Pétales Froissés by Lanvin was launched in 1926, a time when the world was intoxicated by modernity, glamour, and the artistic freedom of the interwar years. The name, Pétales Froissés (pronounced “peh-TAL froi-SAY”), is French and translates to “crushed petals” or “creased petals.” It’s an evocative and deeply poetic name—suggestive of something once pristine and beautiful, now slightly rumpled or bruised by emotion, passion, or time. This phrase conjures a vision of soft flower petals strewn across a silk chaise, touched by longing or memory. There’s an air of faded romance, perhaps even the suggestion of intimacy—petals crushed underfoot, or pressed between the pages of a love letter. It evokes vulnerability, sensuality, and quiet drama.
The mid-1920s was the height of Les Années Folles—France’s version of the Roaring Twenties. Paris was the epicenter of fashion, art, and avant-garde culture. Women were embracing new freedoms: bobbed hair, shorter skirts, and bolder makeup. Coco Chanel’s little black dress had just entered the scene. Jazz echoed from smoky clubs, surrealism was beginning to take root, and perfumery itself was undergoing a revolution. Fragrance was no longer simply about capturing the scent of a single flower—it was becoming a form of olfactory storytelling, layered, abstract, and richly emotive.
Jeanne Lanvin, one of the most refined couturières of the era, understood the nuanced language of femininity. With Pétales Froissés, she wasn’t offering just a floral perfume—she was inviting women into a moment, a mood. The title itself may have resonated with modern women of the time who were balancing independence with introspection. These were women who had just lived through the trauma of the First World War, yet now found themselves dancing in Art Deco ballrooms and pondering the fragility of beauty and time.
