Danger by Ciro (1938)

Danger by Parfums Ciro, introduced in 1938, emerged at a time when perfumery—and indeed the world—was poised on the brink of dramatic change. The name Danger (pronounced "DAHN-zher" in French, though nearly identical in English) immediately commands attention. It suggests both seduction and peril, a sense of allure that tempts while warning of its potency. In French, the word carries the same meaning as in English, but in the context of luxury perfume, it takes on a poetic resonance—an invitation to flirt with the forbidden. The mere utterance of Danger evokes imagery of shadowed boudoirs, a flicker of red lipstick, and a confident woman whose presence is as captivating as it is unpredictable.

The late 1930s was a period suspended between elegance and uncertainty. Europe was recovering from the lingering effects of the Great Depression, yet the glamour of Art Deco refinement still lingered in fashion and design. Haute couture houses under designers like Schiaparelli, Mainbocher, and Chanel emphasized strong silhouettes, accentuated waists, and rich, tactile fabrics—velvet, silk, and especially fur, which was both fashionable and symbolic of luxury. In perfumery, this was the golden age of opulent orientals and powdery florals, creations that matched the sophistication and confidence of modern women who were asserting their individuality. Fragrances of this era, like Shalimar by Guerlain or Tabu by Dana, reveled in sensuality and warmth, embodying a quiet rebellion against austerity and social constraint.

It was in this climate that Ciro introduced Danger. The name itself felt deliberately provocative, and for women of the time, it represented a new kind of feminine daring. To wear Danger was to embrace confidence and mystery—to be the woman who didn’t simply attract attention but commanded it. The marketing recommendation that it be worn “with furs” and “in winter” speaks to its intensity and warmth, a fragrance meant to envelop rather than merely adorn. The pairing of a luxurious fur stole and a rich oriental perfume symbolized indulgence at a time when the world was tightening its grip on normalcy.

In olfactory terms, Danger translated its name into scent through spice, heat, and sensual depth. Its oriental floral structure—laden with amber, spice, and a bold lavender note—was both elegant and unconventional. Lavender, typically associated with men’s fragrances or fresh colognes, lent a sharp aromatic contrast to the sweetness of florals and resins, giving Danger a bold, almost androgynous sophistication. This juxtaposition was striking for 1938 and set it apart from the purely sweet or powdery florals that dominated the market.

In the context of its contemporaries, Danger stood both within and beyond the prevailing trends. It aligned with the luxurious, spicy oriental fragrances popular in the late 1930s, yet its composition suggested a certain audacity—an edge that mirrored the assertive, modern woman of the era. It was not merely a perfume of beauty, but one of character and intent, designed for a woman unafraid of intrigue, admiration, or risk.

To wear Danger in 1938 was to make a statement: that allure itself can be powerful, that the thrill of temptation can be worn like an invisible accessory. It was perfume as persona—dangerous not because it threatened, but because it bewitched.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Danger is classified as an oriental floral (spicy amber) fragrance for women. It  was described as a rich, heavy, very spicy sweet, floral oriental with a dominant lavender note, advised to be worn during winter and with furs.

• Top notes: bergamot, honey, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, apricot
• Middle notes: rose, mint, pepper, tuberose, orange blossom, violet, heliotrope, lavender, carnation, lilac
• Base notes: civet, incense, wormwood, oakmoss, musk, orris, tobacco, tonka bean, sandalwood, benzoin, ambergris, patchouli, vanilla, vetiver

Scent Profile:

To experience Danger by Parfums Ciro is to encounter an olfactory symphony that unfolds with the richness of a velvet curtain parting on a candlelit stage. From the first breath, the perfume declares itself with warmth and opulence, the kind of fragrance that drapes itself luxuriously around the wearer rather than sitting politely upon the skin.

The opening is a golden flare of bergamot, its citrus brightness softened by the languid sweetness of honey. Bergamot, sourced from the sunlit groves of Calabria, carries a delicate balance of freshness and bitterness—its natural molecules like linalyl acetate and limonene lend a sparkling top that shimmers before melting into the nectarous depth of honey. The honey introduces a resinous, animalic sweetness rich in phenylacetic acid and benzaldehyde, evoking beeswax, sun-warmed flowers, and golden amber. 

The warmth deepens as cinnamon and cloves emerge—spices that intertwine with the sweetness like glowing embers. Ceylon cinnamon contributes a soft, woody heat, while clove oil, dominated by eugenol, lends a narcotic spiciness with hints of smoke and carnation. A breath of ginger adds an electric snap—its zingiberene molecules creating a fresh, slightly lemony heat that feels alive on the skin. Apricot rounds the opening with its velvety fruitiness, the note achieved through gamma-undecalactone, a creamy lactone that brings to mind ripe orchard fruit and soft suede.

As the perfume blooms, the heart reveals a complex tapestry of florals—rose, tuberose, violet, heliotrope, orange blossom, carnation, lavender, mint, and lilac—each woven seamlessly into one another. The Bulgarian rose, rich in citronellol and geraniol, breathes warmth and depth, while tuberose adds heady sensuality, its creamy white petals tinged with indolic sweetness. The violet note, constructed from ionone alpha, lends its signature powdery, wistful coolness, pairing beautifully with heliotrope, whose heliotropin (piperonal) contributes almond and cherry facets—sweet but airy. 

Orange blossom, distilled from Tunisian neroli, sparkles with linalool and nerolidol, bringing an almost honeyed effervescence. The lavender, surprisingly dominant in this composition, tempers the lush florals with aromatic clarity. Grown in Provence, this lavender is rich in linalool and coumarin, giving it a dual personality—clean and herbal yet soft and warm, harmonizing with the spices and woods that follow. Mint lends an unexpected green coolness, its menthol content sharpening the florals’ sweetness, while carnation contributes a spicy floral bite, echoing the clove from the top. Lilac, a delicate accord recreated with synthetics such as hydroxycitronellal, introduces a dewy floral note that suggests innocence amidst decadence.

The base of Danger is where the fragrance becomes fully enveloping—an ambered, resinous warmth that lingers like perfumed fur against the skin. Civet, once derived from the civet cat, adds an unmistakable sensual depth through its natural civetone molecule, now replicated synthetically for ethical use. It merges with musk, smooth and velvety, creating the sensation of soft skin beneath the perfume’s glow. Incense rises through the heart, resinous and slightly smoky, its olibanum molecules lending mystery, while wormwood (rich in thujone) introduces a shadowed green bitterness that keeps the sweetness in balance. Oakmoss, earthy and forest-like, contributes its evernyl and atranol tones, anchoring the composition with mossy darkness. The orris, distilled from Florentine iris rhizomes, brings powdery, suede-like richness through its irones, which give the perfume a cool, aristocratic poise.

Among the balsamic and gourmand undertones, tobacco, tonka bean, and vanilla intertwine—each contributing warmth and comfort. The tonka, high in coumarin, lends its familiar almond-hay sweetness, while vanilla and benzoin add resinous depth and a creamy, ambered tone. Ambergris, now replicated synthetically through ambroxan, introduces a radiant, diffusive quality that gives the fragrance its glowing persistence. Patchouli, dark and earthy, anchors everything with its camphorous sweetness, while sandalwood—preferably from Mysore, India, known for its high santalol content—adds a smooth, milky woodiness that rounds the edges of spice and resin. Finally, vetiver from Haiti contributes dry, smoky grassiness, rich in vetiverol and vetivone, lending both structure and elegance.

The overall impression is of opulent warmth and sensual complexity—a perfume that feels alive with movement, shifting from bright citrus and honeyed spice to lush florals and smoldering amber woods. Synthetic elements like ionones, heliotropin, and ambroxan serve to elevate the naturals, extending their longevity and enhancing their realism. Worn in winter or with fur, as Ciro once recommended, Danger envelops the wearer like an aura of mystery and luxury—a perfume not merely to be smelled, but to be experienced, savored, and remembered.

 

Bottle:

The Parfum bottle for Danger was a striking reflection of late 1930s sophistication and modernity, designed by the renowned Georges Chevalier and executed in flawless crystal by Baccarat, model number 777. Chevalier, who was best known for his avant-garde glasswork with Lalique and Baccarat, created a bottle that perfectly captured the essence of the perfume itself—strong, architectural, and unapologetically elegant.

The design features a series of stacked geometric planks, each layer slightly offset to give the impression of movement and structure. The bottle’s clear crystal body allows the golden liquid within to shimmer like amber under light, emphasizing its luxurious depth. The weight of the bottle in hand is substantial, a reminder of Baccarat’s craftsmanship and the prestige of fine crystal used for high-end parfums. Its notched glass inner stopper fits with precise engineering, sealing in the fragrance while also adding a touch of refinement to the overall form.

Crowning the bottle is a bold black glass—or bakelite—over cap, a dramatic contrast to the clarity of the crystal. The top bears the words “Danger Ciro” printed in gold lettering, standing out with Art Deco precision against the dark surface. On very rare examples, the over cap was finished in gilded gold, transforming the bottle into a true statement of luxury and rarity. This combination of black, gold, and clear crystal created an aesthetic that was both modern and timeless, perfectly in keeping with Ciro’s reputation for sophisticated, fashion-forward design.

Two known bottle sizes were produced: the 2 2/3 oz bottle, which stands 4 inches tall, and the 1 oz version, measuring 3.25 inches tall. Both sizes reflect the same geometric form and balance of proportion, showcasing Chevalier’s mastery of symmetry and Baccarat’s commitment to quality. Today, surviving bottles of Danger are highly prized not only for their rarity but also for their design pedigree—a harmonious marriage of French artistry, architectural precision, and the enduring glamour of prewar perfumery.

Esscent:

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

Fate of the Fragrance:

When Parfums Ciro introduced Danger in 1938, it immediately caught the attention of both the American press and the fashionable elite. The launch marked a bold statement for the Parisian house as it expanded into the U.S. market through Guy T. Gibson, Inc., its chosen distributor. As Business Week reported that year, the announcement was made with characteristic flair: “Our Times: Danger! Ciro, of Paris, will introduce its ‘Danger’ perfume to the American market…” The exclamation point was fitting—Danger was not a quiet debut but a dramatic entrance, promising intensity, luxury, and a touch of daring sophistication that captured the glamorous mood of the late 1930s.

The Stage magazine that same year described it as “that bold, saucy perfume that changes its aroma according to the person wearing it, and comes in a cut crystal bottle.” This remark hints at both the complexity of the fragrance and its responsiveness to individual skin chemistry—qualities that made Danger seem alive, almost personal. Its Baccarat-cut crystal bottle, designed by Georges Chevalier, reinforced the image of a perfume both modern and indulgent, a scent meant for women who lived vividly and confidently.

By 1940, Danger had already become part of Ciro’s established fragrance wardrobe. The New Yorker that year succinctly described it as “a lush winter scent,” contrasting it with the house’s lighter offering, Surrender. The term “lush” captured the perfume’s essence—its spicy, floral, ambered warmth enveloped the wearer like a luxurious fur stole, which was precisely how Ciro advised it be worn. That same year, Fashions of the Hour called it “a fitting challenge to every woman’s loveliness. It’s an audacious and exciting scent in a stunning 1-ounce bottle, $12.” In an age when a fragrance was seen as an extension of one’s identity, Danger was marketed not as a demure accessory but as a statement of power and allure—a perfume that dared to rival a woman’s beauty rather than merely complement it.

Even after the war, Danger retained its following. In 1949, Mademoiselle reassured readers that there was “no danger in giving Ciro’s Danger perfume—everyone loves it.” The playful tone reflected the perfume’s reputation: glamorous, universally admired, and irresistibly sensual. By 1950, French critics were equally captivated. L’Amour de l’art praised it with characteristic wit: “Whoever uses this perfume runs no risk…but the partner could well be intoxicated by this excellent blend of rose, musk and civet.” The comment summarized the fragrance perfectly—its danger was not to the wearer but to those drawn in by its hypnotic trail.

Old stock of Danger continued to appear on store shelves as late as 1970, a testament to its enduring appeal. What remained was its legend: a perfume that embodied the confident sensuality of its age, remembered for its bold name, daring composition, and the magnetic power it held over those who encountered it.