Reviews of Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent
Review of an early 1980s Charles of the Ritz EdT
So says Stephen King having requoted Jonathan Swift, “sooner or later, everything old is new again.” I would like for that to be true of Rive Gauche. What’s “in” and/or “fashionable” is almost always a repeat of something that came before. Rive Gauche was supposed to be a perfume of a sci-fi future (it wouldn’t), completely reinventing how we think of the aldehydic floral chypre (it didn’t), and be unlike anything we had before (it wasn’t). But it got pretty darn close though! Today it would likely smell way too retro for most, but, at some point, “everything old is new again”. This futuristic perfume of the past needs a social media manager so that it can “reinvent itself” back into relevance.
What makes Rive Gauche stand out from its predecessor aldehydic florals is the overdose of aldehydes presenting like ice shards, and virtually no sweetness to the fruit or floral notes. This was quite unique for the day, but hardly groundbreaking. At a time when aldehydic florals were typically hazy, abstract, powdery French chic affairs that smelled of old chateaux with well manicured gardens, RG wanted to smell of skyscrapers and glass, of flowers grown in a laboratory. The green peaches in the opening, covered in those icy aldehydes, give an immediate feeling of youthful, modern energy. Chanel No. 5, this was not going to be. Even in the floral heart there is a verdancy to the rose and jasmine that smells hurried and immature - but, in today’s perfumes that would mean sweet. Not RG. The florals are vividly saturated and devoid of any nectars and pollens. Orris and muguet act as street lights, shining a bit of a white and yellow glow into the cool, glassy, and icy night. Swells of oakmoss and musks work their way up and down the perfume before ceding to sandalwood, presenting a contrast of skyscrapers and flora.
I have a soft spot, a big one, for Rive Gauche even though there is nothing soft about the perfume at all. It is hard, bifurcated, piercing, abrasive, vivid and saturated. It’s a lot of things that are negative and difficult, but the sum is greater than the parts and the sum at the bottom line says masterpiece.
So says Stephen King having requoted Jonathan Swift, “sooner or later, everything old is new again.” I would like for that to be true of Rive Gauche. What’s “in” and/or “fashionable” is almost always a repeat of something that came before. Rive Gauche was supposed to be a perfume of a sci-fi future (it wouldn’t), completely reinventing how we think of the aldehydic floral chypre (it didn’t), and be unlike anything we had before (it wasn’t). But it got pretty darn close though! Today it would likely smell way too retro for most, but, at some point, “everything old is new again”. This futuristic perfume of the past needs a social media manager so that it can “reinvent itself” back into relevance.
What makes Rive Gauche stand out from its predecessor aldehydic florals is the overdose of aldehydes presenting like ice shards, and virtually no sweetness to the fruit or floral notes. This was quite unique for the day, but hardly groundbreaking. At a time when aldehydic florals were typically hazy, abstract, powdery French chic affairs that smelled of old chateaux with well manicured gardens, RG wanted to smell of skyscrapers and glass, of flowers grown in a laboratory. The green peaches in the opening, covered in those icy aldehydes, give an immediate feeling of youthful, modern energy. Chanel No. 5, this was not going to be. Even in the floral heart there is a verdancy to the rose and jasmine that smells hurried and immature - but, in today’s perfumes that would mean sweet. Not RG. The florals are vividly saturated and devoid of any nectars and pollens. Orris and muguet act as street lights, shining a bit of a white and yellow glow into the cool, glassy, and icy night. Swells of oakmoss and musks work their way up and down the perfume before ceding to sandalwood, presenting a contrast of skyscrapers and flora.
I have a soft spot, a big one, for Rive Gauche even though there is nothing soft about the perfume at all. It is hard, bifurcated, piercing, abrasive, vivid and saturated. It’s a lot of things that are negative and difficult, but the sum is greater than the parts and the sum at the bottom line says masterpiece.
It's been decades since I've sniffed Rive Gauche but the formula inside the bottle I bought last week is as beautiful and strange as I remember it—probably the coldest, most angular, most sci-fi rose-based floral ever created. At the same time, though, not at all off-putting or difficult to wear, in spite of not smelling in any way warm, snuggly, sexy, scintillating, juicy, or good-natured. Instead, it's more like a piece of abstract sculpture that catches your eye but puzzles your brain, initially incomprehensible, but once you get it home you realize it's the exact thing needed to make your space come alive.
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Rive Gauche would undoubtedly be deemed dowdy to today's Kayali crew, though I am certain few of them would even have the word "dowdy" in their vocabulary: they would just say "eww." Yet this magnificent monolith born out of the age of Helen Reddy anthems and "You've Come A Long Way, Baby" is an article of what was futuristic chic in its time. It strikes from the outset like a brain freeze from an icy peach sorbet, with spiky aldehydes, a metallic galbanum and tight citrus soon follows, almost as if this is something HAL's cyborg girlfriend would wear. Nothing here is round and soft, and that is NO complaint from me. Quite the contrary, I pine for the days when this was the aroma of the zeitgeist.
It does mellow somewhat in the mist of chilled oxide rose and friable iris, with the peripheral warmth of ylang and gardenia that keeps one from going hypothermic. Bitter, clean, powdery, sharp: love, love, love, love. The evernyl haze eclipses the florals, rendering it all even more abstract. Darker elements begin to creep in, including a deep, intoxicating sandalwood, particularly in this vintage I own. Yes, how hazardous to risk an old bottle of this baby, pressurized atomizer and all. The first time I sprayed it, I panicked as the atomizer remained in the depressed position and I was gassed by ecstasy! Luckily, I was able to yank it back up and all subsequent sprays have been just fine. I don't know if it's the metal canister, but what came out smells unbruised—immaculate. One last thing: Rive Gauche is all about the sillage. The end.
It does mellow somewhat in the mist of chilled oxide rose and friable iris, with the peripheral warmth of ylang and gardenia that keeps one from going hypothermic. Bitter, clean, powdery, sharp: love, love, love, love. The evernyl haze eclipses the florals, rendering it all even more abstract. Darker elements begin to creep in, including a deep, intoxicating sandalwood, particularly in this vintage I own. Yes, how hazardous to risk an old bottle of this baby, pressurized atomizer and all. The first time I sprayed it, I panicked as the atomizer remained in the depressed position and I was gassed by ecstasy! Luckily, I was able to yank it back up and all subsequent sprays have been just fine. I don't know if it's the metal canister, but what came out smells unbruised—immaculate. One last thing: Rive Gauche is all about the sillage. The end.
I had Rive Gauche in the 70s. It was in a metal can, so you couldn't really tell how much was left. Along with Lauren by Ralph Lauren, Rive Gauche was one of the few perfumes that I used all of and was so sad to see it empty. I remember it as clean and fresh, cool and smooth in a sort of cool, powdery way. A very good scent which I loved. This was probably my favorite perfume, and I've bought many. I may buy it again now.
I recently bought Yves Saint Laurent's Libre Le Parfum, which smelled good in the store but seems too sickeningly sweet for me after wearing it just twice- it's like a sweet food scent. So disappointing. I wish I had bought Rive Gauche instead. I would have if it had been in the store or they could have ordered it for me.
I recently bought Yves Saint Laurent's Libre Le Parfum, which smelled good in the store but seems too sickeningly sweet for me after wearing it just twice- it's like a sweet food scent. So disappointing. I wish I had bought Rive Gauche instead. I would have if it had been in the store or they could have ordered it for me.
This is a straight-up copy of Worth Je Reviens. It was quite clever of YSL to repackage an old classic in a (quite lovely) spray can and sell it to young, trendy, baby-boomer Cosmo Girl types. A triumph of marketing over substance. I adore Je Reviens so naturally I quite like this. This review is for the original formulation of Rive Gauche.
I only only vaguely remembered this in its original form as a strongly green galbanum chypre with that aggressive Now Woman feel (now being the 70s and early 80s).
This review is for the current formulation, as I was curious to revisit what it might be now. What I get is green soapy metallic rose with that leathery galbanum and bergamot oil. The bergamot makes it smell like a unisex traditional European cologne, the leathery aspects make it classic old style chypre and there are tarry notes in the aldehydes that remind me powerfully of Arpege.
It really does still remind me of the 80s, and it feels very unisex by today's standards. Depth is clearly missing from what I recall of the old version, but the dark green rose chypre is still there in all it's layered complexity. If you like the current version, definitely seek out the vintage for depth and punch.
It's an eh for me personally, but a thumbs up in fragrances.
This review is for the current formulation, as I was curious to revisit what it might be now. What I get is green soapy metallic rose with that leathery galbanum and bergamot oil. The bergamot makes it smell like a unisex traditional European cologne, the leathery aspects make it classic old style chypre and there are tarry notes in the aldehydes that remind me powerfully of Arpege.
It really does still remind me of the 80s, and it feels very unisex by today's standards. Depth is clearly missing from what I recall of the old version, but the dark green rose chypre is still there in all it's layered complexity. If you like the current version, definitely seek out the vintage for depth and punch.
It's an eh for me personally, but a thumbs up in fragrances.
Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche (1971) is claimed to be the greatest floral aldehyde perfume of all time by esteemed critic Luca Turin, and was deemed so important by Tom Ford in 2003 that he went through great pains having it reformulated by 2 perfumers (including the son of an original perfumer), in order to maintain its integrity without precious natural ingredients that could no longer be feasibly used. To place such value on a fragrance says a lot about it before ever sniffing the sprayer, so what's really happening on the original "left bank" of the late Mr. Laurent? Well for starters, this was made to christen the opening of the Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche boutique, opened on the left bank in Paris, originally being composed by both Michael Hy and a young Jacques Polge back when Parfums Chanel was still under stewardship of Henri Robert. Indeed, while Robert was making the final signature perfume for Gabrielle Coco Chanel in the form of Chanel No. 19 (1971), Polge & Hy were creating this "griffe" masterpiece for YSL, meant to be an eye-catching accessory to the "prêt-à-porter" collection of the same name aimed at young women. Today, the cold and metallic aldehydes and dry soapiness of Rive Gauche come across old-fashioned and grandma-ish to the noses of women used to sweet "fruitchouli" and watercolor fruity floral perfumes, but back in 1971 when this was released to the public (a year after being exclusive to the Paris boutique), this was a daringly youthful perfume in strict contrast to the powdery florals, green leathers, or thick oriental patchouli fragrances worn by gals in the 40's, 50's, and early 60's.
In a way, this was a continuation of what Yves Saint Laurent started with Y (1964), infusing inspiration from Paco Rabanne Calandre (1969) and Fidji by Guy Laroche (1966) before it. Also, if we want to include the blue collar perfume champions Avon in the conversation, we can say Charisma (1970) also presaged this by some degree, with a similar soapy aldehyde rose countenance, just minus the coldness and adding some civet musk. The introduction to Rive Gauche is really just ravishing grimness in the form of those freezing aldehydes, like an iced peach lactone with stiff bergamot sprayed from an upside-down air duster. Green galbanum leads the way into rose and jasmine savon with muguet, musky indolic ylang-ylang, and cool orris. Fans of cold iris perfumes such as Lutens Iris Silver Mist (1994) owe existence of such perfumes to Rive Gauche. The base comes on with a plonk of quality Mysore in vintage, but something else taking up the slack of the missing precious wood in 2003 bottles and beyond, but the difference is less exaggerated than lovers of the vintage would extol, although I understand they'll see differences thrice as much. Lighter woody aromachemicals do leave other notes to come up more in the modern version, but they're also there in vintage, just squished down a bit by the sandalwood. These include oakmoss (or evernyl in modern), a sliver of tonka, vetiver, and a dry amber. Rive Gauche wears very clean, and very "chypre", lasting for hours on skin with a slight bitterness and late-stage powdery "boss Bitch" feel that makes this perfect for the Miranda Priestly in everyone. Best use is work, social events, and day wear through all but the winter months.
I'd personally call something this cold and sharp unisex, but like with younger women, a lot of younger guys are going to wrinkle their nose at the total lack of sweetness and roundness this perfume presents. Even when Tom Ford had Daniela Andrier and Jacques Hy (son of Michael) extensively "repair" this in reformulation, he knew that the life of Rive Gauche depended on offering more modern options, releasing a Rive Gauche Light (2003) to accompany the re-launch, and even added a male counterpart simply called Rive Gauche pour Homme (2003). Since Opium pour Homme (1995) came 18 years late, he didn't see any problem with introducing Rive Gauche pour Homme 32 years late either, and evidently YSL would make a men's Y a whopping 53 years late too, so it's just something with Yves Saint Laurent perfumes anyway. Rive Gauche pour Homme would smell like luxury shave foam in a can, which I guess fits the aesthetic more than the original Rive Gauche, even if the point of the metal can in the first place was to express modernity and the then-futuristic "cold" metallic nature of the fragrance. All told, Rive Gauche was the opposite of the raunchy virile "liberated" perfumes postwar housewives wanted, representing a different kind of independence as their daughters, who were entering college and the workplace in record number, wished to express. What's old was new again and another wave of heavily aldehyde-based perfumes would dominate into the 70's and 80's thanks to fragrances like Rive Gauche, just with emphasis on humorless and massively green overtones, tomboyish enough for men decades later to flirt with wearing. Left bank or left-hand path? You decide. Thumbs up.
In a way, this was a continuation of what Yves Saint Laurent started with Y (1964), infusing inspiration from Paco Rabanne Calandre (1969) and Fidji by Guy Laroche (1966) before it. Also, if we want to include the blue collar perfume champions Avon in the conversation, we can say Charisma (1970) also presaged this by some degree, with a similar soapy aldehyde rose countenance, just minus the coldness and adding some civet musk. The introduction to Rive Gauche is really just ravishing grimness in the form of those freezing aldehydes, like an iced peach lactone with stiff bergamot sprayed from an upside-down air duster. Green galbanum leads the way into rose and jasmine savon with muguet, musky indolic ylang-ylang, and cool orris. Fans of cold iris perfumes such as Lutens Iris Silver Mist (1994) owe existence of such perfumes to Rive Gauche. The base comes on with a plonk of quality Mysore in vintage, but something else taking up the slack of the missing precious wood in 2003 bottles and beyond, but the difference is less exaggerated than lovers of the vintage would extol, although I understand they'll see differences thrice as much. Lighter woody aromachemicals do leave other notes to come up more in the modern version, but they're also there in vintage, just squished down a bit by the sandalwood. These include oakmoss (or evernyl in modern), a sliver of tonka, vetiver, and a dry amber. Rive Gauche wears very clean, and very "chypre", lasting for hours on skin with a slight bitterness and late-stage powdery "boss Bitch" feel that makes this perfect for the Miranda Priestly in everyone. Best use is work, social events, and day wear through all but the winter months.
I'd personally call something this cold and sharp unisex, but like with younger women, a lot of younger guys are going to wrinkle their nose at the total lack of sweetness and roundness this perfume presents. Even when Tom Ford had Daniela Andrier and Jacques Hy (son of Michael) extensively "repair" this in reformulation, he knew that the life of Rive Gauche depended on offering more modern options, releasing a Rive Gauche Light (2003) to accompany the re-launch, and even added a male counterpart simply called Rive Gauche pour Homme (2003). Since Opium pour Homme (1995) came 18 years late, he didn't see any problem with introducing Rive Gauche pour Homme 32 years late either, and evidently YSL would make a men's Y a whopping 53 years late too, so it's just something with Yves Saint Laurent perfumes anyway. Rive Gauche pour Homme would smell like luxury shave foam in a can, which I guess fits the aesthetic more than the original Rive Gauche, even if the point of the metal can in the first place was to express modernity and the then-futuristic "cold" metallic nature of the fragrance. All told, Rive Gauche was the opposite of the raunchy virile "liberated" perfumes postwar housewives wanted, representing a different kind of independence as their daughters, who were entering college and the workplace in record number, wished to express. What's old was new again and another wave of heavily aldehyde-based perfumes would dominate into the 70's and 80's thanks to fragrances like Rive Gauche, just with emphasis on humorless and massively green overtones, tomboyish enough for men decades later to flirt with wearing. Left bank or left-hand path? You decide. Thumbs up.
This smells much like a stereotyped powdery vintage floral mix, with predominant rose and lemongrass opening that goes towards metallic aldehydes and soap with time.
I'd like to sample the original version and understand what makes it special, even if I find it beautiful now.
Adding: why am I hating the bottle so much?
I'd like to sample the original version and understand what makes it special, even if I find it beautiful now.
Adding: why am I hating the bottle so much?
In the early '80s I was a dedicated wearer of YSL's "Y", but one sniff of Rive Gauche and I remember how prominent it was at the perfume counters and on my friends. And this is in that same green citrusy rose family as YSL's "Y", but with a much bigger rose. This is the scent that Don Draper's second wife would have worn, with her French-Bohemian chic and her batwing Pucci dresses.
I'm getting a Parisian-soap sense from this, and finding it captivating, even though I usually dislike soapiness. There's something so retro about this soap lifted by aldehydes, kind of like original Ivoire. This is also making me recall Rabanne's "Calandre", another great favorite of mine in this era, with its soap-and-metal accord. It's interesting that so many reviewers can't detect the rose here; to me it's large, and I sense none of the other florals some describe. There's nothing sweet about the floral aspect, in fact it's rather spiky. I can picture this fitting right in with the Le Smoking era of androgynous Saint Laurent fashions, even though I'd only ever associated "Y" with those images at the time. In fact, this current version would make a great casual office scent for a man today.
What I'm sniffing is a contemporary version, and Turin gives pretty high marks to the 2003 renovation of this scent, which I presume this is, but I'd still like to experience that resinous quality that he says gave the older stuff a darker background. And other accounts note that there was a sizeable plonk of sandalwood in the vintage aluminum can version.
Sadly, the two sprays I applied had almost vanished after 90 minutes. I'm going to reapply just to experience that green citrus/rose again and to see if I can find any oakmoss in the drydown. But I already know I'm going to add this to my vintage hunting list, and I regret not giving this scent more attention in its heyday.
I'm getting a Parisian-soap sense from this, and finding it captivating, even though I usually dislike soapiness. There's something so retro about this soap lifted by aldehydes, kind of like original Ivoire. This is also making me recall Rabanne's "Calandre", another great favorite of mine in this era, with its soap-and-metal accord. It's interesting that so many reviewers can't detect the rose here; to me it's large, and I sense none of the other florals some describe. There's nothing sweet about the floral aspect, in fact it's rather spiky. I can picture this fitting right in with the Le Smoking era of androgynous Saint Laurent fashions, even though I'd only ever associated "Y" with those images at the time. In fact, this current version would make a great casual office scent for a man today.
What I'm sniffing is a contemporary version, and Turin gives pretty high marks to the 2003 renovation of this scent, which I presume this is, but I'd still like to experience that resinous quality that he says gave the older stuff a darker background. And other accounts note that there was a sizeable plonk of sandalwood in the vintage aluminum can version.
Sadly, the two sprays I applied had almost vanished after 90 minutes. I'm going to reapply just to experience that green citrus/rose again and to see if I can find any oakmoss in the drydown. But I already know I'm going to add this to my vintage hunting list, and I regret not giving this scent more attention in its heyday.
Mid-1980s edt: This is a nice, wearable floral, perfectly unisex. It smells like it uses high-quality ingredients that are no longer available or no longer used, and that give it an effortless refinement.
I had this in the late 80's, and loved it. It was a fabulous scent that was reformulated and, in my opinion, ruined when I came across it years later. I remember feeling very sophisticated and "grown-up" when I bought it. I was lucky enough to receive a sample of the 86 stuff (thanks purecaramel!) and it was wonderful to try it again. After three hours of wear, I was enveloped in a lovely, soft veil of creamy jasmine and gardenia, with a touch of powder. There was also a very faint indolic note not enough to ruin it, in fact it just made it more intriguing. The bergamot and the green notes add just the right amount of tang, which stops this from being too powdery sweet. I don't get much of the peach, but I do get a bit of the rose. One of our students came in to my office today and straight away said oh, you smell soooo good!, so the sillage is obviously good. I seem to remember this being a bit spicier on me way back when though, but ugh, I'm so old now that it could just be my memory playing tricks on me ;) This is a good one, and the staying power is right up there 11 hours and still going and still lovely. Apparently it has been reformulated again is that true? Has it improved from its first re-formulation? Would love to hear your thoughts.
Rive Gauche, Mmmmmm!!
1970's. At the time, it had a big dollop of Sandalwood.
I have been told that reformulations killed it.
Well as luck would have it a bottle of this gem from the American years 86-92 I was able to find. Those old Butane bottles are the best. This scent's all as I remember. Adelehyde blast, almost metallic Bergamot. Balanced, Billowing Bouquet of Jasmine and Muguet and Non cloying Rose. Gosh this is gorgeous! All plush in the drydown of Quality Wood, Oakmoss and Savon.
I can wear this! And will!!
Thumbs up for the Vintage!
1970's. At the time, it had a big dollop of Sandalwood.
I have been told that reformulations killed it.
Well as luck would have it a bottle of this gem from the American years 86-92 I was able to find. Those old Butane bottles are the best. This scent's all as I remember. Adelehyde blast, almost metallic Bergamot. Balanced, Billowing Bouquet of Jasmine and Muguet and Non cloying Rose. Gosh this is gorgeous! All plush in the drydown of Quality Wood, Oakmoss and Savon.
I can wear this! And will!!
Thumbs up for the Vintage!
An odd green floral/wood scent that is pleasant, but unremarkable.
Turin gave it 5 stars and named it a "reference rose." The rose is very very faint and gives us the green note. It combines with peach, muguet and jasmine and floats above "dark resins," such as vetiver, sandalwood and musk.
Top notes: Peach, Bergamot
Heart notes: Rose, Jasmine, Muguet, Geranium, Orris, Ylang
Base notes: Vetiver, Tonka, Sandalwood, Musk, Oak Moss, Amber
Certainly nice, but there are better green roses out there (Jacomo's Silences, Dior's Diorling and Laurent's own initial scent, Y, come to mind).
Turin gave it 5 stars and named it a "reference rose." The rose is very very faint and gives us the green note. It combines with peach, muguet and jasmine and floats above "dark resins," such as vetiver, sandalwood and musk.
Top notes: Peach, Bergamot
Heart notes: Rose, Jasmine, Muguet, Geranium, Orris, Ylang
Base notes: Vetiver, Tonka, Sandalwood, Musk, Oak Moss, Amber
Certainly nice, but there are better green roses out there (Jacomo's Silences, Dior's Diorling and Laurent's own initial scent, Y, come to mind).
I got married in 1982 in this scent. I can't wear a lot of scents because they cause a migraine but this one was nice. I hope they did not mess it up when they re did it in 2003. I have not seen this perfume since my wedding bottle became empty.
Body chemistry mattersThis scent smelled AMAZING on my friend. Soft, rich and creamy, with a hint of soap. On me, it took on a chemical face with a raw edge that lasted for hours. I finally gave it away. Ah, chemistry. Pros: Long lastingCons:
Metal detergentI had heard so much about this fragrance and was so keen to smell it. At first sniff, I thought it was amazing and different (I love the unconventional). Fast forward about two hours and all I could smell, was metallic floor cleaner, and almost threw up on the spot. What happened??? "My nose" I thought , maybe I'm coming down with a cold. So I went for another round about 2 weeks later, convinced I would find magic. There was that floor cleaner again, with a double dose of metal - just horrible. I'm wishing I could sample the original formula so I could join the fan club. But not with this one I'm afraid.Pros: NoneCons: Doesn't smell pleasant at all, very sterile."
Fresh floral with wood - well balancedA hesperidic fresh opening with vetiver that is aldehyde-powered in a big way turns into a floral drydown. I get a lot of magnolia and jasmine, but it is never overly sweet or cloying and retains it's freshness. Later a woody component predominates, but I get no real oak moss on my skin. Decent projection and four hours of longevity. Good stuff.
This may have been my first "adult" fragrance, after I graduated from "Charlie" in the early 70s. I haven't used it since then, but I did enjoy it and felt "grown up" and classy using it. Definitely a "date fragrance" for me in those days.
I remember this fragrance standing on the side of Opium and Shalimar on my mum's desk in the large bedroom of my parents. My dad has worn for years and years the incomparable Azzaro Pour Homme. Those fragrances were my olfactory vitamins as a child. I remember Rive Gauche as the smell of a sophisticated lady still in front of the mirror in a toilette of a parisian hotel early at morning before to go out for shopping. The fragrance was a bit metallic, hesperidic, angular, aromatic and mossy-rooty with a remarcable sophistication of flowers (starring the rose) able to cut the metal-laundry-toilette-bath soap smell with femininity and class. The typical and recognizable smell was produced by the agreement of hesperides, vetiver, aldehydes, greens, woodsy and aromatic notes (galbanum, oakmoss, olibanum). The aromatic feel was endly bracing and invigorating even due a sort of cool power of aldehydes together with an almost balsamic and resinous dark incensey final trait. Nowadays the smell of the fragrance you find on shelves of parfumeries has really changed and is stressed on florals and powdery woods being definitely lost that legacy of laundry-metal and aromatic incese that made the features and the fortunes of the old formula. A disappointment.
When I first put Rive Gauche on I thought it might be a complete dud on me because it seemed to completely "disappear." I just wasn't getting any notes coming off of me at all, so I thought: "okay, this is way too light for me and I can't wear it. So much for floral aldehydes. Oh well. *sigh*"
Then, after maybe 20 minutes or so I started to notice the air filling with a beautiful floral scent, and pretty soon I was just completely enveloped in it!
This is a gorgeous floral aldehyde which (in my opinion) was much more "well done" and balanced than Y. In the case of Y by Yves Saint Laurent, I felt that some of the notes were a little too "sharp" and "harsh" to the extent that they were irritating my nose!
With Rive Gauche, I don't get that at all despite the aldehydes. It's just a divine perfume, both in the bottle and on my skin. I highly recommend this one to pretty much everyone, there is not much to dislike about this fragrance. It might possibly even be one of the best floral aldehydes ever made.
Then, after maybe 20 minutes or so I started to notice the air filling with a beautiful floral scent, and pretty soon I was just completely enveloped in it!
This is a gorgeous floral aldehyde which (in my opinion) was much more "well done" and balanced than Y. In the case of Y by Yves Saint Laurent, I felt that some of the notes were a little too "sharp" and "harsh" to the extent that they were irritating my nose!
With Rive Gauche, I don't get that at all despite the aldehydes. It's just a divine perfume, both in the bottle and on my skin. I highly recommend this one to pretty much everyone, there is not much to dislike about this fragrance. It might possibly even be one of the best floral aldehydes ever made.
I came to Rive Gauche a bit late in the game in the early 1990s, smelling it on a friend who had a perfect balance of chic and practicality. She had a discerning, unpretentious knack for picking from high and low style. She wore Rive Gauche and it fit her perfectly.
Recently I wrote that I preferred Paco Rabanne's Calandre to RG. Call me sometimey, but today I prefer RG. Their similarities allow their differences to come into view clearly. Calandre is an aldehydic rose floral that winds up with a vaguely bitter green chypre drydown that I wouldn't have expected at the outset. It's a beautiful trajectory over time. RG's aldehydes last longer and move the rose into a sweet, resinous shadow. Despite Calandre's reference to metal (chrome grill), RG has more of a metallic feel. It's cool with a bit of that flinty smell shared by metal and stone.
Like all the rose chypres, Rive Gauche has been reformulated. I have a EDT version from the 1970s and one from the early 2000s. The early version is very much of its time: slightly more powdery, a bit less resinous. At the time it might have been seen as a more 'youthful' floral aldehydic chypre, but today it has the same loaded vernacular (soapy and powdery = ladylike and prim) as Arpège, Je Reviens and Calèche. (Heresy alert.) I prefer the more recent version.
Recently I wrote that I preferred Paco Rabanne's Calandre to RG. Call me sometimey, but today I prefer RG. Their similarities allow their differences to come into view clearly. Calandre is an aldehydic rose floral that winds up with a vaguely bitter green chypre drydown that I wouldn't have expected at the outset. It's a beautiful trajectory over time. RG's aldehydes last longer and move the rose into a sweet, resinous shadow. Despite Calandre's reference to metal (chrome grill), RG has more of a metallic feel. It's cool with a bit of that flinty smell shared by metal and stone.
Like all the rose chypres, Rive Gauche has been reformulated. I have a EDT version from the 1970s and one from the early 2000s. The early version is very much of its time: slightly more powdery, a bit less resinous. At the time it might have been seen as a more 'youthful' floral aldehydic chypre, but today it has the same loaded vernacular (soapy and powdery = ladylike and prim) as Arpège, Je Reviens and Calèche. (Heresy alert.) I prefer the more recent version.
I wasn't aware that YSL had reformulated this fragrance and I'm rather disappointed that I'll never get to compare the original to this scent.
I'm usually back and forth with aldehydes. In some fragrances I love the powdery and soapy quality that it gives, while in other scents, (for example, Chanel No.5), I hate how it smells sharp and unpleasant.
When I first sprayed Rive Gauche I immediately classed it as a sharp and unpleasant aldehydic fragrance. It was so strong and nose-burning, that it was almost like a bomb had hit me right in the nostrils.
I quickly stuffed this sample into my pocket in case I became nauseated from the scent and soon forgot about it. When I finally got home I emptied my pockets and wondered what smelt so elegant, rich and flowery. It was Rive Gauche.
When the aldehydic opening softens, the scent becomes feminine and romantic. The rose note is delicate with the gardenia, magnolia and jasmine creating such a beautiful floral blend.
It has that delightful, classic type scent which I love. It's difficult to re-create these types of scents which hold so much class, sophistication and elegance in a bottle.
Although I feel as if I'm a little too young to start wearing Rive Gauche, I can always look forward to growing older in hopes of one day owning this wonderful scent.
I'm usually back and forth with aldehydes. In some fragrances I love the powdery and soapy quality that it gives, while in other scents, (for example, Chanel No.5), I hate how it smells sharp and unpleasant.
When I first sprayed Rive Gauche I immediately classed it as a sharp and unpleasant aldehydic fragrance. It was so strong and nose-burning, that it was almost like a bomb had hit me right in the nostrils.
I quickly stuffed this sample into my pocket in case I became nauseated from the scent and soon forgot about it. When I finally got home I emptied my pockets and wondered what smelt so elegant, rich and flowery. It was Rive Gauche.
When the aldehydic opening softens, the scent becomes feminine and romantic. The rose note is delicate with the gardenia, magnolia and jasmine creating such a beautiful floral blend.
It has that delightful, classic type scent which I love. It's difficult to re-create these types of scents which hold so much class, sophistication and elegance in a bottle.
Although I feel as if I'm a little too young to start wearing Rive Gauche, I can always look forward to growing older in hopes of one day owning this wonderful scent.
I remember receiving this as a Christmas present from my parents. Knowing how I loved scents, they thought that would be a wonderful addition to my humble collection. Unfortunately, it gave me an instant headache and the scent itself repulsed me. I couldn't get it off my skin fast enough. If I ran across it today I'd probably give it another chance to see if anything's changed.
I remember once in the mid 70's my family was on a trip. We were hauling a trailer and got lost in rural Pennsylvania. We were starving and ended up at this fancy French restaurant in the middle of nowhere. There was a copy of "Letters to Penthouse Forum" in the Mens room. Inside was a letter from a man who was writing to ask the "forum" that as he felt "Rive Gauche" smelled exactly like "p***y"; he was wondering if this was in fact the intention of Msr. St. Laurent.
I really don't remember the reply.
I wonder if that man had written his letter to Penthouse on the back of a French postcard. I later found the magazine in my father's sock drawer.
I really don't remember the reply.
I wonder if that man had written his letter to Penthouse on the back of a French postcard. I later found the magazine in my father's sock drawer.