I recently picked up an old extrait de parfum of Vivre by Molyneux at the junk shop in Zushi for just three hundred yen ( £2.27 ). Not in prime condition, the top notes faded, perhaps, but still alluring – a mixture of dark and light. Inscrutable. I couldn’t quite resist it. The perfume intrigued me : it has a pull.








Far less well known that other famous couturiers of the time such as Balmain, Balenciaga, Givenchy and Madame Grès, Edward Molyneux (1891 – 1974) was a British designer who later settled in Paris and became known by those in the know for his ‘impeccably refined simplicity’. According to historian Caroline Milbank, Molyneux was the designer ‘to whom a fashionable woman would turn if she wanted to be absolutely right without being utterly predictable in the Twenties and Thirties’. His skills were thus much appreciated by the likes of Greta Garbo, Marlene Dietrich, Vivien Leigh as well as European royalty. A perfume line was launched with 1932’s debut fragrance, Le Chic.















I first heard a mention of Vivre in the original French version of Luca Turin’s Parfums: Le Guide, first published in 1992 but which I never laid eyes on until around 2006, when Helen sent me a copy in the post. I would feast my eyes on it passionately instead of preparing for lessons in the teachers room, hiding it under other papers; exhilarated (this was the first time I had ever really read anything meaningful and beautiful like this about perfume and it excited me to the core, the marriage of the olfactory, and the linguistic as a way of conjuring a hidden world. It wasn’t very long afterwards that I embarked on similar journey myself, putting pen to paper in my first perfume that I ever wrote – Mitsouko, in 2008), but I still remember the sheer joy of being able to read about a topic that hitherto I had experienced, profoundly, but not seen expressed. Many of the perfumes in that original guide were not possible for me to smell; either discontinued or reformulated into unrecognisability. Lost in France. But while the exacting and very poetic descriptions of perfumes I did know in the book always produced a delicious frisson of recognition, the perfumes I had never smelled, nor was ever really likely to, produced even stronger a yearning in me; a vaguely masochistic ache of desire.











Assessing the nobility of this perfume  – one of the writers on Fragrantica describes Vivre as having an ‘incandescent elegance’, with a smell as cold as marble on the skin of her mother –   I thought it would be interesting to ask New Hampshire based vintage perfume collector and connoisseur Gabrielle Baechtold about her thoughts on this enigmatic perfume – which I happen know is one of her favourites. It also turns out that Gabrielle was actually wearing Vivre vintage parfum, the very time that she met Luca Turin in person.









The Black Narcissus:





I love the idea that you met Luca Turin while wearing Vivre and that he told you it was one of this favourite perfumes. How did this come to pass? Where did you meet him? Did he smell it on you directly and comment on it (knowing what it was?) What made you choose that perfume for that encounter?






Meeting Luca Turin happened through my friend Mark Behnke, who has his own blog Colognoisseur. He is a research scientist by trade and was in contact with Luca Turin, who at the time was doing research work in a Boston area university. There were three of us, along with Mark who met Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez; Ida, who you know ; Catherine Bromberg, from BaseNotes and myself. We all met at a cafe in either Cambridge or Somerville Massachusetts, near where Luca was doing research. I think I wore Vivre that evening because of a comment he had written about it on his on-line blog. It reinforced my love for the scent. I let him smell my wrist during the conversation and said it was Vivre and he waxed poetic about it for a few minutes and lamented it being extinct. He said it smelt very nice on me, again solidifying my fragrance choice.








How did you first come across Vivre?






I had first heard about Vivre by looking through my mother’s magazines and seeing the advertisements for the scent. My first interaction with the scent came years later at the little shop I told you about, Colonial Drug, where I would buy all my Guerlains. I have to say, I was not in love with it upon first smell; I was pretty much a Guerlain cultist at the time, but I eventually purchased a small extrait of it and grew to love it over the years. Aldehydic, floral chypres had not my been my go to at the time, but as the years went by, I grew to passionately love them and for some reason I am wearing them quite often during quarantine now.














Me too. I find that I am wearing aldehydes a lot during the lockdown as well. There is just something so otherworldly and yet comforting about them; you can disconnect from the harshness of reality.  A noblesse of refuge.




In terms of Vivre, I don’t quite know how ravaged the bottle I got the other day is (the hyacinth notes have substantially gone ) but I can still feel that there is something quite distinctive about this perfume. It isn’t quite the usual soft floral aldehyde in the manner of Detchema, and yet it isn’t the leather chypre like Givenchy III etc : it is ALMOST like a hybrid in between. Would you agree? The perfume’s notes include artemisia and coriander;  a fresh green leaf accord; incense and myrrh too, which are unusual in a floral aldehyde. Would you say there was any correspondence in scent construction between Vivre and, say, Nina Ricci’s sententiously brooding floral aldehyde,  Farouche? I personally feel some similarities. 








It is funny that you mention if there were any correspondence between Vivre and Farouche –  one of my all-time favourites –  and there is. They both start out with a big note that announces their arrival, but slowly they start to warm up to you and open up and become much more intimate. Kind of like the punk-rocker with spiked hair you meet, who then confides in you she likes reading Baudelaire in a gauzy silk dressing gown. I would definitely say Vivre and Farouche are cousins, either first or at least once removed.








Another thing I would say is that to me, Vivre feels almost mischievous. It is not a perfume of mere gaiety and joie de vivre. Would you say that musically this perfume was in a major or a minor key? For me a perfume such as Chanel No 5 is definitely major. I think this, like Farouche, is minor. It is not ‘happy happy’ as such; I feel it has a certain vigour and energy that comes from self belief – not as yielding and soft as some others. This person definitely knows who she is. 
G: I feel Vivre is definitely a minor key: it’s a more profound presence.















1. You will love me. I know it. 2. You will be jealous. I know it. 3. You will take me to Venice. I know it. 4. You will never leave me. I know it. 







I know what it means to live…..















BN: Despite the elegant refinement of this perfume, I can see how the words in this seventies’ advertisement (You will never leave me ……...a self-knowing lover’s imperious command) definitely correspond to the smell of the perfume itself. There is something quite compelling, obsessive about Vivre; I think possibly  from the vetiver and leather and the aridity of the oakmoss/sandalwood/myrrh base but without the bitterness of some of the more acrid heavier chypre leathers. This treads a deliciously fine line.







How do you personally feel when you wear Vivre?













When I wear Vivre I feel alive, which is pretty ironic, considering the name, but it does make you feel aware of the moment you are in. There is a juxtaposition in the scent, between the sparkling notes and the dirty floral note. Almost as if you had put a touch of Chanel N°5 on then went out and did some serious gardening; getting your forearms all dirty and smeared with flower nectar. There is something oddly compellingly and comforting in the fragrance, something that makes you want to keep sniffing at your wrist. Something warm and nurturing. This could just be my take on it, though, because my Mama was fond of similar scents and it reminds me of her “skin scent”.











I agree, though. Calming, yet also somehow slightly unsettling.




Gabrielle, you are a great lover of vintage perfume – your collection sounds truly magnificent. Do you still hunt down vintage bottles of Vivre?












I only wear 70’s vintage Vivre. Molyneux first released a scent named Vivre in the 30’s, but that was completely different. They also just released a newer version a few years back and that is utter garbage. The 70s version is the perfect one. I always try to hunt down vintage bottles, especially of the extrait, which can be quite pricey, but I love it.





Another thing I can say about Vivre, after wearing it now for most of the day, is that it develops into the most wonderful melange of hothouse flowers. I had never really noticed that aspect of it before. It is truly sublime. 





BN :




I hope one day that I can smell it on you in person!






A few years back, I remember you once very kindly sent me a very generous spray sample of another forgotten classic from the house – Fȇte (1962). Can you tell us more about that perfume and any others you might have by Molyneux?





















I adore Fête so much. It’s like the lovechild of Mitsouko and Femme with a quick wit about her. Truly and underrated gem. Then again Molyneux as a whole is such an underrated house. I own Le Numéro Cinq by them which was more popular than Chanel’s 5 at one point, but Chanel’s N°5 won in the long run and Molyneux had to change the name to Le Parfum Connu so as to save face. Le Numéro Cinq is a gorgeous scent, aldehydic floral, but with a deep and enticing heart. I also own Le Chic, Rue Royale, Gauloise, Quartz and Initiation by Molyneux all of which are exquisite. Gauloise in particular is a stunner, but each is a treasure.



























Thank you so much, Gabrielle.










My absolute pleasure.
















Filed under Floral Aldehydes, Floral Chypre, Flowers, Vintage


  1. Tara C

    Great interview, and I love that Vivre flacon, so original! Never seen anything like it.

    • Thanks very much. And I know what you mean about the bottle. It occurred to me as I was writing about this, that the self reliant, strong aspect in the perfume is almost like the jagged edges of broken glass.

      Quite cool.

  2. Katie

    Great post! Funny to think of perfume experts meeting just a few miles down the road from where I live (Arlington, MA). I never knew Colonial Drug sold perfumes! I used to see the store as a kid and just thought it was an old fashioned druggist’s. Apparently they’ve moved to Newton so if/when the COVID fog lifts I will make a beeline over there. I was under the impression that there were no independent perfume stores in this area and I’m glad to be wrong.

  3. Neil, thank you so much for letting me share my fragrance love. In particular about one of my favorite houses and one of my truly treasured scents. Vivre is a truly magical scent, one very much of its time (the early 70’s) but also completely timeless.
    I also look forward to the day when we are able to try fragrances together and you can smell some of my treasured scents on me and understand why I am absolutely crazy for fragrance.

    • Robin

      Thank you for that heady ten minutes or so. One of those pieces that I wanted to keep reading long past the last word. I wish this computer had a scratch ‘n’ sniff feature so I could experience all those other amazing Molyneux in your collection myself. I’m totally impressed!

      • Wouldn’t it be great if we had smellivision, then we could have a fragrant sniffing party.

      • I can’t envisage how it would work, but a live conference would certainly be a lot of fun!

      • Me too. Gabrielle has a gorgeous collection, really. I would love some kind of chart which showed the gradations of the chypres, the aldehydes, from powderiest to most ylangy, from major to minor – having so many of the perfumes of that era must make you really sensitive to every last nuance of the differences and similarities between them.

    • Oh I understand that craziness, don’t you worry – I share it too. But I also love smelling how things work on other people, particularly this kind of fragrance that I often can’t get away with convincingly half of the time (No 19 smells perfect when it is right; my absolute apex, it just smells like ME), but half of these floral aldehydes are back o’ the wrist numbers for me to fall asleep to late at night. I would love to smell them the way they were intended.

    • And thanks for doing it. It was fun.

  4. Robin

    Wonderful!!!!! A post to make the most jaded vintage lover giddy again. And the ads and photos are so good.

    I curse the fact I’ve never smelled Vivre in tip-top shape. It’s always been a bit damaged, unfortunately. On paper, it’s just the kind of thing I love.

    I love that you wrote about Mitsouko first.

    I have a great deal of Molyneux Fête and I adore it. “It’s like the lovechild of Mitsouko and Femme with a quick wit about her. Truly an underrated gem.” That is just so succinct and so perfect. I do catch a bit of Farouche in it, too, in that light, dry woodiness at the heart. Again, that minor key.

    • I must seek out the Fete bottle that Gabrielle sent and get to know it better!

      Glad you enjoyed this. I was feeling like something light.

      • Fete is an absolutely gorgeous scent. You really must find it and experience it again.
        Robin, when do you wear Fete? I usually wear it during the cooler months, especially around the holidays. Maybe that is just because it is named Fete and it seems so perfect around the colder holidays.

  5. Hanamini

    Oh Black Narcissus, and commenters, you are naughty. You have made me need to hunt down these scents. The descriptions were irresistible. So I now have Vivre (jagged bottom bottle), Farouche, and Fete happily in my home. After a rotten four months (I lost both my parents), I haven’t been able to wear many of my favourite perfumes, as they’re so associative. So something new and yet old has proved just the ticket to spark some joy. Vivre reminds me of both Caron’s Infini and Estée Lauder’s Super Estee, all air, ozone, dust and light. I’m yet to experience the hothouse flowers. Farouche feels more like Infini with Patou’s Joy, and maybe with some aniseed, fennel, dill as well; translucent powder and vegetables. It somewhat reminds me of Fougère Emeraude by Les Indémodables too (am I just being swayed by the F words?). As for the other F word, I have to yet to properly grasp the Fête in the beautiful bottle; need some brighter garb and days for that. I can’t wait. Thank you for always pleasurable reads.

    • I can’t tell you how sad I am to hear this. Losing both your parents so close to each other must ben extremely difficult to cope with and I truly wish you the best in what must be a very harrowing grieving process. It is what all of us dread, and I still can’t imagine what it is going to be like. I hope it gets easier for you. x

      I agree that though a minor aspect of life in comparison to such a huge impact, perfume can definitely assuage and soothe, and slightly spikey scents like Farouche and Vivre (which I wore yesterday in your honour after wearing this), definitely offer a gentle consolation. Almost any modern perfume is going to end up in crude oud, vanilla or worse, and just irritate the nerves. These vintage scents (I don’t know Fete – please tell me what it is like when you are ready to wear it – or would you like to do a guest review? -) are ideal for some emotional stasis.

      Take care.

  6. Hanamini

    It has been the hardest thing. I’ve dreaded it for a long time; they were both 93 (born and died within three months of each other). Yesterday I wore Weil de Weil to my mother’s funeral. It was her signature scent, along with Shalimar. The Weil de Weil is truly lovely—rich, a bit sour, very floral and green. Have you tried it?

    As for Fete,,,I couldn’t attempt any descriptions as good as the ones above. I tried some again the other day and there was something reminiscent of Puredistance’s Rubikona (which I can only wear in deep winter, try as I might to break the association with Christmas). But then again, I could just be being influenced by the red.

    And yesterday, of all days, in the fading sunlight, sitting by an open window (freezing cold), I tried Nina Ricci’s Capricci and Fleurs de Fleurs. Both winners and something to look forward to for the spring.

    • Again, my sincere condolences.

      Both the Riccis you mention here are EXTREMELY comforting and will be perfect for spring – genuinely they will give solace.

      I have never smelled Weil de Weil ( I only know Antilope extrait, which I adore).

      How beautiful that you wore it to your mother’s funeral .

      • Hanamini

        And I brought my father’s bottle of Kouros back with me. One day, I’ll have the courage to remind myself. I must try Antilope, then.

      • My father’s scent also, though it doesn’t suit him (it suits me and my brother better I must say!). It will be hard to revisit that just for now I would imagine, but good to know it is there.

        For soothing scents, Antilope extrait is one of the absolute best. SO calm and elegant. At first when you first put it on it seems like a lot of others, but as it develops, it becomes more ‘yellow green’ and grass like: there is no other dry down quite like it. We need such perfumes.

        I hope you are doing ok.

  7. Hanamini

    Well, my Antilope arrived (vintage parfum extrait). Still getting acquainted. At first, reminiscent of many things, as you say, and all of them pleasing. To me, it’s the child of Jean Patou Que Sais-Je (but nicer) and Artisan Parfumeur’s Fleur de Narcisse (the discontinued one, still my favourite narcissus). Something definitely brown about it, and I’m not getting a lot of green. An hour later, there is powder; a comforting floral veil reminiscent of Lutens’ Fleurs de Citronnier (but ripe, not greenish lemons). What a perfect name, though! Not a clever one, like Yvresse, but a perfectly suited one. I detect no family resemblance to my beloved Weil de Weil, but I can feel the desire for a larger quantity of Antilope starting already. I’d love to hear your thoughts on Weil de Weil if any ever comes your way.

    • You have got me very intrigued about Weil De Weil now – I hope I do come across it one day, although the vintage perfume is severely drying up here now and I don’t come across anywhere near the amount that I used to. Where do you get your vintage stuff from, by the way – eBay?

      • Hanamini

        Yes, generally eBay but sometimes also Etsy. I so WISH there were little old antique stores near me for finds, but there are none I know of. The idea that there’s a finite supply of certain things frightens me! But—how could I get you some? If you send me your address I could…are you able to see my email address?

      • Hi again.

        Sorry for the delay in response; I got totally caught up in the exhaustion of the beginning of term and then couldn’t find your email which I wanted to reply to – accidentally deleted?

        Could you possibly mail me again? Sorry for the crapness!

        Hope you are doing ok

  8. Sharlet

    Is VIVRE still available?

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