Megara by Le Galion, launched in 1978 and introduced to the U.S. in 1979, arrived at a moment when perfumery was quietly recalibrating its sense of femininity. The choice of the name “Megara” is both evocative and deliberate. The word comes from ancient Greek, pronounced as "MEH-gah-rah". Historically, Megara was an ancient Greek city-state, but the name also carries mythological resonance—suggesting antiquity, dignity, and a woman of presence rather than ornament. Linguistically and emotionally, “Megara” feels architectural and sunlit: stone warmed by centuries, terraces overlooking the sea, and a sense of poised strength rather than fragility. It evokes independence, clarity, and quiet authority—an ideal that aligned beautifully with the evolving image of women at the end of the 1970s.
The late 1970s were a transitional period, often described as the post–Second Wave Feminism era, bridging the idealism of the early decade with the assertive glamour of the 1980s. Fashion reflected this shift: fluid silhouettes gave way to cleaner lines, confident tailoring, and an emphasis on natural elegance rather than overt decoration. Women were increasingly visible in professional and public life, and their fragrances followed suit. Perfumery moved away from the dense animalic chypres of earlier decades and toward fresh florals, green notes, aldehydic brightness, and polished woods—scents that suggested vitality, competence, and modernity without sacrificing sensuality.
Within this cultural climate, a perfume named Megara would have felt quietly empowering. To women of the time, the name suggested refinement without submission, youthfulness without naïveté. It implied a woman who was radiant rather than adorned, confident rather than coquettish. In scent form, “Megara” translates as light-filled structure: the fruity, green aldehydic opening creates an immediate sense of freshness and lift—clean, sparkling, and modern—before unfolding into an elegant floral heart of jasmine and rose, timeless symbols of femininity rendered here with restraint and clarity. The powdery, sandalwood-warmed base softens the composition, lending a sensual, almost tactile comfort that feels composed rather than indulgent.
Dominique Vacher’s composition reflects Le Galion’s classical DNA while subtly modernizing it for its era. Megara is concentrated and highly tenacious, designed to project and endure, yet it avoids heaviness. Its strength lies in diffusion rather than density—a scent that announces itself through radiance instead of weight. The creamy sandalwood rounds the florals without obscuring them, reinforcing the perfume’s balanced character: youthful, joyful, and quietly luminous.
In the context of its contemporaries, Megara was not radically avant-garde, but it was distinctly refined. It aligned with late-1970s trends toward freshness, green clarity, and polished florals, yet stood apart through its simplicity and poise. While many fragrances of the period leaned toward complexity or dramatic contrasts, Megara embraced a confident restraint. This made it versatile and enduring—an expression of femininity that felt modern, capable, and self-assured, perfectly attuned to the women and the cultural moment that welcomed it.
Influence:
The story of Megara cannot be told without first honoring Paul Vacher, the visionary founder of the legendary French perfume house Le Galion. One of the most accomplished perfumers of the 20th century, Vacher created no fewer than twenty internationally significant fragrances during his lifetime, working both for his own house and for select couture clients. His influence shaped modern perfumery, bridging classical French structure with a growing sense of emotional expressiveness. From the outset, his work demonstrated an instinctive understanding of balance, radiance, and lasting elegance—qualities that would later echo through Megara itself.
Vacher’s first great triumph came in 1927, when he composed Arpège for Jeanne Lanvin, in collaboration with his assistant André Fraysse. This aldehydic woody floral would become one of the most iconic perfumes in history, defining an entire genre. The following year, the duo created L’Âme Perdue, an aldehydic floral of haunting delicacy—now long discontinued, but still revered by historians and collectors. These early works established Vacher as a master of both innovation and refinement, capable of translating emotion into structure with remarkable clarity.
In 1937, Vacher reached another creative peak with Sortilège, a floral masterpiece that remains in production today and stands as one of Le Galion’s enduring signatures. That same prolific year saw the release of several additional creations for the house: Snob, a floral aldehyde; Iris, soft and powdery; Brumes, an aromatic fougère; Tubereuse, lush and sweetly floral; and Bourrasque, a fruity woody fougère with surprising vitality. Though these fragrances were discontinued for decades, their artistic merit was never forgotten. In a rare and fortunate revival, Parfums Le Galion has since reissued all of them, allowing modern wearers to experience Vacher’s original vision.
Vacher’s output continued to expand across styles and decades. Between 1930 and 1935, he composed a fragrance formula but never named it; known simply as 222, it was finally completed and released in 2014, decades after its conception. Other notable works include Vetyver (1940), a dry, spicy woody chypre for men; Special for Gentlemen (1947), a green, refined masculine; La Rose (1950), elegant and restrained; Whip (1953), a brisk citric floral; Galion d’Or (1968), a woody spicy floral for women; and Eau Noble (1972), an aromatic spicy fragrance designed to transcend gender. Many of these historic creations—Snob, Brumes, Iris, Vetyver, La Rose, 222, Whip, Tubereuse, Eau Noble, Special for Gentlemen, and Bourrasque—can now be purchased directly from Le Galion, alongside a modern reinterpretation of L’Âme Perdue.
Beyond his own house, Vacher played a pivotal role in shaping couture perfumery. In 1938, he created the first fragrance for French designer Jean Dessès: Celui, a charming floral chypre, now discontinued but historically significant. His most famous collaboration came in 1947, when he partnered with Jean Carles to create Miss Dior for the then-emerging Christian Dior—a revolutionary chypre that redefined postwar femininity. This was followed in 1963 by Diorling, a light floral chypre of exquisite polish, sadly no longer in production, though Miss Dior continues today in updated form through Dior.
Between these milestones, Vacher returned to Jean Dessès to create two more exceptional works: Gymkana (1960), a leathery chypre for men, and Kalispera (1962), a sweet floral woody fragrance for women. Kalispera stands as a testament to Vacher’s perfectionism—it required 384 trials and was constructed from 68 individual components, underscoring his belief that true elegance was born of patience and precision.
After Paul Vacher’s passing in 1975, the creative torch passed seamlessly to his daughter, Dominique de Urresti, who became head perfumer and director of Le Galion’s research laboratory. She also assumed the role of managing director, working alongside her Spanish husband Manuel, who oversaw export and marketing, while Mrs. Vacher served as president of the company. This familial continuity preserved the house’s artistic integrity and ensured that its philosophy remained intact.
Dominique’s path to perfumery was almost accidental. She once remarked that, had she not become a perfumer, she would have chosen to be a surgeon—a telling comparison that reflects her precision and discipline. She apprenticed beside her father for ten years after he initially persuaded her to join him “just for a few months.” Surrounded by scent from childhood, she developed what she called a memory of smell, learning to recognize and recall the nuances of a red rose or a single flower with remarkable accuracy. After her apprenticeship, she spent an additional eight years working independently in the laboratory, honing her own voice while remaining deeply rooted in her father’s classical legacy. It was within this lineage—of rigor, artistry, and emotional intelligence—that Megara would ultimately take shape.
Dominique's Story:
Dominique de Urresti created her perfumes within an atmosphere that felt almost ceremonial in its devotion to craft. Her “top secret” laboratory was hidden inside an elegant Edwardian château in Neuilly-sur-Seine, just beyond Paris, which also served as Le Galion’s headquarters. The setting itself reflected the values of the house: discreet, refined, and steeped in tradition. Inside, her perfume organ was surrounded by shelves crowded with bottles, jars, cartons, and tubs—each containing precious liquids derived from fixatives, flowers, herbs, spices, grasses, barks, roots, leaves, and oils. The space was dense with history and aroma. Dominique was outspoken in her distrust of synthetics, believing they lacked life and evolution. “They are not alive,” she said. “They have no evolution and always smell the same. A perfume must open and close.” For her, fragrance was meant to breathe, unfold, and transform on the skin.
As head perfumer, Dominique personally traveled the world to inspect harvests and select only the finest raw materials. From England, she sourced blackcurrants, nutmeg, and cinnamon; from Egypt, she once purchased an extraordinary £100,000 worth of jasmine, enough to supply the house for an entire year. The figures involved speak to both the scale of her responsibility and the uncompromising standards she upheld. A single bottle of civet cost her £800, while another bottle held jasmine from Grasse valued at £5,000. These were not luxuries but necessities in her view—essential tools for creating perfumes with depth, longevity, and emotional resonance.
When asked about her favorite flower, Dominique invariably named jasmine, a choice rooted in memory as much as aesthetics. Jasmine formed the backbone of many of Paul Vacher’s most beloved compositions and was woven into her childhood through scent. She once described Sortilège as a magnificently balanced “aria,” composed of costly jasmine, wild lily of the valley, Bulgarian rose, ambergris, and sensual musk. She explained that jasmine’s expense lies in its fragility and labor: the blossoms must be gathered at night, when they are fully open, and vast quantities are required to produce even a small amount of essence. Similarly, she noted that it takes over 2,000 pounds of rose petals to distill just one pound of rose oil—figures that underscore the quiet extravagance of classical perfumery.
She also recounted a remarkable story from the 1930s, when her father created a bespoke perfume made entirely of iris, one of the most costly materials in perfumery. The fragrance was commissioned for a single habituée of the French Riviera and was never intended for public release. Ultimately, the expense proved unsustainable, and the perfume was discontinued. The story ends on a haunting note: the woman for whom it was created reportedly died just three months after learning it would no longer be made. Today, iris lovers can find a modern interpretation of this theme through Le Galion’s updated iris fragrance, a distant echo of that vanished indulgence.
Dominique believed that a true nose must possess extraordinary discernment. She could smell dozens of rose essences in a single day and identify each one without confusion. Between evaluations, she smoked a cigarette to “clear” her nose, comparing the habit to the way wine tasters cleanse their palate with bread. Though this practice ran counter to professional advice—even then—Dominique was unapologetic. A heavy smoker, she trusted her instincts and her experience, convinced that she understood her own senses better than anyone else.
She described her creative process as intensely internal and intuitive. “I always think in smells,” she said. “There are no rules about creating a fragrance. You just follow your intuition.” To her, scent lived in the mind the way music lived in a composer’s head. She carried olfactory memories like notes, able to summon a smell instantly—even one she had not encountered for years. Creating a fragrance, she explained, was like composing a symphony: hundreds of notes arranged into harmony, tension, and release.
Security around the laboratory was extreme, designed to prevent industrial espionage. The space was so secretive that Dominique refused to allow cleaning staff inside. Thirty-three years’ worth of dust coated the bottles, undisturbed. “No one is allowed to touch the bottles except for me,” she insisted. She knew precisely where everything was, and even the slightest displacement would disrupt her work. Creating a new perfume could involve over 300 ingredients, and absolute order—according to her own mental map—was essential.
Interestingly, the formulas themselves were not kept in the laboratory. Instead, three copies were secured in bank vaults: one in France, one in Switzerland, and one in Canada. This redundancy ensured that even in the event of catastrophe, the knowledge would survive intact—an elegant blend of paranoia and prudence befitting a house of Le Galion’s stature.
Despite her loyalty to her own creations, Dominique openly admitted that she wore perfumes by other manufacturers, a quiet but meaningful acknowledgment of her respect for fellow perfumers’ talents. Perfume, she said, was the first thing she applied each morning, always after bathing, while the skin was still damp and receptive. She believed in generous, almost ritualistic application: layering scented soap, bath oil, powder, cologne, and toilet water, applied freely over the body. She wore perfume on her clothes, her neck, arms, hair, and even her nightgown—treating fragrance as a constant companion rather than a finishing touch.
Her advice to wearers was practical and reverent. Once a bottle is opened, she urged, use it. Store it in a cool, dark place—ideally the bedroom, never the bathroom, where heat and humidity threaten its integrity. These, she warned, are the natural enemies of perfume. In her view, fragrance was a living thing, meant to be enjoyed fully and cared for thoughtfully—an art form as alive on the skin as it was in the bottle.
Megara:
After three painstaking years devoted to composition and refinement, Dominique de Urresti created what would become her most personal and meaningful work for Le Galion: Megara, a modern green floral chypre conceived as a tribute to her father, Paul Vacher. More than a new release, Megara represented a dialogue between generations—classical structure reimagined through a contemporary lens. The fragrance opens with luminous green notes that feel crisp and alive, yet beneath this freshness lies a warmth that is unmistakably sensual. It is both invigorating and intimate, a balance that reflects Dominique’s belief that a perfume must evolve, revealing different facets as it wears.
Megara was her pride and joy: youthful, sophisticated, and unapologetically alluring. Its composition was formidable, containing over 200 ingredients, among them Bulgarian rose, vetiver, ylang-ylang, and, at its heart, Dominique’s beloved jasmine. These materials were woven together with extraordinary complexity and precision. Dominique joked that the formula was “a foot long,” a remark that captured both the technical ambition of the scent and her affection for it. Appropriately, the formula was kept locked away in a massive safe deep within the château—a symbolic safeguard for what she regarded as one of Le Galion’s crowning achievements.
The name Megara, inspired by ancient Greece, was chosen with intention. It evoked classical elegance, strength, and timeless beauty—qualities Dominique felt had been slipping from the perfume world. With Megara, she sought to restore an aura of cultivated sophistication, proving that modernity need not abandon depth or artistry. The fragrance’s green floral chypre structure paid homage to traditional French perfumery, while its radiance and sensuality placed it firmly in its own time.
Dominique’s achievement is all the more striking given her position as one of the few female noses in a profession overwhelmingly dominated by men. Her passion for perfumery had been nurtured from childhood by her father, who brought home aromatic essences and fragrant oils, recounting vivid stories of their origins. These early experiences shaped not only her technical skill but also her emotional relationship with scent—an understanding that perfume is as much narrative as it is chemistry.
Megara was, above all, a fragrance created by a woman for women. Dominique firmly believed that women understood fragrance on a deeper, more instinctive level. When Jean-Paul Guerlain once teased her by suggesting that only men could create great masculine scents—and that a woman could never know how a man wished to smell—she replied with characteristic wit: “Only a woman can know what is good on a man. Non?” Confident in her intuition, she told him her next composition would prove her point. Notably, Guerlain later admitted that he admired Megara, a quiet validation of her talent and conviction.
Tragically, Megara would become the final fragrance launched by Le Galion before the house folded in the mid-1980s. Its disappearance has only heightened its mystique, transforming it into a symbol of what the brand once represented at its height: elegance, craftsmanship, and fearless creativity. Today, devoted admirers continue to hope that the revived incarnation of Le Galion will one day reissue this long-lost masterpiece, allowing Megara’s luminous, sensual spirit to once again take its place in the world of fine fragrance.
Fragrance Composition:
So what does it smell like? Megara is classified as a floral fragrance for women. It starts with a fruity, green aldehydic top, followed by an elegant floral heart, resting on a sensual powdery base. It is described as fresh and green with unusual overtones and mixed floral back note. Megara is a concentrated and highly tenacious fragrance, designed to leave a lasting, radiant impression. Its composition is built around a classic floral heart of jasmine and rose, whose richness and elegance are warmed and rounded by creamy sandalwood.
Powerfully diffusive yet balanced, Megara feels youthful and joyful, projecting an effortless brightness that suits all settings. Its simplicity gives it clarity and charm, while its strength ensures presence—making it a versatile scent that feels lively, confident, and enduring wherever it is worn.
- Top notes: bergamot, hyacinth, aldehydes, peach, raspberry
- Middle notes: gardenia, lily of the valley, honey, jasmine, orris, rose, orchid
- Base notes: oakmoss, sandalwood, musk, ambergris, cedar
Scent Profile:
Megara opens with a vivid, almost crystalline brightness, as though sunlight has struck a bowl of freshly crushed fruit and green stems at once. Bergamot, likely sourced from Calabria in southern Italy, leads the impression—its zest sparkling, slightly bitter, and aromatic, prized from this region for its unusually refined balance between citrus freshness and floral nuance. Alongside it, aldehydes shimmer like cool air: clean, abstract, and luminous. These aroma molecules do not mimic nature directly; instead, they amplify it—adding lift, diffusion, and a silvery radiance that makes the natural materials feel more expansive and alive.
Hyacinth contributes a green, watery floral note, damp and vegetal, evoking snapped stems and dewy petals. The fruity accents of peach and raspberry follow, soft and velvety rather than syrupy—peach offering a tender, skin-like sweetness, raspberry a faint tartness—rounding the opening with warmth while preserving its freshness. Together, these notes feel youthful and buoyant, green yet gently indulgent.
As Megara unfolds, the heart blooms into a richly layered floral bouquet, classical in structure yet unexpectedly sensual. Jasmine, the soul of the composition, likely drawn from Egypt or Grasse, exudes its unmistakable duality: indolic warmth and luminous sweetness, floral yet faintly animalic, giving the fragrance its living pulse. Rose, almost certainly Bulgarian rose from the Valley of the Roses, adds depth and nobility—its oil prized for its complexity, where honeyed petals, spice, and a subtle green edge coexist.
Gardenia brings creamy opulence, buttery and white, while lily of the valley—recreated through aroma chemicals such as hydroxycitronellal—introduces a clean, bell-like freshness that brightens the bouquet without overwhelming it. Honey drapes the florals in a golden glow, smooth and faintly animalic, enhancing the warmth of the jasmine and rose. Orris, distilled from aged iris rhizomes, contributes a cool, powdery elegance with hints of violet and suede—luxurious and restrained. Orchid, more suggestive than literal, adds an exotic, softly abstract floral tone, binding the heart together with quiet mystery.
The base of Megara settles slowly and sensually, revealing the fragrance’s true tenacity and depth. Oakmoss, once the backbone of classic chypres, anchors the composition with its forest-like dampness—earthy, slightly bitter, and deeply green—giving structure and gravitas. Sandalwood, creamy and smooth, likely inspired by the richness of Mysore sandalwood, softens the moss and florals alike, wrapping them in milky warmth.
Cedar adds a dry, pencil-wood clarity, lending elegance and verticality to the drydown. Musk, composed of refined synthetic musks rather than animal sources, provides a clean, skin-like softness that enhances diffusion and longevity without heaviness. Ambergris, or its modern aromatic counterpart, contributes a subtle marine warmth—salty, radiant, and slightly sweet—acting as a natural fixative that allows the fragrance to glow on the skin for hours.
What makes Megara remarkable is the way these elements breathe together. The synthetics do not replace nature; they elevate it—aldehydes extending the sparkle of citrus and florals, lily-of-the-valley molecules sharpening clarity, musks amplifying warmth and sensuality. The result is a fragrance that feels fresh and green yet unmistakably warm, powerfully diffusive but impeccably balanced. Megara wears like quiet confidence: luminous rather than loud, sensual without excess. Its clarity gives it charm; its concentration gives it presence. On the skin, it feels alive—youthful, joyful, and enduring—leaving behind a radiant trail that feels effortless, elegant, and unmistakably composed.
Bottles:
The unique bottles for Megara were designed by sculptor Serge Mansau in 1978 and produced in France by Pochet et du Courval.
Megara was available in the following:
- 1/4 oz Parfum Deluxe Spray
- 1 oz Parfum Spray
- 1/4 oz Parfum Splash
- 1/2 oz Parfum Splash
- 1 oz Parfum Splash
- 1/3 oz Parfum de Toilette mini
- 1.75 oz Eau de Toilette Splash
- 3.5 oz Eau de Toilette Splash
- 7 oz Eau de Toilette Splash
- 1 oz Eau de Toilette Spray
- 1.75 oz Eau de Toilette Spray
In 1984/1985, Megara was available in the following:
- Presentations: Smooth crystal bottles, gold cap.
- Related Products: Eau de Toilette; Atomized spray; Atomizer
- Ancillary Products (Bath & Body): Spray
Fate of the Fragrance:
Megara was introduced in 1978, emerging during the final, quietly elegant chapter of Le Galion’s history, a period when the house was still deeply committed to classical French perfumery despite a rapidly changing market. Its life on the shelves was relatively brief. When Le Galion ceased operations in the mid-1980s, Megara was discontinued along with it, and all evidence suggests that production likely ended around 1985. After that point, the fragrance appears to vanish from contemporary advertising and promotional materials, a silence that speaks to the brand’s gradual withdrawal rather than a deliberate farewell. As a result, Megara occupies a poignant place in perfume history—remembered as both a refined modern creation of the late 1970s and the final luminous expression of a venerable house before it faded from view.