Surrender by Ciro (1931)

In 1931, Parfums Ciro turned to the public in search of the perfect name for their newest fragrance, offering a generous $500 prize—a considerable sum during the Depression—to whoever could capture the perfume’s spirit in a single word. The winning entry came from Miss Helen Laird of St. Louis, Missouri, a young woman employed in the perfume department of the elegant Scruggs-Vandervoort-Barney Dry Goods Company, one of the city’s premier shopping destinations. Surrounded each day by the finest perfumes and the women who wore them, Laird had an instinctive feel for language, mood, and allure.

Her choice—“Surrender”—stood out instantly. It felt emotional yet refined, bold yet romantic, and it carried the unmistakable suggestion of giving in to beauty, to charm, to the irresistible pull of a fragrance. The name expressed precisely the mood Ciro sought: a perfume that invited softness, yielded defenses, and created a lingering, enveloping presence on the skin. Laird’s contribution became more than a contest entry; it shaped the identity of one of Ciro’s most memorable creations.

Surrender, released by Parfums Ciro in 1931, carries a name chosen as much for its emotional resonance as for its poetic suggestiveness. The word “surrender,” pronounced as "suh-REN-der", comes from English, rooted in the Old French sur-rendre, meaning “to give over” or “to yield.” It is a word that instantly conjures images of letting one’s defenses fall away—of releasing tension, relinquishing control, and allowing oneself to be guided by feeling rather than reason. It suggests softness, romance, and the quiet intoxication of being swept up in a moment. For a perfume house, such a name promises a scent designed not to dominate, but to coax, soothe, and envelop.

When Surrender appeared, the world was navigating the early years of the Great Depression, a time defined by economic hardship but also by deep longing for beauty, escapism, and emotional relief. The early 1930s are often described as an era of refined glamour: the exuberance of the 1920s had softened, giving way to the sleek lines of Art Deco and the polished elegance of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Women wore bias-cut satin dresses that skimmed the body, hair styled in soft waves, and accessories chosen for streamlined sophistication. The influence of cinema was profound—perfume advertisements frequently borrowed the language of film, hinting at romance, surrender, and emotional transformation.

In this climate, a perfume called Surrender would have resonated deeply. Women of the period often viewed fragrance as an extension of identity and mood, and a name like this hinted at both emotional escape and sensual invitation. It suggested a fragrance meant to be worn during languid summer evenings, or in private moments when one wanted to feel delicate, cherished, or quietly alluring. The idea of “surrendering” in scent implied yielding to beauty, inviting tenderness, and letting the perfume soften the sharper edges of daily life.

Translating this name into scent, Ciro crafted a white floral oriental described as a light magnolia perfume—airy, creamy, and radiant, yet with enough depth to linger for hours. Magnolia in perfumery is associated with warm climates, luminous petals, and a subtle buttery quality that never overwhelms. In Surrender, the magnolia effect is brightened with greener facets, making it fresher and more buoyant than L’Origan, the iconic floral-oriental to which it was often compared. While it shared the same general fragrance family, Surrender was gentler, less ornate, and more fluid in character. It offered a tender, lulling rhythm rather than the operatic drama of earlier orientals.

What truly distinguished the fragrance, however, was its vetiver undercurrent. Vetiver, rarely used so prominently in feminine compositions of the time, added a quiet, grassy dryness that grounded the florals and gave the perfume a steady pulse. Described as “a delicious note based on vetiver,” this subtle earthiness prevented the scent from becoming overly sweet or powdery. Instead, it created a soft contrast—a tug between airy magnolia and the cool, whispering darkness of vetiver. That interplay made the fragrance feel contemplative, soothing, and emotionally immersive.

In the broader context of 1930s perfumery, Surrender aligned with trends toward lighter florals and more delicate orientals, yet it also stood apart. Many floral-orientals of the period leaned toward opulence and spice; Ciro’s interpretation opted instead for tranquility, brightness, and a more modern, uncluttered style. Its green magnolia theme and vetiver backbone gave it a nuanced elegance that gently echoed its name. Women who wore it would have experienced a fragrance that invited them to exhale—to loosen their emotional grip and allow the perfume’s soft harmony to carry them.

In essence, Surrender was a fragrance that reflected its time: a perfume born in an era hungry for gentleness, comfort, and beauty, offering the wearer a moment of release in a world undergoing profound change.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Surrender is classified as a white floral oriental fragrance for women and was described as a light magnolia scent perfect for warmer weather. Heady scent that lingers for hours. Greener than L'Origan but otherwise quite similar; not as much character and strength. 

• Top notes: bergamot, mandarin orange, lemon, petitgrain, coriander, pepper, lily of the valley, neroli, honeysuckle and violet leaf
• Middle notes: lavender, jasmine, tuberose, magnolia, carnation, violet, iris, ionone, orange blossom, carnation, clove, isoeugenol, rose, heliotrope, heliotropin, ylang ylang
• Base notes: galbanum, patchouli, vetiver, vetiveryl acetate,  oakmoss, vanilla, benzoin, ambergris, ambreine, civet, musk, musk ketone, frankincense, sandalwood, tonka bean, labdanum, frankincense, Peru balsam, tolu balsam, cedar, opoponax, orris

 

Scent Profile:

Surrender unfolds like a slow, luminous exhalation—its opening glimmering with green light, its heart drenched in white floral warmth, and its base humming with a deep, resinous glow. It was described as a light magnolia scent for warm weather, yet beneath that airiness lies a surprisingly intricate architecture. Smelling it ingredient by ingredient reveals how this white floral oriental creates its lingering, lulling rhythm—greener and more transparent than L’Origan, but woven from many of the same threads.

The first breath of Surrender feels like stepping into a garden just as morning breaks. Bergamot, likely from Calabria, brings its unmistakable clarity—bright citrus with a floral edge that gives the perfume its initial lift. Calabrian bergamot is prized for its balanced character: neither too sharp nor bitter, but rounded and sparkling. Alongside it, mandarin orange contributes a softer sweetness, the kind of citrus that feels tender rather than crisp, while lemon sharpens the composition with its brisk, almost effervescent cut. Petitgrain adds greenery right away. Distilled from the leaves and twigs of the bitter orange tree, it smells woody, leafy, and a little floral—bridging the citrus and the blossoms to come. It gives the opening the freshness of crushed stems.

The spice elements—coriander and pepper—introduce a subtle hum beneath the citrus sparkle. Coriander is unexpectedly soft: herbal, nutty, slightly sweet. Black pepper contributes a dry, radiant heat, never overtaking the flowers but energizing them.Then the green bloom begins. Lily of the valley, recreated here with delicate molecules, smells watery, silvery, and pure, like white petals floating in cool shade. Neroli, distilled from Tunisian or Moroccan orange blossoms, brightens everything with its honeyed-green purity—bittersweet, clean, and effervescent. Honeysuckle adds gentle sweetness, dewy and slightly fruity. Violet leaf brings a cool, aqueous greenness, almost cucumber-like, giving the perfume the fresh verdancy noted by early wearers. These top notes create the perfume’s signature freshness: green, airy, uplifting, and perfect for warm weather.

As the citrus-light fades, Surrender becomes a soft, white floral tapestry. The magnolia impression begins to emerge through layers of blossoms. Lavender forms a bridge into the heart, adding a faint aromatic coolness. Its herbal softness keeps the white florals from turning overly sweet.

The trio of jasmine, tuberose, and magnolia provides the main floral body. Jasmine is luminous and honeyed; tuberose is creamy and narcotic; magnolia smells like lemon-tinged petals warmed by the sun. Together, they create the heady but airy magnolia effect that the perfume was known for.
Carnation, spiced with hints of clove, adds body and a gentle piquant warmth. In fact, clove itself and isoeugenol—a key aroma molecule replicating clove’s spiced-floral quality—deepen this effect. The natural clove gives the perfume its floral spice, while the isoeugenol threads that spice more smoothly through the entire bouquet.

Violet and its key molecule ionone bring a powdery, velvety softness. Violet absolute is earthy and floral; ionone, derived from the breakdown of carotenoids, smells like violet petals transformed into fragrant air—ethereal, sweet, nostalgic. This pairing enhances the magnolia’s delicate radiance.
Iris introduces elegance with its cool, buttery, slightly dusty presence—a refined counterpoint to the lush white blooms.

Orange blossom returns in the heart, deepened and more sensual than in the top. Rose brings a gentle blush of warmth, and ylang ylang, especially prized when sourced from the Comoros, adds a creamy, banana-like floral richness with touches of spice. Heliotrope and heliotropin create a soft blanket of almondy, vanillic sweetness—powdery, comforting, and faintly reminiscent of sugared petals. The natural heliotrope is creamy and floral; heliotropin (piperonal) amplifies its soft-focus warmth and extends the delicacy into the base. Together, these middle notes form a heart that is radiant, romantic, and slightly nostalgic—lush without heaviness.

As Surrender settles, the oriental facet emerges in a base rich with balsams, woods, and musks.
Galbanum, a resin with sharp green intensity, keeps the drydown cool and fresh even as the heavier notes unfold. Its emerald bitterness reinforces the “greener than L’Origan” impression. Patchouli provides earthiness and depth; vetiver adds dry, grassy smoke. Vetiveryl acetate, a cleaned-up derivative of vetiver, brings a smoother, more polished version of vetiver’s woody-green theme—refining rather than replacing the natural note. Oakmoss brings the classic chypre undertone: earthy, forested, subtly salty. It adds sophistication and helps the perfume cling to the skin in soft velvet.

Then the balsams arrive: Benzoin – sweet, resinous, with hints of vanilla and polished wood. Labdanum – warm, leathery, ambery. Peru and Tolu balsams – smoky, sweet, softly medicinal resins that anchor the floral warmth. Opoponax – deep, honeyed, almost incense-like. Frankincense, appearing twice in this structure, adds a liturgical brightness—lemony, resinous, and serene. It lifts the heavier balsams and gives the drydown a spiritual, floating quality. 

Ambergris (and its synthetic echo, ambreine) contributes a salty, skin-like radiance. Ambergris lends the perfume its longevity and sense of soft diffusion; ambreine smooths and enhances this glow. Civet and musk add subtle animalic warmth—soft, purring, sensual without overt heaviness. Musk ketone, a classic nitro-musk, contributes a powdery, warm, slightly sweet haze that wraps the composition in a gentle aura. The woods complete the foundation: Sandalwood – creamy, warm, milky, especially prized when sourced from Mysore. Cedar – dry, pencil-shavings clean. Orris – powdery, buttery, quiet but persistent. Tonka bean, with its coumarin-rich almond warmth, gives the perfume a tender finish, melding with vanilla to soften the resins and woods.

Surrender opens green and sunlit, blooms into a white floral heart saturated with creamy magnolia light, and dries down into a warm, resin-glowing oriental softened by woods, musk, and moss. The interplay of natural florals and skilled use of synthetics—ionone, heliotropin, isoeugenol, musk ketone, ambreine, vetiveryl acetate—creates a fragrance that feels both luminous and lingering. It is gentle yet long-lasting, romantic yet serene—an olfactory invitation to release tension, soften the mind, and, as its name promises, surrender.

L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

"Surrender by Ciro: a perfume with a lulling rhythm that charms you with a delicious note based on vetiver."

Bottles:

 In 1931, the debut presentation of Surrender appeared as a limited edition housed in a specially commissioned Baccarat crystal flacon. This luxurious release was presented in a modernistic gray velvet box set over a wooden base wrapped in silver foil. Its construction subtly echoed the sloped silhouette of Georgian knife boxes, giving the design a refined historical reference while remaining thoroughly contemporary in spirit.

The box opened on a hinged lid that folded fully backward, revealing the crystal bottle nestled within a precisely cut recess. The interior was lined in silver foil and backed with a genuine mirror, a thoughtful detail that heightened the sparkle and refraction of the faceted crystal. Standing about 7.5 inches tall, the box featured two narrow grooved silver-toned ornaments on the exterior—details that evoked the clean, vertical lines of a skyscraper. A 1931 advertisement captured this modern flair, calling Surrender “the newest and smartest of modern perfumes… in handsome sky-scraper velvet box in gray.”

The Baccarat bottle itself was crafted in clear crystal with a diamond-faceted octagonal form and a conforming eight-sided stopper. The underside was etched “Bottle Made in France” and “Baccarat.” For this edition, a gilded enamel collar encircled the neck, lettered in black with “Ciro Paris France.” One face of the bottle also carried the name Surrender in gilded script with a black outline, paired again with “Ciro Paris France.” With the stopper in place, the bottle stands approximately 4⅝ inches tall and holds 2.8 ounces of parfum.

Many surviving boxes no longer show the original gray tone; exposure to tobacco smoke over time has often shifted the velvet to a warm brown, a change frequently seen in period examples.

The smaller Baccarat box was also housed in a velvet box, but this one was not hinged.

The Baccarat bottle was also used for a less expensive presentation, probably during the 1940s when luxury boxes were unattainable.

Diamond Bottles:

• 2.8 oz Baccarat bottle stands 4⅝ inches tall
• 1.5 oz Baccarat bottle stands 4" tall
• 0.66 (2/3 oz) bottle stands 4.5" tall.
• 0.75 (3/4 oz) bottle stands 3.5" tall.
• 1 oz bottle stands 3" tall.
• 0.5 (1/2 oz) bottle stands 2.25" tall.

By 1934, the presentation of Surrender shifted to a more economical format, and the smaller sizes such as the 0.75 oz and the 1.5 oz of the diamond-cut bottle reflected this new direction. These later flacons no longer carried the gilded enamel band encircling the neck, a distinguishing feature reserved for the 1931 limited edition. Instead, they were fitted with simple silver paper labels. Likewise, the gilded hand-applied lettering once placed directly on the shoulders of the Baccarat bottle was discontinued. In its place, manufacturers used clear acetate labels embellished with gilded serigraphy, offering a streamlined and less costly alternative to artisanal decoration.

The outer packaging was also simplified. The earlier velvet-covered, mirrored presentation case was replaced by slip-cover cardboard boxes decorated with a printed pattern of broken horizontal lines. Inside, the bottle no longer rested within a recessed cavity; instead, it was displayed upright against a standing wire frame. This updated design maintained a tidy appearance while reducing production expenses, reflecting the practical adjustments many perfume houses made during the mid-1930s.

 

Other less expensive editions were produced by other companies and were contained in different bottles and packaging.  

Esscent:

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

 

Fate of the Fragrance:

Discontinued. Still being sold in 1969.

Oh La La by Ciro (1959)

Oh La La by Parfums Ciro made its debut in 1959, a moment when perfumery was embracing both elegance and modernity. The choice of the name “Oh La La” was deliberate—an instantly recognizable French expression that conveys admiration, delight, or a touch of flirtatious surprise. Pronounced in simple terms as “ooh la la,” the phrase evokes lighthearted glamour, feminine charm, and the effortless sophistication often associated with mid-century Parisian style. Its playful lilt carried an emotional charge: a wink of seduction, a breath of excitement, and the promise of something irresistibly chic.

When the fragrance appeared, the world was in the midst of what we now call the late 1950s—a transitional phase between post-war restraint and the cultural blossoming that would define the 1960s. Fashion emphasized polished femininity: cinched waists, full skirts, pearls, and immaculate grooming inspired by icons such as Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and the rising influence of Paris couture houses. At the same time, youth culture, international cinema, and increased travel began shaping tastes, infusing beauty and fashion with a desire for novelty and cosmopolitan flair. In perfumery, aldehydic florals, chypres, and sophisticated woody blends dominated the market, frequently marketed as modern, luxurious, and unmistakably feminine.

Against this backdrop, a perfume called Oh La La would have appealed to women seeking glamour with a wink of playfulness. The name alone suggested a spirited confidence—the sort of charm that acknowledged tradition while leaning into a more youthful, contemporary attitude. It carried the promise of something stylish yet slightly daring, an accessory for women who embraced elegance without taking themselves too seriously.

Interpreting “Oh La La” in scent, Parfums Ciro delivered an aldehydic woody floral composition that began with a bright, sparkling blend of aldehydes and citrus. This effervescence evoked the crisp gleam of polished pearls or the shimmer of champagne bubbles. A heart of rose and jasmine, warmed by hints of spice, provided a classic floral core—refined but expressive. The fragrance settled into a chypre base enriched with warm woods and ambergris, lending depth, sensuality, and lasting sophistication.

While Oh La La fit neatly within the dominant trends of the era—particularly the continued popularity of aldehydic florals and chypres—it offered its own engaging interpretation through its spirited identity and charming presentation. Rather than breaking entirely from tradition, it harmonized with the tastes of the time while offering a name and character that made it memorable among its contemporaries.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Oh La La is classified as an aldehydic woody floral fragrance for women. It begins with a sparkling aldehydic and citrus top, followed by a spicy floral heart of rose and jasmine, resting on a classic chypre base punctuated with warm woods and ambergris.

• Top notes: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, neroli, sweet orange, petitgrain, galbanum, clary sage 
• Middle notes: hydroxycitronellal, lilial, rose geranium, rose, jasmine, ylang ylang, carnation, clove, eugenol, orris butter, violet ionone,  
• Base notes: labdanum, musk, sandalwood, benzoin, tonka bean, coumarin, vanilla, vanillin, castoreum, civet, cedar, ambergris, patchouli, vetiver, oakmoss

Scent Profile:

The first impression of Oh La La rises in a bright, quicksilver shimmer—those classic mid-century aldehydes that seem to glow rather than smell, radiating a clean, fizzy brilliance like sunlight flashing off polished glass. They lift the entire composition, setting the stage for the citrus that follows. Bergamot, especially prized when sourced from Calabria, lends a tart, elegant greenness unmatched by other citruses. Italian bergamot carries a refined bitterness and a soft floral undertone, making it more sophisticated than lemon or orange alone. 

Lemon adds sharper sparkle, a bright zest that feels almost effervescent on the skin. Sweet orange rounds this with a juicy, sun-warmed sweetness, softening the sharper citrus edges. Then comes neroli—the distilled blossoms of bitter orange from places like Tunisia and Morocco—bringing a honeyed floral brightness with a delicate metallic sheen. Petitgrain, taken from the leaves and twigs of the same tree, adds a crisp, green counterpoint, grounding the airy florals with leafy freshness. A breath of galbanum, the famous Iranian resin known for its piercing, sap-green sharpness, slices through the top in a bold, exhilarating streak of green. Finally, clary sage contributes a musky-herbal warmth, adding a silken, slightly earthy undertone that smooths the transition into the floral heart.

As the aldehydes fade into a soft halo, the fragrance blooms into a richly faceted floral tableau. Hydroxycitronellal, one of the early great synthetic floral notes, creates a glowing muguet-like freshness—dewy, green, and slightly citrus-touched. It acts as a bridge between the crisp opening and the richer florals that follow. Lilial, another iconic mid-century material, adds a soft, powdery lily-of-the-valley glow, creating an ethereal, feminine softness. These synthetics don’t overshadow the naturals; instead, they extend and illuminate them, giving the florals a radiance nature alone cannot sustain. Rose geranium, typically from Egypt, contributes a rosy-green sharpness—peppery, bright, and slightly mint-tinged—while true rose deepens the heart with velvety, honeyed warmth. Depending on its origin, rose oil shifts in character: Bulgarian rose often reads more jammy and lush; Moroccan rose more lemony and airy.

Jasmine, likely from Grasse or Egypt, adds its narcotic bloom—sweet, creamy, and subtly indolic—giving the fragrance its sensual core. Ylang-ylang, particularly exquisite when sourced from the Comoros or Madagascar, brings a custard-rich, slightly fruity warmth, softening the sharper floral edges. A touch of carnation and clove introduces a warm, spicy contrast, while eugenol—the primary molecule responsible for clove’s scent—sharpens the spice with a medicinal, peppery bite. Orris butter, among the most luxurious ingredients in perfumery, lends its characteristic powdery-violet coolness, buttery yet dry, adding aristocratic elegance. Violet ionone, a key synthetic note, reinforces the orris with a soft, violet-petal transparency, introducing a nostalgic, cosmetic softness that feels unmistakably mid-century.

As the fragrance settles, Oh La La reveals a sumptuous, deeply textured chypre base. Labdanum, a resin traditionally harvested in Spain and Crete, brings a leathery, ambered richness—dark, warm, slightly smoky. Its honey-resin depth forms the backbone of the chypre structure. Oakmoss, most prized when sourced from the mountainous forests of the Balkans, adds its unmistakable damp, velvety, forest-floor complexity—earthy, slightly salty, and shadowed with bitter green nuances. Patchouli, often from Indonesia, contributes a dark, earthy-woody richness, while vetiver—especially the superior Haitian variety—adds dry, rooty depth with a faint smoky edge.

Threading through this deep forested base are warm woods: sandalwood, prized for its creamy, milky softness; cedar, with its pencil-shaving dryness; and touches of benzoin, lending a sweet vanilla-amber warmth. Tonka bean and its principal molecule, coumarin, bring almond-tinged tobacco sweetness, bridging the woods and resins with comforting warmth. Vanilla and vanillin add subtle sweetness—vanilla being more rounded and natural, vanillin offering a stronger, crystalline sweetness that enhances projection.

Then come the animalics—hallmarks of 1950s sensuality. Civet adds a warm, musky glow; castoreum contributes a soft, leathery warmth; and the musk accord—likely a combination of early synthetic musks—creates a lingering, powdery softness. These traces evoke the intimate luxury so beloved in mid-century perfumery, shaping a base that feels undeniably feminine, warm, and sophisticated. Finally, ambergris threads through it all with its airy, marine-amber radiance, giving lift and longevity. It softens the resins, warms the woods, and leaves the skin glowing long after the other notes fade—an elegant, sensual echo of the fragrance’s name.

Together, these materials create a perfume that feels both glamorous and mischievous: sparkling and aldehydic at the start, richly floral at the center, and grounded in a chypre shadow warmed by woods, resins, and animalic whispers. A scent that perfectly embodies the spirit of its era—effortless, flirtatious, and undeniably captivating.

Bottles:

You will probably come across this square parfum bottle most often. It is fitted with a goldtone screwcap.

It was available in four sizes:

• 5ml miniature
• 1/2 oz (15ml)
• 1 oz (30ml)
• 2 oz (60ml)

Less commonly found are the hourglass shaped bottles. The parfum flacon has a ground glass stopper in the shape of a fan. Eau de Cologne and Bath Oil was available in a modified form of the parfum flacon  but fitted with a screw cap.

Other bottles were also used.

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Oh La La arrived on the market as a fragrance designed to delight, a scent described in early advertising as “a gay, sparkling scent of woods and amber.” Even in its original perfume concentration, priced at $22.50 for an ounce, it was positioned as a bright, effervescent composition that shimmered on the skin before warming into a soft, ambered glow. Ciro presented it not as a simple perfume, but as a mood—lighthearted, flirtatious, and irresistibly polished.

By 1959, Harper’s Bazaar was calling Oh La La “Ciro’s provocative new adventure in perfume,” emphasizing that it captured “everyone’s most unashamedly romantic dream of Paris.” Their wording reflects how the fragrance was experienced: rose and jasmine formed the heart, touched with just the faintest breath of spice, creating a floral aura that felt luminous rather than heavy. They described it as “sparkling and sultry”—a paradox that made the perfume especially compelling. It offered brightness without sharpness, sensuality without opacity, and an unmistakable Parisian sophistication that women of the late 1950s found deeply appealing.

A couple of years later, LIFE magazine echoed the same sense of romantic fantasy, declaring, “It’s Paris in a perfume—too wonderful for words!” The pricing showed its status: $40 for two ounces, $22.50 for one, and $12.50 for a half-ounce—significant sums for the time. Yet Ciro also ensured accessibility through domestic blends of Eau de Parfum, Perfume Mist, Mist Concentre, and Bath Powder, all ranging from $3 to $5. This versatility helped Oh La La become a recognizable household fragrance, an accessible luxury that promised a whisper of Parisian glamour in everyday life. Advertisements from this period often paired Oh La La with Ciro’s other iconic fragrances—Reflexions and Danger—suggesting that the brand saw it as part of a trio emblematic of elegance, daring, and sparkling femininity.

As tastes evolved in the mid-1960s, so did Oh La La’s presentation. The 1965 Harper’s Bazaar announcement revealed the introduction of the “Genuine Spray,” a modern innovation that resonated with a generation increasingly drawn to convenience, precision, and style. The new spray delivered “pure” and carefully measured bursts of fragrance at the pulse points, allowing the wearer to experience the perfume’s structure exactly as intended. The refillable ripple-motif glass flacon highlighted the fragrance’s refined character while adding a contemporary visual charm.

Newspaper descriptions from that same year, such as in The Wichita Eagle, emphasized how this updated format showcased the scent’s character: a blend of woods and amber, accented by rose and jasmine, all housed in a chic white box decorated with a lacy point d’esprit pattern and a jaunty red bow. Everything—from the fragrance to the packaging—was crafted to suggest feminine elegance with a playful twist.

By 1966, trade publications like Soap, Cosmetics, Chemical Specialties noted that Oh La La had become the design model for Ciro’s expanding spray line. Fragrances such as Danger, Reflections, and New Horizons were all introduced in the same ripple-motif flacon, a sign that Oh La La had achieved both commercial success and visual recognizability. It represented the modern face of Ciro during this period.

The fragrance appears to have been phased out around 1969, but it continued to be sold into 1970, leaving a legacy of nearly a decade of admiration. Oh La La remained beloved because it embodied the glamour and optimism of its era: a sparkling aldehydic lift, a glowing floral heart, and a warm embrace of woods and amber. It promised a touch of Paris, a dash of flirtation, and an atmosphere of polished radiance—qualities that defined its appeal then and continue to define its charm in memory today.

Acclaim by Ciro (1950)

Acclaim, introduced by Parfums Ciro in 1950, arrived with a name that perfectly captured the spirit of its era. After a nine-year pause in new releases, choosing the word Acclaim signaled a confident return—an announcement that this fragrance deserved recognition. The word itself comes from English, pronounced “ah-CLAYM,” meaning praise, admiration, or enthusiastic approval. It evokes the image of someone who naturally draws attention without effort: a woman who steps into a room and radiates poise, causing others to take notice. She does not seek applause; it rises to meet her. The name suggests a fragrance shaped by elegance, self-assurance, and a touch of theatrical glamour.

The year 1950 marked the beginning of a new decade and a new mood. Wartime austerity had finally given way to optimism. This transition period—often referred to as the post-war revival—brought renewed interest in luxury, fashion, and beauty. Christian Dior’s “New Look,” introduced only three years earlier, still dominated: cinched waists, sweeping skirts, soft shoulders, and an emphasis on femininity. Women embraced polished hair, bright lipstick, well-fitted dresses, and a refined, sophisticated presentation. Perfumery followed suit, with richer florals, resinous woods, and elegant chypres becoming hallmarks of the new decade. Perfume once again symbolized indulgence and personal expression after years of rationing.

For women of the time, a perfume called Acclaim would have felt aspirational yet attainable. It hinted at confidence and magnetic allure, qualities many women cultivated in a culture that celebrated glamour. This was the age of film stars—Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Gene Tierney—whose beauty and charm defined public fantasies. A fragrance named Acclaim positioned its wearer within that world, suggesting sophistication without overt boldness, admiration without ostentation.

Interpreting the name in scent, a “spicy floral forest blend” suggests a composition that balances warmth, sensuality, and freshness. The spicy notes would have added vibrancy and character— clove, cinnamon, and pimento—suggesting self-possession and depth. Florals contributed refinement and femininity, aligning with the decade’s return to romantic, classical beauty. The forest elements brought mosses, woods, and earthy facets, grounding the fragrance and giving it a natural, quietly powerful presence. Collectively, the scent would embody a woman who stands out gracefully, admired for her composure and charm rather than flamboyance.

Compared to other fragrances of the early 1950s, Acclaim both fit its time and offered a distinctive twist. Many perfumes of the era embraced lush florals, aldehydic brightness, or classic chypre structures. The inclusion of a pronounced “forest” character—earthy, resinous, possibly even slightly green—suggested a more introspective sophistication, differentiating it from the big, effervescent florals that dominated department store counters. Its spicy-wooded structure demonstrated Ciro’s willingness to interpret femininity with nuance rather than excess.

In this context, Acclaim was not merely a perfume but Ciro’s statement of renewal—an invitation to celebrate grace, elegance, and the subtle way some women can command admiration simply by being themselves.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Acclaim is classified as a spicy floral forest blend fragrance for women.  

• Top notes: aldehydes, bergamot, citral, petitgrain, lime oil, pepper, cinnamon, cinnamic alcohol, cardamom, nutmeg, pimento, galbanum 
• Middle notes: geranium, hydroxycitronellal, lavender, rose, phenyl ethyl alcohol, jasmine, amyl cinnamic aldehyde, carnation, eugenol, isoeugenol, methyl ionone, ylang ylang, styrax, isoamyl salicylate 
• Base notes: sandalwood, oakmoss, Evernyl, patchouli, ambergris, ambreine, musk, musk ketone, musk xylene, civet, castoreum, vetiver, vetiveryl acetate, Virginia cedar, Atlas cedar, rosewood, guaiac wood, birch tar, Peru balsam, tolu balsam, benzoin, vanilla, tonka bean, coumarin, cistus, costus, opoponax

Scent Profile:

Acclaim opens with a dazzling burst of brightness, the kind that feels like stepping into cool morning air sharpened by spice and citrus. The aldehydes rise first—clean, airy, and slightly metallic—creating a shimmering halo that instantly lifts the composition. Their effervescence amplifies every citrus note that follows, especially the bergamot, whose Italian origin gives it a tangy, tea-like freshness unmatched by bergamot from other regions. The perfume also carries the lemony sparkle of citral, a powerful aroma molecule that pushes the citrus theme into a more brilliant, almost sunlit register. Petitgrain from bitter orange leaves adds a green, lightly woody counterpoint, while lime oil, with its sharper acidity and faint rind-like bitterness, keeps the opening brisk and lively.

Into this luminous citrus rush comes a peppery flicker—black pepper with its dry bite, pimento with its warm, clove-like sweetness, and the dusty heat of cinnamon and cinnamic alcohol. These create a gentle prickle on the nose that hints at the spicy floral heart to come. Cardamom adds a cool, aromatic sheen while nutmeg gives a buttery roundness. Galbanum, vivid and resinous, cuts through the heat with its unmistakable green bitterness. Its emerald intensity feels like snapping a freshly torn stem and inhaling the milky, sappy aroma. Together, these ingredients create a top accord that is both polished and wild—like citrus skins crushed in the hand while standing at the edge of a deep forest.

As Acclaim settles, the heart unfurls into a fragrant tapestry of florals and spice. Geranium brings its peppery-rosy sharpness, brightened by hydroxycitronellal, a soft, dewy synthetic note that smells like the tender green sweetness of spring blossoms. Lavender contributes a whisper of aromatic calm, while phenyl ethyl alcohol wraps the rose note with its familiar honeyed, petal-like softness. Actual rose deepens this effect, lending plushness and a faintly jammy warmth.

Jasmine rises next—opulent, velvety, and illuminated by amyl cinnamic aldehyde, which lends a sun-warmed, fruity-floral glow that makes the jasmine feel more radiant. Carnation, supported by eugenol, isoeugenol, and pimento from the top, creates a spicy clove-like warmth that pulses at the heart of the fragrance. These materials were hallmarks of mid-century florals, bringing elegance and a certain glamorous heat. Methyl ionone introduces a soft, violet-like powderiness that bridges the florals with the emerging woods. Ylang ylang adds a creamy, tropical radiance, while styrax and isoamyl salicylate softly darken the bouquet with resinous, balsamic undertones. The result is a floral heart that feels full-bodied, passionate, and unmistakably 1950s—luxurious but never heavy-handed.

As the base unfolds, the fragrance moves deep into its “forest blend” character. Sandalwood brings creamy, milky warmth, contrasting with the cool, mossy depths of oakmoss. Evernyl, a synthetic moss note, adds clarity and lift to the natural oakmoss, enhancing its forest-floor richness while smoothing its rougher, more animalic edges. Patchouli contributes earthy depth, while vetiver—rooty, dry, and faintly smoky—is refined further by vetiveryl acetate, which polishes the vetiver into something smoother, more luminous, and less grassy.

The fragrance then grows animalic and resinous in the most elegant way. Ambergris, supported by ambreine, lends a salty, diffusive warmth that makes the entire base glow from within. Castoreum brings a leathery richness, while civet adds a subtle feline warmth that transforms the floral heart into something more intimate on the skin. Musk, musk ketone, and musk xylene provide a plush, powdery finish—typical of the era—giving the scent longevity and a soft, sensual aura.

The woods anchor everything: Virginia cedar with its pencil-shaving dryness; Atlas cedar, richer and slightly sweet; rosewood with its rosy-limonene glow; and guaiac wood with its smoky, waxy heft. Birch tar adds a whisper of leather and smoke. The balsams—Peru, tolu, benzoin—soak the base in resinous sweetness, melding beautifully with vanilla, tonka bean, and coumarin, which together create an inviting warmth reminiscent of sun-baked wood, spiced pastry, and soft tobacco. Cistus, costus, and opoponax bring earthy, honeyed, and slightly animalic nuances, completing the fragrance with a deep, resinous hum.

Acclaim, in its full construction, feels like a walk from sunlight into shadow—from sparkling aldehydic citrus to a floral heart warmed by spice, and finally into a richly wooded landscape steeped in resins, animalic warmth, and velvety moss. It captures the poised glamour of its mid-century origins, offering a scent that feels confident, radiant, and subtly commanding—exactly the kind of perfume that earns its name.

Esscent:

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

Fate of the Fragrance:

When Acclaim debuted in 1950, it arrived with the kind of elegance and anticipation that marked Ciro’s most important launches. Contemporary publications captured this excitement vividly. Woman’s Home Companion introduced it with simple assurance—“Ciro’s exciting new Acclaim perfume”—positioning it among the desirable accessories of the modern woman’s dressing table. Priced at $12.50 for a one-ounce bottle, it was marketed as an attainable luxury, refined yet within reach for women rebuilding wardrobes and routines in the first years of postwar prosperity.

Trade publications viewed the launch with equal interest. The Pacific Drug Review emphasized its significance: Acclaim was Ciro’s first new fragrance in nine years, a return after a long creative silence. Retailers were told to expect bottles of “classic design” and consumer-friendly pricing at just $5—an approach likely intended to reestablish Ciro’s presence in a competitive market marked by both optimism and swift modernization.

By 1951, lifestyle magazines were framing Acclaim as the perfect psychological lift for women coming out of winter fatigue. Motion Picture encouraged actresses and fans alike to “perk up your lagging end-of-winter ego with a new perfume,” describing Acclaim as “a beguiling fragrance destined to keep you in the limelight.” This language reveals the fragrance’s intended image: radiant, quietly magnetic, the scent of a woman who draws admiration without demanding it.

In 1952, The New Yorker captured this essence with particular charm: “She’s in the spotlight, without seeking it—everything about her attracts applause and admiration… She certainly deserves Acclaim!” This description shows how the fragrance was framed not only as glamorous but as an affirmation of one’s inherent allure. The message was clear: Acclaim was created for the woman who naturally stands out—gracefully, effortlessly, confidently.

Even as the decade progressed, Acclaim remained on store shelves. Records show it was still being sold in 1957, just as new olfactory trends were beginning to reshape the perfume landscape. Its discontinuation date remains unknown, but the surviving advertisements depict a fragrance celebrated for its refinement, its polished sense of self, and its ability to make its wearer feel just a little more luminous.

In these fragmented glimpses, Acclaim emerges as a perfume perfectly suited to its moment: elegant, modern, flattering, and designed to surround its wearer with the quiet assurance of being admired.

New Horizons by Ciro (1941)

Launched in 1941, New Horizons emerged at one of the most turbulent moments of the twentieth century, and its name was chosen with unmistakable intention. Parfums Ciro—though historically fond of French titles—selected an English name to speak directly to American women whose lives were already being reshaped by the uncertainties of World War II. The phrase suggests a future opening outward, a widening of possibilities, and the promise of brighter days. Its emotional tone is unmistakably hopeful. “New horizons” evokes the sight of dawn breaking over a distant landscape, a slow wash of color that hints at renewal, resilience, and a steady, reassuring optimism.

The early 1940s—defined by rationing, mobilization, and heightened patriotism—were years in which glamour did not disappear but instead adapted. Women entered the workforce in unprecedented numbers, yet their desire for small luxuries remained intact. Fashion embraced tailored silhouettes, practical fabrics, and an understated elegance shaped by wartime austerity. Perfumes, too, leaned toward compositions that felt comforting, wearable, and uplifting—fragrances that could brighten the spirit even when materials were restricted. In this environment, the name New Horizons carried powerful resonance. It offered emotional reassurance in an era when so much felt suspended, promising that possibility lay just ahead.

Women of the period likely responded to the fragrance on both symbolic and sensory levels. A perfume called New Horizons would have felt like a gesture toward personal resilience—a way to preserve grace, femininity, and hopefulness even as the world shifted around them. Within the bottle, that message was translated into a light floral bouquet, warm and sweet but never heavy. Described at the time as “a very flowery composition of jasmine, rose, and tuberose,” its structure rose in gentle, elongated lines, much like a horizon expanding into the distance. These flowers—traditional, feminine, and emotionally expressive—embodied continuity, while the airy, uncloying construction ensured it felt contemporary and buoyant rather than old-fashioned.

On the perfume counters of 1941, New Horizons fit neatly into prevailing trends while maintaining its own identity. The era favored soft florals and comforting bouquets, often made with streamlined, accessible formulas that delivered emotional ease. Yet Ciro’s interpretation distinguished itself through its thematic clarity: the fragrance was not simply a blend of flowers, but a carefully built emotional narrative. Its name, timing, and composition worked together to articulate a message of hope and endurance.

In a world craving reassurance, New Horizons extended a quiet promise—one softened by petals, brightened by gentle sweetness, and carried forward on the imagined breeze of a future just beginning to appear.

 

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? New Horizons is classified as a light floral bouquet fragrance for women. Warm, sweet, but not cloying.  

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, bergamot, lemon, orange blossom, methyl anthranilate, hydroxycitronellol, lily of the valley, carnation, hyacinth, benzyl acetate 
• Middle notes: phenylethyl alcohol, jonquil, violet, tuberose, heliotrope, heliotropin, benzyl alcohol, jasmine, benzyl formate, linalyl acetate, Bulgarian rose, rhodinol, Bourbon ylang ylang
• Base notes: oakmoss, orris, vetiver, ambergris, vanilla, vanillin, Siam benzoin, musk and sandalwood, tonka bean

Scent Profile:

New Horizons opens with a luminous shimmer, as though the very air has been washed in early morning sunlight. The first impression comes from Aldehyde C-10, also known as decanal—a bright, citrusy aldehyde that radiates a clean, airy sparkle reminiscent of freshly polished citrus peel. It lends the fragrance its initial lift, a soft effervescence that feels almost champagne-like. This gleam is quickly joined by bergamot from Calabria, prized for its balanced interplay of tartness and gentle floral sweetness. Calabrian bergamot is considered the finest because its oil holds a complex profile—green, lightly herbaceous, and never harsh. Lemon adds a sharper, more crystalline edge, like the zest released from a freshly cut rind. Orange blossom drifts in next, honeyed and softly narcotic, evoking warm Mediterranean breezes stirring blossoms on sunlit branches.

Methyl anthranilate—often associated with the natural aroma of Concord grapes—threads through this citrus bouquet with a velvety, fruity sweetness. It bridges the sparkling top into the floral heart, smoothing transitions with a gentle purple glow. Hydroxycitronellol, a soft floral synthetic closely related to the scent molecules found in lily and rose, adds a dewy greenness, as though petals are still damp with morning mist. Its role is to lengthen the life of the delicate florals while preserving their natural translucence. Lily of the valley appears next in a breath of cool, fresh sweetness—an aroma impossible to extract naturally and therefore recreated through carefully crafted molecules. Here its green, silvery freshness tempers the sweetness around it. Carnation lifts the composition with its characteristic spiced clove-like note, adding a faint peppery warmth. Hyacinth follows with its crisp, springlike coolness—watery, green, and faintly floral—while benzyl acetate contributes a fruity, jasmine-tinged nuance that enhances the radiance of the unfolding bouquet.

The heart of New Horizons unfolds like a full garden at its moment of perfect bloom. Phenylethyl alcohol, one of the principal natural molecules found in rose, gives the bouquet its gentle, rosy freshness—soft, slightly green, almost tender in character. Jonquil adds a richer, honey-saturated floral tone, warmer and more narcotic, bringing depth without heaviness. Violet introduces a powdery, airy quality, reminiscent of crushed petals and soft pastel colors. Tuberose, often lush and heady, is handled with restraint here—its creamy, tropical sensuality softened so that it enhances rather than overwhelms.

Heliotrope adds its characteristic almond-vanilla facet, reminiscent of warm skin and powdered confections. This impression is amplified by heliotropin, the synthetic molecule that captures heliotrope’s sweet, gently nutty aroma with precision; it gives the heart a comforting softness that anchors the florals. Benzyl alcohol and benzyl formate, both naturally occurring in jasmine, add lift and floral brightness—fresh, almost sparkling floral tones that prevent the bouquet from becoming too creamy. Jasmine itself enters with its unmistakable radiance: white-petaled, warm, slightly indolic, like night air thickened with fragrance. Bulgarian rose lends richness and velvet—this variety is revered for its full-bodied, honeyed, slightly spicy profile. Rhodinol, a rosy-green alcohol present naturally in many flowers, enhances the rose’s dewy freshness and extends its longevity. Bourbon ylang-ylang contributes a soft, exotic warmth with hints of banana custard, sun-baked petals, and tropical breezes—its quality distinguished by richness, smoothness, and depth.

As the fragrance settles, its base reveals the warmth that gave New Horizons its reputation for being sweet yet never overwhelming. Oakmoss adds a velvety, forest-green richness—earthy, slightly damp, suggesting moss-covered bark after rain. Orris root contributes a refined powdery elegance, somewhere between violet, suede, and clean skin. Vetiver offers a quiet, woody dryness with grassy undertones that ground the fragrance. Ambergris adds a marine, balmy, diffusive glow—never heavy, but a soft radiance that wraps the bouquet in sophistication. Vanilla and vanillin create a creamy sweetness, but balanced to avoid thickness. Vanillin provides a sharper, more crystalline vanilla tone, while natural vanilla contributes warmth, depth, and a touch of smoky sweetness.

Siam benzoin imparts a caramelized balsamic warmth, reminiscent of polished wood and soft resins. Musk brings a gentle skin-like warmth, smoothing the edges of the composition. Sandalwood, likely from Mysore during this historical era, gives the drydown its creamy, meditative woodiness—sweet, milky, and enduring. Tonka bean adds a final whisper of coumarin, blending almond, hay, and soft tobacco nuances that fuse seamlessly into the base’s comforting glow.

In its entirety, New Horizons feels like a fragrant promise—an aromatic journey from brightness to serenity. Every material, from sparkling aldehydes to velvety woods, contributes to a sense of uplift, beauty, and forward-looking optimism. The result is a floral bouquet that breathes warmth, light, and hope, true to its name and the era in which it was born.

The Lincoln Star, 1942:

"Maybe this won't interest the readers, but the fragrance on the handkerchief is Ciro's New Horizons. Poor Ciro, he was a captain in the French army and was killed in a battle shortly before the fall of France. Some of the members of his firm succeeded in reaching New York with a large shipment of the lovely flower oils and business is being conducted from that city for awhile at least, so a lady who conducts a lovely little perfume shop in St Louis told me. She said another French firm succeeded in getting over four million dollars worth of the rare oils over to New York just in the neck of time."  

L'Amour de l'art, 1950:

 "New Horizons by Ciro: Very flowery composition of jasmine, rose and tuberose with very extended lines whose perspective rises to the confines of dreams and unknown scents."

Bottles:

The presentation of New Horizons was conceived with a clarity of purpose—its design rooted in symbolism, elegance, and the optimism the perfume sought to embody. The parfum was housed in a clear glass flacon shaped like a curved trapezoid, its silhouette subtly bending forward in a gesture that recalls the sweep of a horizon line. This gentle curve was more than a decorative device; it mirrored the name of the fragrance itself, suggesting the promise of new vistas and a world just beginning to open again after years of global uncertainty.

Crowning the bottle was its most distinctive feature: a stylized eagle stopper with wings spread in a proud, upward sweep. The eagle—long a symbol of American patriotism—was intentionally chosen to resonate with women living through World War II. It spoke to national resilience, courage, and hope, embodying the spirit of the era in a way that was both quietly reassuring and visually striking. The bird’s outstretched wings also reinforced the idea of striving toward “new horizons,” turning the bottle into both a sculptural object and a message of encouragement. Because New Horizons marked Ciro’s first major perfume introduction in several years, the presentation needed to feel both modern and meaningful, and this combination of gentle curvature and symbolic strength achieved precisely that.

Collectors and perfume enthusiasts quickly took notice of what became known as the “eagle flacon.” It was produced in five parfum sizes, each one architecturally faithful to the largest edition and proportioned to maintain its elegant sweep. The range included: 1 3/4" (1/4 oz), 2 1/4" (1/2 oz), 2 3/4" (1 oz), 3" (2 oz), and 3 3/4" (3 oz). These sizes allowed women to experience the fragrance in a bottle that fit both their budgets and their vanities, each housing the eagle stopper as its defining feature.

For broader accessibility, Ciro released additional versions in a simplified form. These retained the curved trapezoidal silhouette but replaced the elaborate eagle stopper with a practical screw cap. These functional editions came in 1 1/2" (1 1/4 dram), 4 1/2" (2 oz), and 5" (6 oz) sizes, making the fragrance available in a variety of price points and formats. While more modest in detail, they preserved the clean lines and horizon-evoking shape that made the design instantly recognizable.

Contemporary publications reflected the industry’s admiration for the presentation. In 1942, the Drug and Cosmetic Review noted that New Horizons arrived in “a simple bottle with graceful curve,” succinctly capturing its understated beauty. By 1949, Vogue highlighted the enduring appeal of the design with the introduction of a new, more affordable size—described as “a charming scaled-down replica of the curved crystal bottle”—priced at $4.50, while the larger editions stood at $7.50, $12.50, and $35.

Together, these presentations formed a cohesive aesthetic narrative: a modern, hopeful design grounded in patriotic symbolism and shaped to echo the name of the fragrance itself. Even today, the “eagle” flacon remains one of Ciro’s most recognizable and evocative bottles—a small sculptural emblem of the era’s aspirations and the brand’s thoughtful approach to design.

The "eagle" flacon, this bottle came in five sizes:

• 1.75" tall = 0.25 oz Parfum
• 2.25" tall = 0.5 oz Parfum
• 2.75" tall = 1 oz Parfum
• 3" tall = 2 oz Parfum
• 3.75" tall = 3 oz Parfum

Other "eagle" bottles came in a simplified form with a screw cap instead of the eagle stopper, this was used for the Esscent.

• 1.5" tall = 1.25 dram
• 4.5" tall = 2 oz
• 5" tall = 6 oz

 

Introduced in 1953, Esscent – Image de Parfum represented Ciro’s attempt to reinterpret its classic fragrances for a postwar generation that favored convenience, modernity, and intensity of expression. Esscent was formulated as a concentrated perfume—essentially the equivalent of a modern eau de parfum—strong enough to linger beautifully on the skin yet fluid enough to be worn more generously than a traditional extrait. Ciro emphasized that Esscent offered the “image” of their perfumes: faithful to the originals in character, but reborn in a form that suited contemporary lifestyles.

All Esscent fragrances were presented in bottles deliberately modeled after Ciro’s earlier luxury designs. These replicas retained the familiar silhouette of the parfum flacons, with their elegant vertical lines and distinctive shoulders, but were crafted in pressed glass rather than hand-cut crystal. Instead of a ground-glass stopper, each bottle carried a gleaming gold-plated screw cap, making the perfume easier to use and better suited for repeated, liberal application. The caps themselves were a small marvel of mid-century industrial design—made of Durez phenolic plastic manufactured by the Plastics Division of the Terkelsen Machine Company, then gold-plated to echo the warmth of the amber liquid inside. The overall effect was glamorous yet practical, with a touch of the Space Age optimism of the 1950s.

The packages with four Ciro minis were launched around 1954 and were sold until the 1960s.

A tall, fluted bottle holding 4 ounces of eau de toilette was introduced in 1955. This flacon, in frosted finish, was also used to hold the Velvet Bath.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Introduced in 1941, New Horizons entered the market at a moment when American perfumery was shifting in tone and purpose. Created during the early years of World War II, the fragrance was designed to uplift, reassure, and evoke a sense of forward-looking optimism—an emotional thread that resonated deeply with the women who wore it. During its early decades, New Horizons occupied a distinct place within Ciro’s lineup, balancing a light, sweet floral character with a symbolic message stitched directly into its name and presentation.

The perfume enjoyed a notably long life on the market. Though it was created in the early 1940s, New Horizons remained part of the Ciro portfolio well into the postwar era, its appeal sustained by evolving presentations—from its patriotic eagle-topped flacon to later, simplified bottles and eventually to more modern packaging styles introduced during the 1950s. As tastes shifted through the mid-20th century and the fragrance industry embraced increasingly abstract, aldehydic, and contemporary compositions, New Horizons continued to maintain a loyal following. Its approachable floral bouquet and comforting warmth made it a reliable, beloved choice for women who preferred a classic scent that felt feminine without being overpowering.

By the mid-1960s, however, the perfume landscape had transformed dramatically. Bold chypres, green florals, and novel synthetics had taken center stage, and the older Ciro fragrances gradually receded from department store counters. New Horizons was discontinued sometime around 1965, closing a chapter on a fragrance that had spanned nearly a quarter-century of cultural and aesthetic change.

Yet, its story did not end abruptly. As with many mid-century perfumes, remaining stock lingered in storerooms and on the shelves of smaller retailers. Reports and advertisements indicate that old inventory of New Horizons was still being sold as late as 1970, offering a final opportunity for devotees—and the newly curious—to experience a perfume that had once symbolized hope, resilience, and the promise of better days ahead.