Collage by Adele Simpson (1967)

Collage by Adele Simpson was launched in 1967, at a moment when fashion, art, and personal expression were colliding in new and exhilarating ways. Adele Simpson was a celebrated American fashion designer best known for her elegant yet wearable clothing, favored by society women, professionals, and cultural tastemakers. Her designs balanced refinement with modernity—never severe, never frivolous—making her a trusted arbiter of taste for women who wanted sophistication that felt relevant. By the 1960s, Simpson had established herself not just as a couturier, but as a lifestyle designer, and perfume was a natural extension of that vision. Fragrance allowed her to translate her aesthetic into an invisible, intimate medium—something that could be worn daily and emotionally experienced, not merely seen.

The decision to add perfume to her line aligned perfectly with the era’s growing idea of total design. Designers were no longer dressing women only from the outside; they were shaping moods, identities, and self-expression. For Adele Simpson, fragrance was another layer of elegance—an olfactory signature that completed the woman she dressed. Naming the perfume “Collage” was especially telling. The word “collage” comes from the French coller, meaning “to glue” or “to paste,” and is pronounced "kuh-LAHZH". In art, a collage is an assemblage of disparate elements—images, textures, fragments—brought together to form a cohesive whole. As a word, it evokes creativity, modern art, layered meaning, and thoughtful composition. Emotionally, “collage” suggests complexity, individuality, and harmony born from contrast: softness against structure, nature against design.

When applied to scent, “Collage” becomes a poetic metaphor. Rather than a single dominant note, it implies a fragrance built from carefully chosen pieces—wildflowers, moss, woods—blended into something greater than the sum of its parts. The name suggests intention, artistry, and modern sensibility, qualities that resonated deeply with women of the late 1960s. This was a time of profound cultural change: the late modernist period moving into the so-called “Swinging Sixties,” marked by artistic experimentation, women’s liberation, and a loosening of rigid social codes. Fashion reflected this shift—hemlines rose, silhouettes softened, and designers embraced youthfulness, individuality, and freedom of expression. At the same time, there remained a strong appreciation for elegance and polish, especially among women who straddled tradition and progress.

In perfumery, the 1960s were a bridge between classic structures and modern interpretations. Chypres—built on citrus, florals, moss, woods, and amber—had long been associated with sophistication and confidence. Collage fits squarely within this lineage while subtly modernizing it. Described as a floral chypre, it opens with fresh citrus notes that feel crisp and invigorating, then unfolds into a floral bouquet that suggests natural wildflowers rather than formal bouquets. Beneath it all lies a woodsy, mossy amber base, rich in sandalwood, evoking shaded forests and cool earth. This structure aligns beautifully with the imagery suggested by its name: fragments of nature assembled into a refined, wearable composition.

The origin story of Collage reinforces this artistic framing. According to contemporary accounts, Adele Simpson spent two years evaluating scent trials on blotting papers, carefully sniffing and refining before selecting what she called the “essence of everything beautiful.” This slow, deliberate process mirrors the creation of a visual collage—selecting, discarding, rearranging—until balance is achieved. Public descriptions of the fragrance as “an assemblage-in-essence of cool moss, shadowy woodlands, and wild flowers” positioned it explicitly as art, not merely an accessory.

In the context of other fragrances on the market, Collage was not radically avant-garde, but it was thoughtfully attuned to its time. Green, mossy, nature-inspired perfumes were gaining popularity, reflecting a broader cultural turn toward the natural world and authenticity. However, Collage distinguished itself through its conceptual framing and its association with a respected fashion designer rather than a traditional perfume house. It offered women something familiar yet freshly articulated—a classic chypre structure reimagined through the lens of modern art and design.

For women in 1967, a perfume called Collage would have felt intelligent, cultured, and quietly progressive. It spoke to a woman who saw herself as multifaceted—professional, social, creative, grounded, and aspirational all at once. In scent, Collage translated that identity into citrus light, floral warmth, and mossy depth, layered like the life of the woman who wore it.

 

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Collage is classified as a floral chypre fragrance for women. It begins with a fresh, citrusy top followed by a floral bouquet resting over a woodsy, mossy amber base, heavy on sandalwood.

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, aldehyde C-11, aldehyde C-12, bergamot, lemon, petitgrain, neroli, bitter orange peel, lily of the valley, galbanum, lavender, chamomile
• Middle notes: clary sage, violet leaf, lilac accord, cyclamen accord, jasmine, narcissus, hyacinth, rose, ylang ylang, orris 
• Base notes: cedar, Mysore sandalwood, oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, musk, civet, castoreum, ambergris, tonka bean, labdanum, vanillin, benzoin

Scent Profile:

Collage unfolds as a classic floral chypre, but experienced up close it feels less like a formula and more like a slow walk from sunlight into forest shade—each ingredient revealing itself in layers, some immediate and sparkling, others dark, resinous, and quietly animalic.

The opening is unmistakably aldehydic, a signature of mid-century elegance. Aldehyde C-10 arrives first, bright and waxy with a suggestion of lemon rind and clean linen, lending the perfume an effervescent lift. Aldehyde C-11 follows with a softer, slightly green, ozonic nuance that suggests cool air and distance, while Aldehyde C-12 adds a fuller, creamy radiance—almost champagne-like—binding the citrus to the florals that follow. These aldehydes are entirely synthetic, created because no natural substance produces this precise shimmering effect; together they act like light passing through glass, amplifying freshness without smelling overtly “of” anything natural.

Beneath them, the citrus notes feel vivid and textured rather than sweet. Bergamot, prized historically from Calabria for its balanced bitterness and floral sparkle, smells fresh-peeled and lightly spicy, more elegant than sharp. Lemon adds a clean, brisk clarity, while bitter orange peel contributes a dry, aromatic bite that keeps the opening from turning sugary. Petitgrain, distilled from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, introduces a green, woody-citrus nuance, bridging zest and foliage. Neroli, from the blossoms of the same tree, blooms softly—cool, floral, and faintly honeyed—creating continuity across leaf, peel, and flower.

Threaded through this brightness are green and herbal accents. Galbanum is unmistakable: sharp, resinous, and intensely green, like snapped stems and sap, immediately evoking wild growth rather than cultivated gardens. Lavender, used sparingly, brings aromatic freshness and composure rather than overt sweetness, while chamomile adds a gentle, apple-like warmth, softening the sharper green edges. Lily of the valley, which cannot be extracted naturally and must be built synthetically, contributes a dewy, transparent floralcy—fresh, watery, and slightly soapy—enhancing the impression of spring air rather than a specific flower.

As the fragrance settles, the heart opens into an impressionistic bouquet—these are “wildflowers” not because they grow untended, but because they feel alive, green, and slightly shadowed. Clary sage introduces an herbal, musky warmth with hints of tea and dry hay, grounding the florals. Violet leaf is cool and metallic-green, smelling more of crushed leaves than petals, instantly conjuring woodland shade. Lilac and cyclamen accords, both necessarily synthetic since these flowers yield no usable essence, add a soft, airy floralcy—powdery, fresh, and faintly watery—creating the illusion of blossoms carried on a breeze.

Natural florals deepen the composition. Jasmine brings creamy indolic warmth, floral yet faintly animalic, while narcissus adds a darker, hay-like, green-leather nuance essential to chypre character. Hyacinth contributes a cool, watery greenness, while rose anchors the bouquet with velvety body and gentle spice. Ylang-ylang, likely sourced from the Comoros or Madagascar, adds a lush, solar creaminess, rounding sharper edges. Orris, distilled from aged iris rhizomes—often from Italy—introduces a powdery, root-like elegance, smelling of cool earth and violet-tinged cosmetic softness. Together, these florals feel layered rather than blended, like petals, leaves, and stems intertwined.

The base is where Collage reveals its depth and lasting power. Cedar opens the drydown with pencil-wood clarity, while vetiver—earthy, smoky, and slightly bitter—adds verticality, like roots descending into soil. Patchouli contributes damp earth and shadowed sweetness, reinforcing the forest floor impression. Oakmoss, the backbone of the chypre structure, smells cool, inky, and mineral, evoking lichen-covered bark and moss after rain.

At the heart of the base lies Mysore sandalwood, historically sourced from Mysore, long considered the gold standard for sandalwood oil. Unlike harsher modern substitutes, true Mysore sandalwood is creamy, milky, softly woody, and faintly animalic, lending warmth and skin-like smoothness that persists for hours. This richness supports the moss and resins without overpowering them.

Animalic notes add sensual undertones typical of the era. Musk (then largely synthetic) provides warmth and diffusion; civet introduces a subtle, intimate animal warmth; castoreum adds leathery, smoky depth. Ambergris, whether natural or reconstructed, contributes a salty-sweet, marine warmth that softens the woods. These materials are used in trace amounts—not to shock, but to give the perfume its quiet pulse.

Finally, resins and sweeteners round the composition. Labdanum is dark, ambery, and balsamic, forming the core of the amber effect. Benzoin adds vanillic warmth with a soft resinous glow, while vanillin, used judiciously, smooths rough edges rather than sweetening overtly. Tonka bean, rich in coumarin, contributes a gentle almond-hay sweetness that echoes the earlier narcissus and chamomile.

The overall effect is cohesive and contemplative: sparkling light at the top, a green-floral heart that feels alive and untamed, and a base that sinks slowly into moss, wood, and warm skin. Collage truly earns its name—each ingredient distinct when encountered alone, yet seamlessly assembled into an elegant, atmospheric whole.

Bottle:

Collage was presented with the same refined theatricality that defined Adele Simpson’s approach to style. The fragrance was housed in rich ruby-red boxes, their depth of color set off by elegant gold lettering that immediately suggested luxury and confidence rather than ornament for ornament’s sake. On the dressing table, the perfume itself rose dramatically in a slender, elongated flacon balanced on a small pedestal—its verticality deliberate and striking, making it the tallest bottle in the fragrance field in 1967 and an unmistakable visual statement among more conventional forms. The design conveyed poise and modernity, echoing the clean lines of Simpson’s clothing. For portability, a refillable purse spray finished in glossy ruby enamel extended the aesthetic beyond the vanity, allowing the wearer to carry Collage as a personal accessory—functional, discreet, and unmistakably elegant.

Across the late 1960s and early 1970s, the way the fashion press wrote about Collage reveals not just the success of a perfume, but the careful construction of an entire aesthetic world by Adele Simpson—one that merged clothing, scent, ritual, and identity into a seamless expression of modern femininity.

When Vogue announced in 1968 that Simpson had introduced Collage Skin Perfume only six months after the debut of the original fragrance and Eau de Collage, the tone was one of admiration rather than surprise. Simpson was already understood as a “connoisseur of good scents,” someone whose taste extended naturally beyond fabric into fragrance. The implication was clear: Collage was not an afterthought or licensing exercise, but a thoughtful continuation of her design philosophy. Her clothes were described as “charmingly wearable,” and the perfume was positioned as their invisible counterpart—something chosen with the same discernment, worn with the same ease.

By 1969, the conversation had deepened. In Cue, Simpson articulated a concept that feels strikingly modern: fragrance as something to be layered rather than applied in a single, dramatic gesture. Drawing a parallel between contemporary fashion’s layered silhouettes and a “layered bath ritual,” she framed scent as cumulative, intimate, and personal. Soap, moisturizer, bath perfume, talc, and skin perfume were meant to work together, creating an aura rather than a statement. The image she proposed—a pretty basket at the edge of the tub holding these essentials—was domestic, elegant, and quietly luxurious. It suggested that refinement began in private moments, long before one dressed or stepped out into the world.

That same year, House and Garden captured the sensory poetry of the fragrance itself, calling Collage “a pastiche of blossoms.” The language is telling: no single flower dominates. Instead, each note “makes an occasional point as the wearer moves,” implying a perfume that shifts and breathes with the body. The result, the magazine concluded, was “a message of great femininity”—not loud or overt, but composed, graceful, and responsive to motion. Femininity here is not static; it is experienced in passing moments, revealed gradually.

In Harper’s Bazaar in 1969, Collage is fully realized as a lifestyle. The original “lovely wildflower perfume” is described as having been created to complement Simpson’s “superb clothes,” reinforcing the idea that scent and fashion were conceived together. The introduction of the bath collection—body oil, soap, talc, and Eau de Collage—transforms fragrance into a backdrop, a constant presence rather than a finishing touch. The phrase “unseen (but not unnoticed!) fashion image” beautifully encapsulates the era’s ideal: elegance that announces itself subtly, through impression rather than display.

By 1971, Vogue reframed Collage in a more assertive cultural context. “Assert yourself,” the magazine urged, positioning the perfume as a marker of confidence for women entering male-dominated professions. Collage was no longer just romantic or decorative; it was intelligent, cool, and purposeful. Worn alongside Simpson’s crisp linens, it became a signal of taste and self-possession—proof that femininity and authority could coexist, even reinforce one another.

Finally, The Americana Annual in 1973 placed Collage within the broader history of American fashion and fragrance. Grouped alongside Norman Norell’s entry into perfumery, Collage was acknowledged as part of a “tremendous field” newly embraced by American designers. Simpson’s own description of the scent as “the essence of everything beautiful” is not presented as hyperbole, but as a distillation of her lifelong sensibility. After years of press coverage, layered rituals, and lifestyle extensions, the phrase feels earned—Collage standing as an olfactory summation of Adele Simpson’s vision: composed, feminine, modern, and quietly assured.

Fate of the Fragrance:

In 1970, the Collage fragrance line entered a new phase when McKesson Laboratories, a division of Foremost-McKesson, Inc., acquired the marketing rights from Fashion Fragrances, Ltd., the company established by Adele Simpson. Based on Fifth Avenue in New York, Fashion Fragrances had positioned Collage as a designer perfume rooted in couture values. The transfer to McKesson signaled a deliberate expansion rather than a departure from that identity—bringing corporate scale, national logistics, and broader retail reach to a fragrance that had already proven its cultural and commercial appeal.

Robert P. Ewing, vice president and general manager of McKesson Laboratories, announced that Adele Simpson fragrances would now be distributed nationally through fine department stores as well as selected drug stores. This dual-channel approach reflected the changing fragrance market of the early 1970s, when prestige scents were beginning to move beyond exclusive counters without losing their aura. Collage was thus positioned to remain aspirational while becoming more accessible, reinforcing its role as an everyday expression of taste rather than a rare indulgence.

For Adele Simpson, the agreement aligned seamlessly with her personal philosophy. Upon signing with McKesson, she stated simply, “My purpose in life is to make women more beautiful.” The remark encapsulates the way she viewed fragrance—as an extension of design, confidence, and self-presentation, not merely a product. Under McKesson’s stewardship, Collage continued to embody that ethos, maintaining its identity as a refined, feminine, and intelligent scent.

Although the exact date of discontinuation remains unclear, Collage was still being sold as late as 1977, suggesting a respectable longevity in a rapidly changing fragrance landscape. Its extended presence on the market speaks to its lasting relevance and the strength of its concept—an elegant synthesis of fashion, scent, and modern womanhood that endured well beyond its late-1960s debut.