Antilope by Parfums Weil (1928)

Launched in 1928, Antilope by Parfums Weil emerged during a time of great artistic and cultural vibrancy. The perfume would later be trademarked in 1931, signaling the company’s commitment to establishing it as a central pillar of their fragrance line. The choice of the name “Antilope” was no coincidence—Weil had made its name not only as a perfume house, but initially as a respected furrier. The brothers frequently worked with antelope hide, a luxurious and supple material prized in fine garments and accessories. Naming a fragrance after this graceful animal was a seamless extension of the house’s identity, uniting their heritage in furs with their growing reputation in perfumery.

The word Antilope is the French word for “antelope”, pronounced ahn-tee-lope (roughly: "ahn-tee-lohp"). It conjures images of agility, refinement, and exotic landscapes. The antelope, a creature known for its elegance, speed, and delicate beauty, serves as a fitting symbol for a woman who is poised, elusive, and alluring. In perfume form, “Antilope” might suggest something lithe, free-spirited, and mysterious—a scent not overpowering, but enduring in its presence.

The late 1920s were part of the vibrant cultural era known as the Années Folles (the “Crazy Years”) in France or, more broadly, the Roaring Twenties. This was a period of artistic revolution, jazz music, cinematic innovation, and loosening societal norms, particularly for women. Fashion had shifted dramatically from the restrictive silhouettes of the previous generation toward more relaxed, fluid lines. Women wore drop-waist dresses, bobbed their hair, and embraced modernism. Perfumery reflected this cultural shift—fragrances became bolder, more abstract, with the increasing use of synthetic materials such as aldehydes, which allowed perfumers to evoke complex moods rather than just imitate flowers.

Into this sophisticated and liberated landscape entered Antilope, created by perfumer Claude Fraysse. It was a chypre fragrance with a distinctly aldehydic floral-woody profile—a genre that suited the modern woman of the time: intelligent, confident, and effortlessly stylish. It opened with a sparkling aldehydic brightness, which gave way to a soft floral heart of jasmine and orange blossom, creating a sense of polish and femininity. The base notes of precious woods, patchouli, and a subtle ambergris accord lent warmth, sensuality, and depth. The presence of leather, primarily constructed with quinolines, gave the fragrance a slightly animalic, skin-like nuance—tying it back to the furrier origins of the house.

Though leather notes became especially prominent in perfumery from the mid-1940s to 1960s, Weil’s use of them in Antilope during the 1920s was relatively ahead of its time. This gave the scent a tactile, refined edge. While the fragrance aligned with the chypre and aldehydic trends made popular by perfumes such as Chanel No. 5 (1921), Antilope carved its own niche. It was not simply a floral or a leather fragrance, but rather an elegant, carefully balanced statement that spoke to the tastes of sophisticated women who saw perfume as part of their identity—something worn with the same confidence as a couture gown or a fur coat.

For the woman of 1928, Antilope would have suggested independence and worldliness. It was modern, yet natural; bold, yet elegant. In scent, the name Antilope evoked a graceful femininity, both reserved and untamed—precisely the tension that made it unforgettable.

 

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Antilope by Weil is classified as an aldehydic floral woody chypre fragrance for women. It starts out with an aldehydic top, followed by an elegant floral heart of jasmine and orange blossom, resting on a warm base of precious wood whose aroma is deepened by patchouli and a very finely tender note of ambergris.

• Top notes: aldehydes, Calabrian bergamot, Seville orange, Italian tangerine, Grasse neroli, Roman chamomile, Persian galbanum, green note accord, Levantine acacia farnesiana, spices 
• Middle notes: Dutch hyacinth, Florentine iris, Tunisian orange blossom absolute, Nepalese rose absolute, Grasse rose de Mai absolute, Algerian narcissus, lily of the valley, hydroxycitronellal, Manila ylang ylang, Tuscan violet, Riviera jasmine absolute, Hungarian clary sage
• Base notes: Malaysian patchouli, Mysore sandalwood, leather, Atlas cedar, Abyssinian civet, Tibetan musk, Egyptian vetiver, ambergris, Tyrolean oakmoss

Scent Profile:

From the very first breath of Antilope, the composition unfurls like the opening of a curtain to a stage where nature and artifice blend with seamless sophistication. The aldehydes greet you in a dazzling burst—bright, soapy, and effervescent—like sunlight caught in a crystal prism. These synthetic molecules, particularly C11 and C12 aldehydes, were revolutionary in early 20th-century perfumery, offering a lift and shimmer that natural ingredients alone could not achieve. They lend Antilope its airborne sparkle, diffusing lightness across the composition and creating space for what follows.

Immediately beneath that aldehydic gleam lies a fresh, citrus-green shimmer. Calabrian bergamot, with its zesty, slightly floral character, adds a nuanced bitterness—this oil, prized for its complex profile, is cooler and more refined than its counterparts grown in other regions. It’s followed by the piquant sharpness of Seville orange, a tart, aromatic note that’s both invigorating and rich, suggestive of the Andalusian sun-soaked groves from which it hails. Italian tangerine, softer and juicier, offers a delicate contrast, its sugary roundness playing against the sharper facets of citrus. These fruit notes, together, create a glistening mosaic of color and energy.

Into this orchard strolls Grasse neroli, a beautifully bitter-sweet floral distilled from the blossoms of bitter orange trees grown in the heart of French perfume country. It’s joined by the hay-like, slightly apple-sweet tones of Roman chamomile, whose calming presence softens the sharper citrus notes. A subtle earthy shadow is cast by Persian galbanum, its green-resinous sharpness slicing through the sweetness and evoking the scent of crushed stems and early morning walks through dewy gardens.

Supporting this verdancy is a green accord that conjures freshly snipped herbs and springtime foliage, layered with the powdery, sun-warmed aroma of Levantine acacia farnesiana—a honeyed, mimosa-like bloom that adds a golden glow. Though unspecified, the spices within this opening may include a dash of coriander or clove, adding just the barest warmth and complexity—more like whispers in the breeze than outright declarations.

As the top notes recede, a luxuriant floral heart begins to blossom, unfolding with the tactile softness of velvet. Dutch hyacinth offers a cool, almost waxy green sweetness—floral, yes, but with an aquatic crispness. The Florentine iris, sourced from the rhizomes of the plant and aged for several years, introduces a powdery, rooty elegance with a woody-violet tone, grounding the composition with aristocratic restraint.

The orange blossom absolute from Tunisia is heady, narcotic, and luminous, blending seamlessly with the Grasse jasmine—intensely rich and animalic—grown in the same sun-drenched fields that inspired perfumers for generations. Riviera jasmine, in absolute form, retains the dusky, creamy depth of the flower, heightened by the slight indolic bite that hints at sensuality. Alongside it is Nepalese rose absolute, deeply honeyed and spicy, paired with the more romantic, tea-rose nuance of Grasse rose de Mai, a queen among flowers known for its tender, multifaceted beauty.

Algerian narcissus adds a narcotic, green-leather note with a slight bitterness, reminiscent of the wild floral fields of North Africa. The lily of the valley adds dewy brightness through hydroxycitronellal, a synthetic compound that recreates the elusive scent of this delicate bloom, which cannot be extracted naturally. It imparts a crystalline floral freshness that makes the bouquet sparkle like morning dew.

Manila ylang ylang contributes its banana-cream richness and tropical languor—exotic, slightly spicy, and narcotic. Tuscan violet brings a dusky purple facet with its green, powdery softness, while Hungarian clary sage provides a musky, slightly leathery herbaceousness, reinforcing the naturalism of the heart with its dry warmth.

As the scent descends into its base, Antilope finds its deepest expression. The Malaysian patchouli reveals its earthy, camphoraceous edge—darker and damper than Indonesian types—with the distinctive scent of freshly turned soil and aged wood. Mysore sandalwood, now rare and highly protected, adds a buttery, milky warmth that smooths every harsh angle, its quality instantly recognizable by its sweetness and unparalleled softness.

The leather note, created largely from quinolines, brings a refined smokiness and animalic depth. Quinolines are synthetic compounds that mimic the sharp, dry-tanned aroma of fine leather. Here, they bring texture and drama, conjuring images of suede gloves and fur-lined capes. Atlas cedar contributes dry, woody elegance, its scent reminiscent of pencil shavings and sun-baked woodlands, while Egyptian vetiver adds a grassy, rooty smokiness, grounding the fragrance in the warm sands of the Nile.

The sensuality deepens with Tibetan musk and Abyssinian civet—ingredients once derived from animals, now typically replicated through synthetic means. These lend a lingering skin-like warmth and carnal allure without veering into vulgarity. The ambergris, or its modern interpretation, adds a saline, mineralic note that diffuses the base, extending the perfume's longevity and creating a feeling of depth and diffusion—as though the fragrance is being exhaled by the skin itself.

Finally, the cool mossiness of Tyrolean oakmoss, earthy and slightly bitter, wraps the entire composition in a shadowy green cloak. It binds the wood, leather, musk, and florals together into a seamless chypre harmony—dark, elegant, and eternal.

In Antilope, Weil offered not just a fragrance, but a portrait—of movement, elegance, and memory. Each note feels deliberately chosen, balanced between the natural and the synthetic, the fresh and the dusky, the wild and the tamed. It is a perfume that invites the wearer into a secret garden—one both grounded in the past and vividly alive in the imagination.

Bottles:

Baccarat flacon below:

c1954 ad

c1960 ad

c1961

Fate of the Fragrance:

Antilope by Weil, originally launched in 1928 and trademarked in 1931, experienced a resurgence in popularity after the end of World War II in 1945. With France finally embracing peace and renewal after years of conflict, the perfume was reintroduced to a society eager for beauty, luxury, and emotional connection. Marketed as "le parfum de la femme aimée"—“the perfume of the beloved woman”—Antilope captured the spirit of romantic postwar optimism. It spoke to women rebuilding their lives and identities, offering a fragrant touch of elegance and femininity in an era of profound change.

The postwar years were a golden moment for French perfumery, with Antilope positioned as a fragrance both timeless and modern. Its soft, woody florals—centered around a tender jasmine, rose, and orange blossom bouquet—were designed to enhance the natural radiance of blonde or red-haired women, as mentioned in L'Amour de l'art (1950). This carefully chosen blend rode on a rare woody accord, one that allowed the floralcy to glow without ever turning powdery or cloying. "Young and ardent," Antilope was praised for its sillage: it lingered delicately, never overwhelming, creating an aura rather than a trail.

By 1954, Woman’s Guide to Europe listed Antilope as an essential stop for perfume lovers in Paris, naming it specifically for blondes and titian-haired women, reinforcing its image as refined, radiant, and subtly sensual. Harper’s Bazaar (1956) praised its crisp, woodsy character and its compatibility with luxury furs—a nod to the house of Weil’s roots in haute fourrure. The same year, The New Yorker highlighted Antilope in Weil’s new cut-glass purse-sized spray bottle—further proof that the fragrance had become a stylish staple for elegant women.

Antilope’s status only grew. In 1965, it was selected by the French Minister of Tourism as a symbol of hospitality and national pride. A total of 150,000 bottles were gifted to foreign tourists arriving at Orly airport, part of a campaign to welcome international visitors with a gesture of fragrant charm and French savoir-faire. In this act, Antilope became not just a perfume, but an ambassador of France.

Throughout the 1960s, it remained a bestseller. Country Fair (1968) described it as the standout among Weil's luxurious bath line, from bath oils and foams to talcs and lotions—especially when paired with Satin Antilope, an after-bath treatment that enveloped the wearer in a veil of gentle sophistication. By 1969, Antilope had become Weil’s most requested fragrance, the crown jewel of their collection.

Each mention across decades paints a consistent picture of Antilope: timeless, romantic, and refined. Whether worn with a fur stole in the 1950s or given as a diplomatic gift in the 1960s, it remained a fragrance that evoked elegance and tenderness—truly the perfume of the beloved woman.

Over the decades, Antilope by Weil has undergone several reformulations, most significantly influenced by changes in international fragrance regulations. Chief among these is the International Fragrance Association (IFRA), which sets global safety standards for the use of certain raw materials in perfumery. While these regulations are meant to protect consumers from potential allergens and skin sensitizers, they have had a profound impact on the character of many beloved vintage perfumes—including Antilope.

One of the most notable changes in Antilope is the reduction or elimination of oakmoss, a key component of traditional chypre fragrances. Oakmoss imparts a damp, earthy, slightly bitter-green facet that grounds florals and gives them complexity and depth. Due to its potential to cause allergic skin reactions, IFRA has severely limited its use, requiring it to be stripped of certain allergenic molecules or replaced altogether with synthetic alternatives. Additionally, restrictions on natural musk and civet have removed much of the original animalic warmth and tenacity that once defined the base of the fragrance. These materials are now either banned or used only in trace amounts due to ethical concerns or sensitization risks, and are often substituted with modern synthetics that mimic their effects—but rarely with the same depth or nuance.

Vintage Antilope, especially the version available before the 1980s, opens with a sparkling aldehydic rush—effervescent, airy, and slightly soapy—tempered by a blend of citrus oils and a hint of warming spice. The aldehydes in the vintage formula are crisp and elegant, creating a soft halo around the perfume. As it unfolds, the heart of jasmine, rose, orris, lily of the valley, and violet emerges in a creamy, romantic manner. The floral bouquet feels full-bodied and intricately layered, with orris providing a buttery, powdery softness and violet adding a nostalgic, candied sweetness. The base is where vintage Antilope truly excels: it is lush with vetiver’s dry earthiness, cedar’s resinous wood, and a delicate but discernible touch of leather and musk. There is an unmistakable sense of vintage warmth—both clean and animalic—that lingers on fabric and skin for hours.

In contrast, the modern version of Antilope, while retaining the skeleton of the original structure, feels more translucent and less dimensional. The aldehydes remain in place but are sharper, with less of the champagne-like fizz that vintage lovers remember. The floral heart is still recognizably Antilope, but thinner—almost as if viewed through a pane of glass. The jasmine and rose are now likely reconstructed with aroma molecules such as hedione and phenylethyl alcohol, offering brightness but not the creamy texture of natural absolutes. Orris, once a costly and luxurious material, may now be largely synthetic or omitted altogether, reducing the soft powdery finish that once gave the perfume its elegance.

The modern base is smoother, drier, and cleaner—characterized by a synthetic amber accord, white musk, and iso-e super-like woodiness in place of the animalics and aged resins. While these materials increase wearability and stability, especially in compliance with IFRA standards, they lack the richness and vintage soul of the original. The musk is faint and non-animalic, and the leather, once slightly bitter and suede-like, is now a soft suggestion rather than a pronounced note.

In sum, while both versions of Antilope are recognizably related—sharing the same floral-chypre DNA—the vintage is a lush, romantic, and evocative composition, filled with texture, mystery, and sensual warmth. The reformulated version is lighter, cleaner, and more in line with contemporary fragrance preferences and regulations—but it lacks the complexity and emotional depth that made Antilope a cherished favorite across generations. For those who knew the original, the reformulation may feel like a ghost of what once was: graceful, but missing the soul.

• Top notes: aldehydes, spice note, citrus oils
• Middle notes: jasmine, rose, orris, lily of the valley, violet
• Base notes: cedar, vetiver, leather, musk, amber accord