wide bottles difficult to store. This is unisex bordering on masculine to my nose, and things like Parfums de Marly Lippizan (2010) call back to it.

My review comes from a vintage-ish bottle, when they were all gloss black with clear middle, and is the eau de parfum concentration rather than eau de toilette or the "Mon Parfum" extrait. Massive aldehydes, rose, and coriander come screaming from the nozzle upon spray, being very much a woman in a suit rather than a dress. You call this one ma'am, or you get out of the way. The usual aromatic players in rose leather chypres like this come out pretty early, with the bergamot sliding alongside the aldehydes like a snake into the rosewood, geranium, and hyacinth, which for me is not as dominant as the rose here, so no Chamade by Guerlain (1969) or Floris Edwardian Bouquet (1901) comparisons, really. The leather is of the quinoline type for sure, and is much more stark (and thus masculine) than later things such as Montana Parfum de Peau (1986). Performance is "until you tire of it" strong, and also until everyone around you tires of it too, if you care to be nice.

I get the feeling Paloma herself looked at things like Magie Noire by Lancôme (1978) and the then-recent Diva by Ungaro (1983) and said "I want my version of this" to L'Oréal, who literally created the Luxury Parfums division for her and this release after flirting with designer perfumes in past such as Jacques Fath and Ted Lapidus. Paloma Picasso is certainly the most butch of these powerhouse rose leathers, as the rose is sharpened to a knife's edge and made not sweet or flowery at all, with the geranium and green galbanum, then honed further over tannery leather, oakmoss, animalics, and vetiver. Paco Rabanne and Estée Lauder would lock into an arms race with La Nuit (1985) and Knowing (1988) respectively, all probably a response to this and its predecessors, but Paloma Picasso looks backwards, and not forwards, to things like Cabochard de Grès (1959), and Bandit by Robert Piguet (1944) for its execution of leather. Crack that whip. Thumbs up

Oh, wow - this is really interesting! There's a specific kind of 70's chypres that are extremely green and quite masculine by today's standards, though they are officially women's perfumes. I'm talking Chanel Cristal and No 19, Eau de Campagne, up to macho leathery green monsters like Jai Ose. Paloma feels like it belongs in that genre, but it's also quite a bit more floral than I'm used to from this style.

So what does it smell like? On first spray, I get a blast of green galbanum supported by vetiver, with aldehydes on top and a macho leathery blast underneath. Given a few minutes to settle, a powdery lily/muguet note comes in. The lily mixing with aldehydes gives the illusion of hyacinth or lilac, while the vetiver and resins melt together with a bit of civet to create a powerhouse-esque undercarriage.

The base is a strong green chypre, heavy on the galbanum and vetiver, as I would have expected from the topnotes.

I always enjoy a well-executed juxtaposition of feminine and masculine elements, and this is especially fun in the way it crams together an extremely feminine powdery loud 80's floral and a very masculine filthy powerhouse. In the end, I think the feminine side overpowers the masculine, but not enough to make this anything close to a standard floral. Thumbs up!

I have no idea what the current version of this perfume smells like but I have a vintage bottle and the scent that issues from it is of a 1980s heavy-hitter looking nostalgically towards releases far older than that decade. Paloma Picasso combines heady florals – hyacinth (almost Chamade-like), ylang, jasmine – with the softer, civilizing influence of roses, rising from the wearer’s skin first as a kind of exotic floral liqueur (there is a slight boozy-woozy aspect to the opening) before the maturity of the base (mossy and woody) shows through to really make those flowers bloom. It is rich, ‘perfumy’ and indulgent, a bit of a throwback in terms of style, but brimming with confidence and, more importantly, pleasure.

Okay, I officially feel like I was born in the wrong decade. Sure, I like and enjoy… even love some modern fragrances. But when something from the past resonates with me, it just hits different, and strikes up a feeling that is so strong within me that I cannot even believe something this amazing… this beautiful… exists. I mean that’s somewhat hyperbole, but this is absolutely remarkable. And sexy! It’s weird for me to describe a fragrance as sexy, but that’s truly what comes to mind. It feels feminine, and raw, and a little bit raunchy in a very good way. This is not prim and proper, or demure. It’s dripping and oozing sensuality and seduction.

As far as the notes go, I definitely smell hyacinth and rose, along with civet, a touch of green galbanum, and honey. Everything else is present but not as forward. And I can’t pick them out without seeing the notes. The longevity is amazing, and the sillage is a touch softer than the smelling directly on the skin, which has a tiny bit of a sharp quality, but not on a negative way.

I don’t normally like civet. And hyacinth, though I do like it, is usually presented in a very prom and proper and sort of uptight way. This is not uptight.