Les Parfums de Paquin

Paquin of Paris, the illustrious couture house founded by Jeanne Paquin in 1890 at 3 rue de la Paix, was one of the first fashion maisons to blend high fashion with innovative branding, international expansion, and eventually, fine perfumery. Jeanne Paquin herself was a trailblazer—renowned not only for her refined, elegant designs but for her keen business acumen. As one of the first female couturiers to gain worldwide recognition, she cultivated a loyal clientele among actresses, socialites, and royalty alike. By the early 20th century, she had established branches in London, Buenos Aires, and Madrid, solidifying her reputation as a global fashion authority.

Building on its fashion success, Paquin ventured into perfumery in 1939, adding fragrance to its luxurious offerings at a time when many couture houses were doing the same. These perfumes were conceived not merely as accessories to fashion, but as olfactory expressions of the Paquin woman—elegant, sophisticated, and modern. Several of these fragrances were presented in exquisite bottles produced by Baccarat, one of France’s premier crystal manufacturers. Paquin chose Baccarat flacon design #800, a sleek, timeless silhouette, for a number of its perfumes, allowing the vessel itself to reflect the maison’s refined aesthetic.

Among Paquin’s most notable perfumes, Espoir and Ever After stood out for their presentation as well as their scent. Both were offered in Baccarat crystal bottles—Espoir, in particular, was showcased in an especially dramatic design in 1953: a small black-glass bottle topped with a green stone set into the stopper, an elegant and modern gesture that hinted at the scent’s mysterious and optimistic tone. In contrast, Habit Rouge—not to be confused with Guerlain’s later scent—was issued in a black-glass bottle crowned with a red stone in the stopper, the color symbolism playing off the perfume’s name, which translates to "Red Frock," likely referencing an equestrian or dashing masculine style. This bottle, too, was produced by Baccarat, affirming Paquin’s commitment to luxury materials and refined presentation.

Following decades of sartorial and olfactory prestige, Paquin’s fortunes began to shift in the postwar era. In 1954, the house merged with Worth, another titan of couture and fragrance, in an effort to navigate the rapidly evolving fashion industry. Despite these efforts, the golden age of couture was waning, and the once-great house closed its doors in 1962.

Today, Paquin’s perfumes—especially those housed in their Baccarat bottles—are highly collectible artifacts, treasured not only for their rarity but for their role in the golden age of couture perfumery. They encapsulate a moment in time when scent, fashion, and crystal artistry came together to create a complete and immersive expression of luxury

The perfumes of Paquin:

• 1939 9 X 9
• 1939 Habit Rouge
• 1939 Ever After
• 1945 Espoir
• 1945 P2
• 1948 Lavande
• 1948 L'Eau de Paquin
• 1949 No. 9
• 1953 Goya
• Monologue
• Nuit d’Afrique
• Old Panama
• Sahara
• Solfrege

L'Atlantique, 1952:

"Paquin's music box which plays 'The Third Man' or 'La Vie en Rose,' contains three Paquin perfumes, '9 x 9,' 'Ever After' and 'Espoir' in a charming blue box edged in gold, which becomes a cigarette box when bottles are empty. A novelty is the 'Clochette' or bell of black lacquer basketry with a one ounce bottle of perfume on a red setting; this is also a music box!"

Espoir:

Espoir by Paquin, launched in 1945, emerged at a poignant moment in French history—at the end of the Second World War, a time when the country, and its women, longed for renewal, softness, and above all, hope. The very name, Espoir—French for "hope"—is a delicate gesture toward that emotional rebirth. Jeanne Paquin's house, already renowned for elegance and refinement, sought to create a fragrance that captured the tender, transitional space between girlhood and womanhood, innocence and sensuality, restraint and emotional awakening.

Espoir was widely described in period commentary as a "beginner’s perfume," a term not meant to diminish its quality or complexity, but rather to express its suitability for the young, uninitiated wearer—the kind of girl who looks to fragrance not as an accessory of seduction, but as a quiet assertion of her emerging identity. It was, as the magazine La Femme Chic described, ideal for the young woman who senses that she has not yet truly become a woman until she wears perfume, yet doesn’t want a scent that transforms or overpowers her natural self. Espoir was a fragrance of transformation, without urgency—a scent that honored the slow unfolding of a young woman’s self-awareness.

Reviews from the late 1940s and early 1950s positioned Espoir as a romantic, floral scent, deeply rooted in familiar botanicals from the French countryside. Rather than conjuring the exoticism or opulence of far-flung locales, it turned inward, to the comfort of home and nature: florals from "our gardens and our provinces," suggesting lilacs, violets, peonies, roses, narcissus, perhaps even hints of hay or meadow flowers. This bouquet wasn’t abstract or stylized—it was tenderly natural, as though gathered in the arms of a young girl on a spring afternoon. The result, as La Femme Chic put it, was “a fresh, fresh scent of exquisite youthfulness.”

The 1950 review in L'Amour de l'art deepens this interpretation. There, Espoir is called “naively perverse”—a playful contradiction that captures its magic. It is sensual, but only just so. It hints at budding femininity, not full-blown womanhood. There’s a restrained warmth beneath the flowers, as if a tender secret is held just out of reach. Described as a “barely sensual bouquet,” it suggests the subtle interplay of youth and curiosity, a perfume that glows gently rather than smolders.

In its time, Espoir stood apart from the bold, seductive orientals or aldehydic florals that dominated the postwar fragrance landscape. It was not glamorous, not assertive, not mysterious. Instead, it was tender, romantic, and intimate, designed for the inner life of a young woman discovering her place in the world. This made it unique—and timeless. Though it was designed as an introduction to perfume, Espoir carried with it the full emotional weight of memory, tenderness, and personal transformation, making it a fragrance that stayed with its wearer long after those early moments of discovery.

La Femme Chic, 1945:

"For those who do not want to wear aggressive perfume, note Recital de Millot with its sweet floral aromas; and more particularly Espoir de Paquin. This delicate creation seems to us to be the 'beginner's' dream perfume, to be recommended to young girls who, without wanting to age, quite rightly have the impression of not yet being a woman as long as they do not have perfume. In Espoir we find the familiar scents of flowers from our home, our gardens and our countryside, from all the seasons and all the provinces. The result is a fresh, fresh scent of exquisite youthfulness."

 L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

"Espoir by Paquin: it is a beginner's perfume adopted by the romantic and tender young girl; it evokes the innocent promises of a budding femininity and brings together the delicious scents of flowers from our homeland in a single barely sensual bouquet, naively perverse, deliciously young."

9 X 9:

9x9 by Paquin (sometimes written as Nine by Nine) is one of the more enigmatic entries in the perfume house's portfolio—less defined by floral taxonomy or olfactory pyramid than by atmosphere, character, and suggestion. Launched in the early 1940s during the turbulence of wartime France, the fragrance offered a kind of sensory escape, a poetic abstraction in scent that was meant to capture the ineffable allure of Paris itself.

In a 1941 issue of Le Petit Parisien, 9x9 was described with remarkable literary flourish. “Neither plant nor flower…” the writer insists. In other words, 9x9 defies classification. It is not a perfume designed to evoke a single botanical image, nor does it lean entirely into naturalism or fantasy. Rather, it exists in a liminal space, at once familiar and mysterious, adaptable to all ages and genders. This was a daring concept at the time—when fragrances were generally marketed with strict gender norms in mind—yet Paquin presents 9x9 as universal, a kind of aromatic chameleon.

It is described as a “hybrid, enveloping perfume,” elusive and ungraspable. It’s a scent “which escapes analysis,” which suggests not a lack of sophistication, but rather a perfume that transcends its own ingredients. This reflects an idealized image of Paris itself: a city whose charm cannot be dissected or rationalized. It simply seduces, without explanation. To wear 9x9, then, was to carry that same Parisian mystery—a cultivated allure that seemed both effortless and innate.

By 1950, the magazine L’Amour de l’art took a more concrete—but still poetic—approach to describing 9x9. Here, we are told the scent is built from “roses, jasmines and amber,” blended into a “deliciously powdery scent.” This blend evokes classic French perfumery: the florals are lush and emotive, the amber gives warmth and body, and the powdery note adds a soft, skin-like intimacy, reminiscent of vintage face powder or the lingering scent on silk. These elements combine to create a perfume that suggests not only sensuality, but emotional richness—“sweetness, pride, tenderness, and luxury.”

The phrase “proof by 9 of success” is a clever play on words. In mathematics, "proof by 9" (or preuve par 9) is a way to verify a calculation. Applied here, it becomes a metaphor: 9x9 is a demonstration, in scent, of luxury perfected. It is a fragrance built to last, not just in wear, but in cultural memory—a scent that embodies both timeless refinement and emotional resonance.

In essence, 9x9 by Paquin was a fragrance designed to express what could not be easily said. It offered an olfactory portrait of Parisian elegance, not limited by gender or age, and not confined to the logic of top, heart, and base notes. Instead, it was a perfume that lived in metaphor, in mood, and in the graceful contradiction of being bold without being loud, romantic without sentimentality, and luxurious without pretense.

Le Petit Parisien : journal quotidien du soir, 1941:

"Nine by Nine, by Paquin, is neither plant nor flower, It adapts to all ages, to all genders. It is a hybrid, enveloping perfume, which escapes analysis. In a word: the soul of Paris. Like him, he seduces without anyone knowing how, and that's why we love them both."

L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

"9x9 by Paquin: Roses, jasmines and amber melted into a deliciously powdery scent. This perfume of sweetness, pride, tenderness and luxury is proof by 9 of success."

Ever After:

L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

 "Ever After by Paquin: promise of summer enclosed in a bottle. The floral note is only a start whose limpidity barely conceals the insidiously ardent theme. Scent of the aristocrat, indifferent to the seasons, and proud of its personality."

Ever After by Paquin, launched in 1939, is a perfume that moves beyond fleeting fashion to offer a lasting impression—an olfactory narrative that speaks of poise, inner fire, and elegance untouched by time or season. Released at the cusp of World War II, Ever After was not simply a floral composition for the moment; it was a statement of continuity, of feminine dignity that remains composed regardless of what surrounds it. Its name alone suggests timelessness, a fairytale promise made tactile through scent.

A 1950 description in L’Amour de l’art evokes this idea beautifully: “Promise of summer enclosed in a bottle.” This isn’t just a floral perfume—it’s the idea of summer captured and distilled, the warmth of sun-drenched air, the quiet hum of blossoms on a breeze, and the golden light that lingers long into the evening. And yet, the floral top note is only the beginning—its “limpidity” or crystalline clarity is noted as a veil, an opening gesture that hints at something deeper. Beneath this fresh, light-hearted start lies an “insidiously ardent theme”—a heart of the fragrance that burns quietly but with unmistakable intensity. It doesn’t overwhelm, but it asserts itself confidently.

The perfume was positioned as a scent for the aristocrat—but not in the superficial sense of wealth. Rather, it evokes a nobility of character, a self-possession that remains “indifferent to the seasons”—in other words, it is a scent for a woman who is constant and self-defined, not swayed by passing trends or external approval. The phrase “proud of its personality” speaks to this directly: Ever After was composed for those who valued subtle complexity, who appreciated perfume not as decoration, but as expression.

Though specific notes of the composition are not listed in the contemporary descriptions, one can imagine from the language used that Ever After unfolded in delicate, layered ways. Perhaps a cool opening—suggesting neroli, bergamot, or aldehydes—followed by a heart of dignified florals, like iris, rose, or perhaps a hint of lily. The base likely contained warm musks or resins, something to give weight to the scent’s implied sensuality, while maintaining its elegance and restraint.

Ever After was not designed to be provocative in the usual sense, but rather quietly magnetic, drawing attention not with flamboyance but with an unmistakable presence. It was the olfactory equivalent of a silk gown brushed with sunlight—graceful, refined, and glowing from within.

Ever After," a BACCARAT perfume bottle for Paquin, circa 1939, in clear crystal, with label, in elaborate wicker cage with music box base, plays "La Vie en Rose," as bottle revolves. Stenciled BACCARAT. Ht. 2 7/8. Photo courtesy of Rago Arts & Auction Center.