Amorskin was a German cosmetics brand known primarily for its luxurious and unusually formulated face creams. The brand appears to have been active from approximately 1928 through 1946. Amorskin products were compounded, packaged, and hermetically sealed in Berlin, Germany, before being imported into the United States by the Opoterapia Company. In America, the business operated under the name Amorskin Corporation, with its office located in the prestigious Steinway Hall at 111–113 West 57th Street in New York City. The company also maintained branches in Paris and Milan, indicating its intention to market the product as an elite, international beauty innovation.
The formula for Amorskin was reportedly developed in a Berlin laboratory by a German specialist in organotherapy—an area of early 20th-century medical science that explored the use of animal-derived tissue extracts for therapeutic and cosmetic purposes. The key ingredients in the Amorskin cream included biological extracts derived from the subcutaneous tissue of young animals. Particularly exotic were claims that the “active substance” came either from a species of lizard or a tortoise reputed to live for an exceptionally long time. These extracts were said to be rich in "youth hormones," which purportedly nourished and revitalized the facial cells, effectively reversing visible signs of aging.
Originally, Amor Skin claimed to include a rare and unusual biological ingredient: an extract derived from the skin of very young iguana lizards. This substance was promoted as the cream’s key active compound, believed to carry rejuvenating hormone-like properties that would restore vitality to aging skin. The inclusion of such a rare and exotic source contributed greatly to the product’s mystique and exclusivity. In the context of the 1920s and 1930s—an era fascinated by organotherapy and the promise of cellular regeneration—such ingredients were marketed as cutting-edge, quasi-medical breakthroughs.
However, as the product's popularity soared, the practical limitations of sourcing iguana skin became apparent. The demand for the cream outpaced the supply of the animals, and young iguanas reportedly became increasingly difficult to obtain in sufficient numbers. Whether due to over-harvesting or logistical challenges, the scarcity of the original source material forced a pivot in the formulation.
It was then conveniently discovered that the same hormone-like substance could also be extracted from the skin glands of tortoises. Tortoises, long associated with longevity and resilience, provided a symbolic advantage as well. The shift from iguana to tortoise not only solved the supply problem but also allowed the brand to reinforce its messaging around timeless beauty and the slow, graceful aging process. This substitution was presented as seamless and even desirable, aligning the product’s scientific claims with a more enduring and evocative animal symbol. The tortoise extract continued to anchor the cream’s identity as a luxurious, biologically sophisticated treatment designed to resist the effects of time.
The product promised dramatic transformations: smoother, younger-looking skin free of pimples, wrinkles, and sallowness. In its earliest years, Amorskin was marketed as an exclusive and expensive solution to aging, selling for $25 in 1928—a considerable sum equivalent to over $300 in modern value. The cream was sold in highly distinctive packaging: a replica of a Pompeiian pottery vessel shaped like an Aladdin’s lamp, reinforcing the idea of a magical transformation. This packaging was promoted as “The Spirit of the Lamp,” drawing on imagery of wish fulfillment and eternal youth.
Supporting its claims, the company distributed German-language booklets titled Amor Skin, Organo-Kosmetikum, which featured testimonials from physicians in Germany who praised the product’s effects. These endorsements lent a veneer of scientific credibility to the product, in keeping with the period's fascination with hormone therapies and biological rejuvenation.
However, by the 1940s, Amorskin's claims drew scrutiny from U.S. regulators. In January 1943, the Amorskin Corporation signed a stipulation agreement with the Federal Trade Commission, agreeing to cease advertising claims that the product could "feed or nourish the skin," improve tissue structure, or alter physical features such as the contour of the elbow. These statements were deemed misleading and scientifically unsubstantiated. Despite this, advertising persisted with language such as: “Amor Skin, the Secret of Women Who Never Look Old,” playing into post-war anxieties about aging and beauty.
By 1946, following the FTC's intervention and the fading popularity of organotherapy in cosmetics, Amorskin appears to have disappeared from the market, leaving behind only its striking packaging and the memory of its bold—and biologically ambitious—promises.
The perfumes of Amor Skin:
- 1931 Fleurs Prisonnieres
- 1931 Le Rouge et Le Bleu
- 1931 La Peele Aude
Fleurs Prisonnières (1931)
Translation: "Imprisoned Flowers"
This evocative name suggests a floral composition of great richness and depth—perhaps even an opulent bouquet that feels almost trapped within the confines of a bottle. In the context of the 1930s, a period rich with floral-aldehydic and floral-oriental fragrances, Fleurs Prisonnières may have been a complex white floral scent dominated by ingredients like jasmine, tuberose, or orange blossom—flowers traditionally associated with sensuality and confinement due to their heady, intoxicating qualities. The word “prisonnières” evokes an image of flowers under glass or held captive in some kind of olfactory stasis, suggesting the fragrance may have had an underlying animalic or musky base to emphasize sensual depth and longevity. It is likely the perfume leaned toward the dramatic and romantic, in keeping with the more indulgent trends of the time.
Le Rouge et Le Bleu (1931)
Translation: "The Red and the Blue"
This title is both symbolic and ambiguous, calling to mind emotional contrasts—passion (red) and calm or melancholy (blue). It may be a poetic reference, perhaps even an allusion to duality, as seen in the French novel Le Rouge et le Noir (The Red and the Black) by Stendhal. In perfumery, “red” often evokes rich floral or fruity notes such as rose, carnation, berries, or red spices like clove and cinnamon. “Blue,” on the other hand, might hint at cooler, more ethereal tones: violet, iris, lavender, or perhaps even a subtle aquatic or aldehydic freshness. Together, the name suggests a fragrance built around contrast and harmony—warm, romantic heart notes layered over a cool, perhaps slightly powdery or musky base. It may have offered both brightness and restraint: a composition that opened with warmth and passion but dried down to serenity and introspection.
La Peele Aude (1931)
Note: This appears to be a typographical or transliteration error.
The name La Peele Aude likely refers to "La Pelle Aude" or more plausibly "La Belle Aude" or "L’Appel Aude"—each would change the meaning significantly:
If “La Belle Aude” (The Beautiful Aude) is intended, it may refer to a woman named Aude, a figure from medieval French romance literature (notably the Chanson de Roland), known for her tragic love and beauty. This could suggest a romantic and wistful scent, possibly centered around delicate florals like rose and lily of the valley, paired with melancholic violet or heliotrope, softened by a powdery or resinous base.
If “L’Appel Aude” (The Call to Aude) is intended, it implies something more dramatic—perhaps a passionate invocation. This might point toward a richer oriental or chypre fragrance, with amber, incense, oakmoss, or even myrrh forming the base.
Given the poetic and somewhat mysterious naming conventions used by Amorskin, this fragrance likely followed in the same tradition: romantic, lyrical, and grounded in storytelling. Whether built around a historic, literary, or symbolic figure, this perfume was likely intended to evoke emotion and narrative—a signature characteristic of luxury fragrances from the interwar years.
Each of these perfumes reflects the era’s fascination with complex emotional narratives expressed through scent. Amorskin, though more known for its controversial skin cream, clearly aimed to position its perfumes as sensorial extensions of its brand—elegant, evocative, and scientifically modern, yet rooted in the timeless language of luxury and longing.
The vintage Amor Skin print stands as a striking early example of photography's entry into the realm of commercial advertising. Until the 1920s, most advertisements relied on illustration—posters, lithographs, and hand-drawn artwork dominated the visual language of marketing. Photography, in contrast, was largely confined to journalism and documentation, valued more for its objectivity than its artistic potential. It wasn’t until the late 1920s and early 1930s that photography began to assert itself as a medium of aesthetic persuasion, and this particular Amor Skin image illustrates that turning point beautifully.
The composition is soft and atmospheric, a carefully staged photograph that merges art with aspiration. It features the faint, overlapping faces of three women, each gazing downward with serene, introspective expressions. Their visages are slightly blurred, superimposed in a delicate haze that suggests stillness, reverie, and a quiet intimacy. This layering effect, almost painterly in its softness, imbues the image with a sense of dreamlike beauty—elevating the product beyond mere skincare to something more symbolic: a portal into timeless femininity and idealized grace.
Centrally placed at the bottom of the image is the focal point: a gilded porcelain vessel shaped like an Aladdin’s lamp, designed to contain the brand’s luxurious Amor Skin face cream. Its glistening surface reflects the studio light, highlighting its exotic form—complete with curved handle, pointed spout, domed lid formed like flames. The vessel is more than a container; it’s a metaphor. By invoking the myth of the magic lamp, the brand subtly promises transformation—beauty that can be summoned like a wish, elegance that seems almost enchanted.
The ethereal mood of the photograph is achieved through a technique popularized by surrealist photographers of the period: multiple exposure. This process, which involves exposing a single photographic plate several times, allowed photographers to layer images into one harmonious, dreamlike composition. It’s a technique mastered by German advertising and fashion photographer Yva (Else Ernestine Neuländer, 1900–1942), who was active in Berlin during the very years Amor Skin was marketed. Known for her experimental and modernist approach, Yva often exposed her negatives as many as seven times, creating images that felt simultaneously elegant and unreal. Her visual style was ideally suited to luxury advertising, where fantasy and glamour were essential.
Yva’s Berlin studio flourished in the late 1920s and early 1930s. She trained a number of young photographers, most famously Helmut Newton, who would later credit her as a formative influence. Her work appeared in major fashion and lifestyle magazines of the time and remains celebrated for its sophistication and innovation. Tragically, as a Jewish woman in Nazi Germany, she was forced to shut her studio in 1938. She briefly found work as an X-ray technician at the Jewish Hospital in Berlin, but in 1942, she and her husband, Alfred Hermann Simon, were arrested, deported, and murdered—most likely at the Sobibor extermination camp.
Though her life and career were cut short, Yva’s legacy endures. The Amor Skin advertisement, definitively attributed to her is a hauntingly beautiful relic of a moment when art, commerce, and history converged. It offers not only a glimpse into early beauty advertising but also into a vanished world where glamour was captured through a lens—softly, mysteriously, and with extraordinary care.