photos from Victoria and Albert Museum

Colours fascinated Elsa Schiaparelli. Her autobiography, Shocking Life, is paved by her colour discoveries, from the blue and red uniforms she designed during the First World War to the oranges and turquoises of Kremlin treasures.

In the first third of her book, however, the colour pink only comes up only to describe her new-born daughter, Gogo. Schiaparelli’s early career was, much like her contemporary Coco Chanel’s, defined by black and white. The first garment she created, in 1927, was a jumper with “a white bow against a white background.” Her first evening dress was, again, monochromatic.

The shocking-pink came thanks to Schiaparelli’s first foray into fragrances. In 1937, while struggling to name her upcoming perfume, she remembered a pink Tête de Bélier Cartier diamond owned by her friend, client and Paris editor for Harper’s Bazaar, Daisy Fellowes. In her autobiography, Schiap (as she nicknamed herself) describes the jewel colour as “bright, impossible, impudent, becoming, life-giving, like all the light and the birds and the fish in the world but together, a color of China and Peru but not of the West – a shocking colour, pure and undiluted.” She asked Surrealist designer Leonor Fini to create a perfume bottle imitating Mae West curves in that very shade. The perfume was named “Shocking”.


Though the colour wasn’t an immediate hit with her friends or business partners, customers loved the perfume’s colour as much as its smell. Thanks to its success, Schiap discovered how perfume sales can keep a fashion house afloat. The color was extended to blush and lipstick. A make-up advert dubbed the Place Vendôme, where Schiap had her flagship store, “la zone rose.” Schiap quickly adopted the shocking-pink as a house staple, using it in her Surrealist creations. Her first shoe-hat, designed for her autumn 1937 collection, had a shocking-pink heel. Dali loved the color so much he used it for one of his own oeuvres d’art, “an enormous stuffed bear with drawers in its stomach,” dyed in shocking-pink.

The RGB composition of shocking pink is generally seen as 252, 15, 192, a variation of magenta pink sitting somewhere between ultra pink and fuchsia. It has also been called neon pink, or hot pink in America.

Contrary to her couture house, Schiaparelli’s shocking-pink outlived her. Yves Saint Laurent described it as “the nerve of red… an aggressive, brawling, warrior pink” he used in many collections, including his F/W 1980 “Collection Shakespeare” tribute to the Surrealists. John Galliano used similar pinks in his last two Dior Haute Couture collections. Would the master have approved? Christian Dior’s definition of pink, “the sweetest of all colors”, “the color of happiness and of femininity” was more sweet than vibrant.

- Lucie Goulet

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a sucker for a good smell. Whether damp soil, lilies, new shoe leather, inland water, church incense, a clean shirt or old books, almost nothing produces as visceral a reaction as scent. It conjures memory, desire, and potential; a lovely fragrance makes everything nicer, an unpleasant odor makes everything worse. So it’s no surprise I was curious to read Perfumes: A Guide.

At first glance, the book has an encouraging heft, with perfume reviews from page 51 to 366. I was slightly put off by the lack of images, but after reading a few random reviews I discovered this volume had something much better: A sense of humour. Within the first fifteen minutes of leafing through this book, I laughed out loud no less than five times. The authors are clever, imaginative, and in possession of a biting wit. Whether I recognized (or cared about) a particular subject or not, I found myself devouring every review as though I was reading a collection of short stories.

I was also pleased to find the ratings economically democratic. The book includes everything from the cheapest drugstore colognes to the most exclusive high-end fragrances, and it was nice to discover they were equally exposed to praise or censure. In a favourable review of David Beckham’s Instinct, Sanchez declares that “snobbery in perfumery is pointless,” and Turin gives Cacharel’s LouLou (a high school favourite) five stars; “Do not be misled by the fact that LouLou, when found, is likely to be cheap. This is one of the greats.” Lady Stetson also gets top marks. On the opposite side, Chanel’s Allure Homme Sport is described as “being stuck in an elevator for twelve hours with a tax accountant,” and their Gardenia as a “loud, airport-toilet floral.” Ha.

One of my favourite pans in the book is for Givenchy’s Amarige: “We nearly gave it four stars… for Amarige is unmissable, unmistakable, and unforgettable. However, it is also truly loathsome…and at all times incompatible with others’ enjoyment of food, music, sex, and travel.” Of course the first thing I did was run out to smell it. (I was skeptical; I had a friend who wore another Givenchy scent – Organza, I think – and it was divine.) I was both horrified and amused to find this was true: eau de Tire Fire!

The volume does have some problems. First, there is no master index, only an index of Star Ratings (lists of perfumes are arranged according to the authors’ approval of them). Reviews in the book appear alphabetically, so they aren’t hard to find if you know exactly what you’re looking for, but if you don’t, you’ll spend a lot of time leafing back and forth. (Who knew Tom Ford’s name gets top billing in his perfumes?) Second, the writers tend to get very caught up in esoteric description at the expense of detail.

Some scents are highly rated but it would be nice to know more about what exactly makes them so – in a non-subjective sense (top- and base-notes). After smelling Beyond Love, a highly rated tuberose by Kilian, I was instantly reminded of the Anais Anais my sister wore in high school. How disappointing to find that, although the latter was included in the book, there was no mention of the florals it encompassed and I had to consult another book to see if my nose was right. This is also problematic if you are drawn to a certain type of scent, for example, chypres, or amber Orientals. As the reviews are not grouped in any scent-comprehensive way, using this guide to find a scent that might be right for you is hit-or-miss venture.

That said, however, the journey is a whole lot of fun.

-g