Gardenia (1937)

When Armand Petitjean introduced Gardenia in 1937, the name was a deliberate choice. The word gardenia derives from the Latinized name of Dr. Alexander Garden, an 18th-century Scottish botanist, though the flower itself is native to subtropical regions of Africa and Asia. Pronounced gar-DEE-nee-ah, the very sound carries a refined softness, conjuring images of creamy white petals, moonlit gardens, and the languid elegance of summer evenings. The association is steeped in luxury, femininity, and a cinematic kind of romance—sentiments reinforced by the flower’s long-standing role as a corsage and bridal bouquet staple.

The perfume’s debut came in the waning years before the Second World War, at a time when France was still outwardly vibrant but increasingly shadowed by political unrest. Within just a few years, the country would enter the Occupied Years, when scarcity, rationing, and quiet resilience shaped daily life. Even under such constraints, French fashion and perfumery clung to ideals of beauty and craftsmanship. Couture houses produced elegantly tailored suits with nipped-in waists and longer hemlines, and perfumes—often aldehydic florals—remained a cherished morale-boosting ritual.

Petitjean lamented what he saw as the fading popularity of fragrances clairs—“clear fragrances” focused on the pure essence of a single bloom, such as lily of the valley, rose, carnation, violet, and, of course, gardenia. The rising dominance of couture-influenced perfumes, with their intricate, sometimes heavy blends, had, in his view, led women away from the grace and restraint that once defined French perfumery. With Gardenia, he aimed to restore this elegance of simplicity, while refining it for the modern woman of the late 1930s.

Recreating the scent of the living gardenia is a challenge: the flower’s fragrance cannot be captured directly through distillation. Perfumers instead built the illusion through carefully balanced accords of jasmine absolute, ylang-ylang, tuberose, and orange blossom, supported by synthetics such as methyl anthranilate, benzyl acetate, and lactones to replicate its creamy, velvety richness. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Gardenia perfumes often followed a standard framework found in perfumers’ manuals, with each house subtly adjusting the proportions to create a signature style. By the turn of the 20th century, modern aromachemicals began to appear in these formulas—sometimes as economical substitutes for costly florals, sometimes as artistic enhancements.

For women in 1937, a perfume called Gardenia would have promised serenity and refinement—an olfactory retreat from the uncertainties of the time. In the broader market, Lancôme’s Gardenia was not a radical departure but rather a sophisticated homage, bridging the classical single-flower tradition with the airy, luminous lift of aldehydes. It honored an enduring floral archetype while offering the freshness and optimism perfectly suited to its era of creation.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? Gardenia by Lancome is classified as a classic aldehydic floral fragrance for women.

• Top notes: aldehyde C-10, aldehyde C-11, Calabrian bergamot oil, Sicilian neroli oil, citronellol, benzyl acetate, styrolyl acetate, Bourbon geranium essence, linalool, linalyl acetate
• Middle notes: lilacine, hydroxycitronellol, bois de rose oil, isoeugenol, cinnamic alcohol, Bulgarian rose absolute, Grasse jasmine absolute, Manila ylang ylang oil, phenyl methyl acetate, terpineol, methyl heptin carbonate, Tuscan violet, alpha ionone
• Base notes: Mysore sandalwood, coumarin, Maltese labdanum, musk ketone, Indian musk ambrette, Siamese benzoin, Levantine storax

Scent Profile:

Gardenia by Lancôme, launched in 1937, unfolds like an olfactory sonnet—its opening a burst of brightness, its heart a lush floral embrace, and its base a velvety whisper of warmth. To understand its beauty, we must take it ingredient by ingredient, as though standing in a perfumer’s atelier, inhaling each note before it joins the symphony.

The fragrance begins with aldehyde C-10 and aldehyde C-11, two synthetic aroma molecules that lend an effervescent, champagne-like sparkle. Aldehyde C-10 offers a waxy, citrusy sheen, reminiscent of freshly polished fruit skins, while aldehyde C-11 adds a crisper, slightly green brightness—together, they give the floral heart a shimmering lift, like morning light hitting dew-laden petals. These are joined by Calabrian bergamot oil, prized for its delicate balance of citrusy freshness and floral softness, the bergamot from Calabria being especially aromatic thanks to the region’s mineral-rich soil and Mediterranean climate. Sicilian neroli oil follows, distilled from orange blossoms grown in the sun-baked groves of Sicily, giving a honeyed, slightly bitter floral note that feels both delicate and intoxicating.

Citronellol adds a silky, rosy nuance, its naturally occurring sweetness enhancing the forthcoming blooms, while benzyl acetate contributes a sweet, jasmine-like fruitiness, soft yet radiant. Styrolyl acetate, with its warm, balsamic richness, adds depth even at this early stage. Bourbon geranium essence, grown on the island of Réunion, imparts a rosy, mint-kissed green freshness, while linalool and linalyl acetate—naturally found in lavender and citrus oils—enhance the airy, clean lift that makes the opening so inviting.

The heart of Gardenia is where the floral tapestry blooms. Lilacine, a synthetic recreating the scent of lilacs in spring, carries a slightly spicy, powdery charm. Hydroxycitronellol offers a sweet, dewy freshness, echoing the green aspect of muguet. Bois de rose oil (rosewood), with its soft, rosy-woody aroma, lends refinement, while isoeugenol adds a spicy clove-like warmth. Cinnamic alcohol, derived from cinnamon leaves, imparts a gentle balsamic sweetness. Bulgarian rose absolute, one of the most treasured floral materials in perfumery, unfurls with its rich, honeyed, deep-petal aroma—Bulgarian roses are famed for their high oil content and velvety complexity.

Grasse jasmine absolute brings narcotic sweetness and indolic depth, a hallmark of French floral luxury. Manila ylang ylang oil, from the Philippines, is intensely creamy and exotic, its tropical warmth wrapping around the sharper floral edges. Phenyl methyl acetate lends a fresh, rose-jasmine brightness, while terpineol, with its lilac-like aroma, weaves subtle powder into the bouquet. Methyl heptin carbonate, a green, slightly fruity note with a violet-leaf freshness, leads us to Tuscan violet—soft, powdery, and romantic. Alpha ionone, the cornerstone of violet perfumes, gives an airy, woody-floral softness that seems to float above the denser blooms.

As the scent dries down, it settles into a warm, embracing base. Mysore sandalwood, sourced from India, is legendary for its rich, creamy, almost milky woodiness—its rarity making it all the more precious. Coumarin, with its sweet hay-like aroma, adds a nostalgic warmth, while Maltese labdanum provides a resinous, ambered depth, enriched by the animalic sensuality of musk ketone. Indian musk ambrette brings a velvety, slightly fruity muskiness, softening the transition from floral to woody. Siamese benzoin imparts a sweet, vanilla-balsamic note, while Levantine storax offers a warm, resinous, slightly leathery undertone.

Together, these ingredients form a fragrance that bridges the elegance of pre-war French perfumery with the complexity beginning to dominate mid-century creations. Gardenia, despite its name, is less a strict soliflore and more a luxurious interpretation of the flower’s creamy, intoxicating allure—enhanced, expanded, and illuminated by aldehydes and a chorus of supporting florals. It is a perfume that would have spoken to women of 1944 as both a remembrance of gentler, more refined times and a symbol of hope for beauty in an uncertain world.

If you want, I can also create a parallel section describing how each of these notes would be perceived in the air over time, so you can show your readers the progression of Gardenia from first spray to drydown. That could make the piece even more engaging.

Bottles:

The Lancôme “Gardenia” perfume bottle, introduced in 1937, is a rare and striking example of early 20th-century French perfume design. The bottle is made of colorless, pressed glass that has been molded into an elegant shape with a rectangular cross-section. Its overall form is curved and subtly trapezoidal, giving it a sculptural, architectural presence.

The neck of the bottle is decorated with a molded basketry motif—a delicate design element that may allude to the natural origins of the perfume’s floral inspiration. Capping the bottle is a beautifully stylized stopper in the shape of a gardenia flower, an artistic flourish that ties directly to the fragrance’s name and character.

This model was designed by Henri Navarre, a renowned French glassmaker known for his refined and modern aesthetic. Henri Navarre of Paris, once a goldsmith and medal-maker, became an artist glassworker in the 1920s.The bottle stands approximately 12 centimeters tall (roughly 4.7 inches), and is now considered extremely rare, making it highly desirable among collectors of vintage perfume bottles and early Lancôme creations. Its combination of artistry, fine materials, and rarity firmly place it among the most prized early bottles produced by the house.

Other Bottles:

Gardenia was also housed in both the Bouchon Vannerie (on left), Borne Carrée (in center) and the Pagode (on right) flacons during the 1930s-1940s.

Borne Carrée (Jasmine) Standard Bottle:

Lancôme’s Gardenia was presented in the house’s very first standard perfume bottle, the Borne Carrée—now commonly known as the Flacon Jasmin—a refined design introduced at the brand’s launch in 1934. Created by Georges Delhomme, Lancôme’s first artistic director, this flacon exemplifies timeless elegance with its cut and polished colorless crystal, square flat body softened by gentle curves and rounded edges, and a clear glass stopper intricately molded with jasmine blossoms—a symbol of beauty and refinement. Often mistaken for Lalique’s work, these stoppers were Delhomme’s original creation, produced mainly by Verreries Le Bresle. The understated yet luxurious Flacon Jasmin became Lancôme’s signature bottle from the 1930s through the 1960s, housing fragrances like Kypre, Tendres Nuits, and Magie. Available in multiple sizes and two main shapes—a standard square and a rarer tall, narrow form—it set the foundation for later iconic bottles such as the Pagode and the Flacon Classique, reflecting Lancôme’s enduring commitment to elegant, harmonious design.

The flacon was available in several sizes—2 oz (4"), 1 oz (3.5"), 0.5 oz (3"), and 0.25 oz (2.75")—to accommodate different price points and gifting occasions, and it appeared in two main forms: the familiar standard square version and a rarer tall, narrow variant. 

"Pagode" Standard Bottle:

Gardenia was also presented in Lancôme’s Pagode flacon, one of the house’s most elegant and enduring designs, used for several of its prestige fragrances, including Magie. Crafted from clear, colorless glass, the Pagode flacon is distinguished by its gently curved silhouette, which subtly softens the rectangular outline and imparts a refined, tactile quality. This curvature, combined with harmonious proportions and softened edges, conveys an understated luxury that contrasts with the stark, angular lines of modernist bottle design. Topped with a concave, rectangular glass stopper that mirrors the gentle curve of the body, the bottle achieves a sleek balance between fluidity and symmetry. Reserved for parfum concentrations, the Pagode flacon was a vessel for Lancôme’s most concentrated and prestigious offerings, transforming the act of fragrance presentation into an art form in its own right.

Bouchon Vannerie Standard Bottle:

Gardenia was also presented in Lancôme’s Bouchon Vannerie standard flacon, a 1940s design that blends refined elegance with a touch of artisanal charm. Its most distinctive feature is the frosted glass stopper, molded in relief with an intricate basketweave pattern that captures the look and feel of handwoven wicker. This tactile detail not only provided visual interest but also evoked the traditions of French craftsmanship, where artistry lies as much in texture as in form. The clear glass body offered a simple, graceful counterpoint to the ornate stopper, allowing the golden hue of the perfume to enhance the overall presentation. Discreetly embossed “Lancôme France” on the base, the flacon carried an air of authenticity and understated prestige, marking it as the work of one of France’s most celebrated perfume houses.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Gardenia by Lancôme, though its exact discontinuation date remains uncertain, was still being sold as late as 1960. This means it enjoyed a lifespan of at least sixteen years—an impressive run for a floral fragrance introduced during the mid-20th century. Its longevity on the market speaks to its enduring appeal among women who appreciated its refined, aldehydic floral character. By the 1960s, the fragrance would have been considered somewhat of a classic, a reminder of the elegance of the 1940s and 1950s when single-flower compositions still held sway in the public imagination, even as perfume fashions began shifting toward bolder chypres, green florals, and modern abstract blends.

The fact that Gardenia persisted through changing decades suggests that it became more than just a seasonal or trend-driven release. For some women, it likely carried a sense of nostalgia—perhaps tied to personal memories of wartime romance, post-war optimism, or special occasions. By 1960, its presence on store shelves would have made it a comforting link to an earlier era of perfumery, when Armand Petitjean’s vision of fragrances clairs still resonated with a devoted audience who valued purity, clarity, and the poetic simplicity of a single bloom interpreted through masterful craftsmanship.