Maritza No. 9 by Countess Maritza Cosmetic Co. was launched in 1949, a time when American perfumery was beginning to embrace both glamour and accessibility in the postwar era. The company itself, founded in 1940 by Louis F. Margolies in New York, made clever use of branding to position its products as luxurious and European-sounding. The name “Countess Maritza” was carefully chosen to evoke aristocratic elegance and Old World sophistication, borrowing a romantic association from the operetta Gräfin Mariza by Emmerich Kálmán—a work that was popular with American audiences in the 1920s and '30s and kept the name "Maritza" familiar, mysterious, and tinged with exoticism.
The word “Maritza” (pronounced MAHR-it-sah) is derived from the name of a river that runs through the borderlands of Greece and Turkey. The river, historically known as the Evros in Greece and the Meriç in Turkey, carries with it deep cultural symbolism—boundary, flow, transformation, and a mingling of East and West. The decision to use this name for a perfume imbues the scent with a sense of movement and cosmopolitanism. It's an evocative choice, suggesting a perfume inspired by distant lands, gentle waters, and a blend of cultures. The addition of “No. 9” lends an air of mystery and refinement, following in the footsteps of famous numbered fragrances like Chanel No. 5. The number also hints at exclusivity, as if Maritza No. 9 were one in a series of personal creations by the Countess herself, each marked by taste and selectiveness.
Launched in 1949, Maritza No. 9 emerged in the early post–World War II period, when women were rediscovering fashion, femininity, and luxury after years of wartime austerity. This moment, often referred to as the beginning of the Atomic Age, also marked the dawn of the New Look, introduced by Christian Dior in 1947, which emphasized cinched waists, full skirts, and an overtly feminine silhouette. Perfumery followed suit. Fragrances became richer, more floral, and unapologetically ladylike, often designed to complement the sweeping glamour of the era's evening wear and tailored day dresses.
To a woman of 1949, Maritza No. 9 would have suggested worldly elegance—something distinct from the overtly French or Hollywood-American branding found in other popular scents. As a floral fougère, the fragrance would have stood apart from the more common aldehydic florals or heavy orientals of the day. The fougère structure, traditionally more associated with men’s fragrances due to its use of lavender, oakmoss, and coumarin, would have given Maritza No. 9 a quietly subversive edge. Floral fougères for women were still relatively rare, and the structure—delicate flowers layered over a crisp, mossy base—offered freshness, clarity, and a tailored sophistication, well-suited to the women of the time re-entering the workforce or navigating evolving gender roles.
The name “Maritza No. 9” may also have appealed to women who longed for escape, for poetry, or a dream of travel. Postwar women—many of whom had lost loved ones or had themselves served in some capacity during the war—might have responded emotionally to a perfume that suggested both nobility and nostalgia. Rather than an overpowering floral, Maritza No. 9 likely conveyed a balance between structure and softness, between groundedness and longing, its fougère base providing the clean, green backbone, and its floral heart whispering of romance.
In context, Maritza No. 9 was both aligned with its time and gently ahead of it. The 1940s saw many perfumes emphasizing florals, aldehydes, and powdery accords, while Maritza No. 9’s embrace of the fougère family for a feminine audience was notable. Though perhaps not revolutionary, it was distinctive—carving space for a woman who was both modern and classically romantic, strong yet elegant, and conscious of heritage without being bound to it.
In sum, Maritza No. 9 was more than just a fragrance—it was a fantasy. A name borrowed from a river that divides and connects, from a fictional countess who lent an air of nobility to a postwar world in search of beauty and aspiration.
Fragrance Composition:
So what does it smell like? Maritza No.9 by Countess Maritza is classified as a floral fougere fragrance for women.
- Top notes: aldehydes, Calabrian bergamot, Dutch lily of the valley, Moroccan narcissus, Indian carnation
- Middle notes: Zanzibar cloves, Ceylon cardamom, Provencal lavender, French fern, Bulgarian rose, Egyptian jasmine
- Base notes: Bourbon vanilla, Venezuelan tonka bean, ambergris, Maltese labdanum, Canadian castoreum, Haitian vetiver, Indonesian patchouli, Yugoslavian oakmoss, Mysore sandalwood
Scent Profile:
To smell Maritza No. 9 is to take in a slow-blooming story—a fragrance that opens with a crisp sparkle, deepens into botanical richness, and settles into something plush and velvety. As a floral fougère, it straddles two worlds: delicate femininity and aromatic structure. Each note contributes not only its scent, but also its sense of place, grounding the perfume in a worldliness that speaks to the name Maritza, a river that connects cultures. The scent reads as both carefully tailored and sensuous—never overworked, yet impossibly layered.
It opens with the fresh, slightly soapy clarity of aldehydes, sparkling and airy, lifting the composition with an effervescent shimmer like pressed linen in sunlight. These synthetic molecules don’t mimic a flower or a fruit, but instead evoke clean air, cold water, or the sheen of fine fabric. Their radiance is immediately cooled by the tartness of Calabrian bergamot, grown in southern Italy, where the sun, soil, and sea breeze coax out the oil’s delicate balance between citrusy brightness and soft floral undertones. This is not a sharp lemon, but something smoother and more refined—like the first sip of Earl Grey tea with a twist of orange.
Next, a breeze of Dutch lily of the valley drifts in—cool and green, almost watery in its purity. Lily of the valley cannot be extracted naturally, so its aroma is reconstructed using synthetics like hydroxycitronellal and lilial. These lend a dewy, floral quality—clean, ethereal, but with a whisper of earth beneath. The Moroccan narcissus that follows is far more assertive. Rich and animalic, with hay-like and almost indolic facets, it hums with depth. Moroccan varieties are known for their intensity—wild, deep yellow blooms that lend a subtle leathery warmth. In contrast, Indian carnation—spicy and slightly clove-like—adds a dry, peppery sparkle that sharpens the florals and nudges the scent toward structure.
As the perfume moves into its heart, spice begins to simmer. The cloves from Zanzibar are rich and warm—tinged with eugenol, they release a dry, almost medicinal warmth that offsets the sweetness to come. Ceylon cardamom brings a different shade of spice—more aromatic, with hints of lemon, mint, and camphor. Its coolness balances the warmth of the clove, creating a play of temperature across the skin. Into this spiced center comes the herbaceous calm of Provencal lavender. Harvested in the sun-drenched fields of southern France, it is fresher and sweeter than the sharper, more medicinal lavenders grown elsewhere. Its camphorous lilt gives the fragrance the clean, aromatic thread essential to any fougère.
The inclusion of French fern—a classic fougère accord in itself, usually a blend of lavender, oakmoss, and coumarin—adds that quintessential green shadow, cool and forest-like. Layered into this are lush florals: Bulgarian rose, famed for its intensely honeyed richness, and Egyptian jasmine, golden and creamy, with fruity and animalic facets. Together, they soften the herbs and spices, like silk beneath a wool jacket.
In the base, warmth deepens and sensuality unfolds. Bourbon vanilla, grown in the Indian Ocean islands, offers more than sweetness—it is smoky, balsamic, and slightly leathery. The Venezuelan tonka bean, rich in natural coumarin, adds almondy warmth and hay-like softness. These gourmand elements are grounded by ambergris, a rare oceanic note that adds a salty, musky complexity—more texture than scent, like the warmth of skin after hours in the sun.
Maltese labdanum, sticky and resinous, brings in leathery, balsamic shadows, while Canadian castoreum, though controversial today, adds a dark, animalic richness—a whisper of fur, old books, and polished wood. This base hums with subtle contradiction: Haitian vetiver brings dry, smoky grass; Indonesian patchouli, earthy and slightly sweet; Yugoslavian oakmoss, green and bitter, with an undercurrent of damp forest floor; and Mysore sandalwood, creamy and sacred, its buttery texture smoothing out the sharp edges of the composition. True Mysore sandalwood is prized for its lactonic richness and rarity—here, it closes the scent like a velvet curtain.
In total, Maritza No. 9 is a scent of dualities—fresh and warm, delicate and spicy, earthy and elegant. It is classically constructed, but never rigid. Every note is chosen not only for its aroma, but for its origin, its timbre, its role in the orchestra. Like the imagined Countess Maritza herself, the perfume travels widely, gathers richness from every place it touches, and speaks in a voice both refined and intriguing.
Product Line:
The Maritza No. 9 fragrance was offered in a thoughtfully tiered product line that reflected both versatility and a touch of mid-century elegance. Each concentration was tailored to suit different occasions, preferences, and levels of longevity—allowing wearers to experience the fragrance in subtly varying ways, from a sheer whisper to a lasting veil of scent.
The Eau de Parfum was the most widely used concentration, striking a balance between strength and softness. Typically composed of 10–20% aromatic compounds, this version offered notable sillage and staying power while maintaining an airy texture. It was ideal for daytime wear, giving the wearer a sense of luxury without overwhelming the senses. This concentration allowed the floral fougère character to fully express itself, especially the interplay between green notes and florals, with the base warming slowly throughout the day.
The Parfum Spray, on the other hand, contained a much higher percentage of fragrance oils—often between 20–30%. This version delivered a more intense and long-lasting impression. The heart and base notes in particular would have felt deeper, richer, and more velvety, especially the Bourbon vanilla, oakmoss, and Mysore sandalwood. The Parfum Spray was best suited for evening occasions or when one desired a more dramatic, enveloping presence. It also allowed the more delicate or rare ingredients, like Moroccan narcissus or Haitian vetiver, to truly bloom and linger on the skin.
The Purse Spray offered the convenience of a refined fragrance experience on the go. Compact and refillable, it was typically filled with either Eau de Parfum or a lighter parfum concentration, allowing women to carry a touch of elegance in their handbags—perfect for social outings or discreet refreshes during long afternoons. It captured the spirit of practicality without compromising sophistication.
The Concentrated Spray Mist was likely the lightest version—similar in concept to an Eau de Toilette or Cologne, but still richer than a typical body mist. This formulation provided a sheer, refreshing layer of scent, well-suited for warmer climates or those who preferred a more subtle fragrance presence. The aldehydes and citrus top notes would have been most prominent here, while the deeper floral and woody elements would remain more in the background.
For the perfume enthusiast or gift-giver, a foursome gift set was available, featuring Maritza No. 9 alongside three other Countess Maritza fragrances: Sonata, Silent Night, and White Mist. This set showcased the breadth of the brand’s olfactory palette—from the crisp aromatic florals of Maritza No. 9 to what were likely the romantic sweetness of Sonata, the mysterious, perhaps powdery mood of Silent Night, and the airy freshness suggested by the name White Mist. This gift set reflected the post-war trend of curated fragrance wardrobes, allowing women to select a scent that matched their mood, attire, or occasion—one of the most refined forms of self-expression in the 1940s and early 1950s.
Fate of the Fragrance:
Maritza No. 9 enjoyed a long presence on the market, with advertisements and availability continuing well into 1968, nearly two decades after its initial launch in 1949. This longevity speaks to the fragrance's enduring appeal and the loyalty it inspired in its wearers. In an era when many perfumes were fleeting trends, Maritza No. 9 held its ground, likely due to its refined composition, elegant presentation, and the emotional connection it offered to women navigating both the glamour and complexity of postwar modern life.
By the late 1960s, however, the fragrance landscape was shifting. The fresh minimalism of the 1970s was beginning to take hold, and newer, more contemporary perfumes began to push aside some of the mid-century classics. Eventually, Maritza No. 9 was discontinued, and production ceased. Like many independent or smaller house perfumes of the era, once it fell out of fashion or commercial circulation, it quietly disappeared from department store shelves and perfume counters.
Today, Maritza No. 9 is considered quite rare, its scarcity adding to its mystique. Bottles are occasionally found in private collections, estate sales, or vintage perfume markets, often cherished more for their nostalgic and historic value than as wearable fragrances—though in well-preserved form, the scent can still offer a glimpse into the elegance of its time. Collectors and perfume historians prize these surviving bottles, not only for their scent but also for what they represent: a perfume born from a glamorous, hopeful moment in American perfumery, bridging the refinement of European tradition with the optimism of mid-century America.