Baccarat Crystal Monocle Bottle c1925

The earliest Lanvin perfume bottles embodied the refinement and clarity of French Art Deco design. These were square-shaped flacons made of clear crystal, their geometry precise and dignified, echoing the clean lines of 1920s modernity. Each was crowned with a flat, disk-shaped stopper, a surface large enough to showcase the now-famous Lanvin mother-and-daughter logo, rendered in either blue or black enamel. This emblem, conceived by Paul Iribe and Armand-Albert Rateau, became the visual shorthand for Lanvin’s house identity, symbolizing both maternal devotion and couture elegance. When placed on a dressing table, the clear crystal caught and refracted the light, while the enameled stoppers offered a striking, graphic contrast.

Among the most prestigious of these early bottles was one produced by Baccarat in 1925. This rectangular-bodied flacon bore the distinguished “Baccarat” mark on its base, affirming its pedigree. Its monocle-style stopper, circular and slightly convex, was decorated with the same iconic image of Jeanne Lanvin and her daughter attending a ball, enameled sharply in black. This design married the artisanal expertise of Baccarat with the elegance of Lanvin’s branding, resulting in a bottle that was as much a collectible object as a vessel for perfume.

These Baccarat bottles were made in various sizes, with documented examples measuring 19.5 cm and 24 cm in height. Their substantial scale gave them a presence suitable not only for private vanity tables but also for display in boutiques, where they would have signaled luxury and permanence. They were used for several of Lanvin’s eaux de cologne formulations, including Cross Country, Friction Jeanne Lanvin, Après Sport, and Où Fleurit l’Oranger. These colognes, often fresher and lighter than the house’s signature extraits, paired perfectly with the clarity of the crystal, the bottles themselves evoking purity and vitality.

Together, these early crystal and Baccarat flacons demonstrate how Lanvin, even from its first forays into perfumery, elevated the presentation of fragrance into an art form, aligning with couture-level craftsmanship and setting a standard for beauty that extended well beyond scent alone.

Le Chypre (1923)

In 1923, Jeanne Lanvin introduced Le Chypre, one of her earliest perfumes and an important statement of her entry into the world of fine fragrance. The name she chose, “Le Chypre,” comes from the French word for “Cyprus” (pronounced “luh SHEEP-ruh”). For French speakers, the word instantly calls to mind the fabled island in the Mediterranean, long associated with exoticism, trade in resins, and the ancient cult of Aphrodite. To contemporary listeners of the 1920s, it would have suggested romance, mystery, and refinement—an alluring name that promised a sophisticated scent in keeping with Lanvin’s couture aesthetic.

The perfume was launched at a pivotal moment in history. The year 1923 falls squarely in the Années folles (“crazy years”) in France, or what Americans called the Roaring Twenties. Post-war Europe was brimming with energy: jazz was flourishing, Art Deco was becoming the dominant style, women’s fashions were shifting toward shorter hemlines, looser silhouettes, and a freer lifestyle that symbolized independence. Perfumery, too, was in a transformative era, with great houses experimenting boldly with new fragrance families, synthetic notes, and luxurious presentations. For a woman of the period, wearing a perfume called Le Chypre would have felt sophisticated and worldly, a way of connecting to both tradition and modernity. It suggested a scent that was complex, cosmopolitan, and unmistakably French.

Baccarat Crystal Cheval Bottle c1923

Another important early Lanvin perfume bottle was produced by Baccarat in 1923, and it reveals how closely the house aligned itself with the finest crystal makers of the time. This design, known as the “horseshoe” model, featured a softly curved body whose outline recalled the shape of a horseshoe, a form both protective and elegant. The crystal surface was cut and polished to a flawless clarity, catching light across its rounded planes.

The bottle was fitted with a faceted lapidary stopper, cut like a jewel, its angled surfaces refracting the light and adding a sense of preciousness. Unlike the later flat, enameled disk stoppers, this early piece emphasized the brilliance of crystal craftsmanship itself. The front of the bottle was decorated in intaglio, with the now-famous Lanvin mother-and-daughter logo—Madame Jeanne Lanvin and her daughter at a ball—applied in black enamel. The sharp contrast of the dark stencil against the luminous transparency of the crystal gave the bottle both modernity and visual gravitas.

The base was marked with the Baccarat acid stamp, affirming its authenticity and luxury pedigree. Standing at 14 cm in height, the flacon was modestly scaled yet imposing enough to carry a sense of distinction, suitable for Lanvin’s early perfume presentations.

As one of Lanvin’s earliest Baccarat bottles, this 1923 design holds particular historical significance: it predates the more geometric square and rectangular Baccarat models of the mid-1920s and represents a transitional style, balancing Art Nouveau softness with the emerging sharpness of Art Deco. Through this bottle, Lanvin signaled her dedication to not only scent but also visual elegance, commissioning artisans of the highest caliber to embody her brand’s refined aesthetic.

Lajea (1923)

Launched in 1923, Lajéa by Lanvin is one of those perfumes whose very name seems to hold a subtle enigma. Pronounced as "lah-ZHAY-ah", the word carries a dual resonance. On one hand, it refers to Lajea, a region in Brazil, conjuring images of exotic landscapes, tropical light, and a sense of faraway escape. On the other, it can be read as an abbreviation of La Jeanne—a kind of playful, almost signature-like reference to Jeanne Lanvin herself. This duality makes the name both worldly and personal, both outward-looking and inwardly reflective, much like Lanvin’s work as a designer who combined her Parisian couture identity with inspirations gathered from her travels.

The images that Lajéa evokes are rich with atmosphere. One can imagine shimmering heat, lush greenery, and the languid beauty of distant lands, paired with the intimacy of something handcrafted and signed by its creator. For the fashionable women of the early 1920s, the name would have suggested both sophistication and modern curiosity. This was, after all, an era of fascination with the “exotic”—a time when Brazil, the Middle East, and Asia were romanticized in art, fashion, and interiors. But it was also the age of Les Années Folles (“the Crazy Years”), when women embraced newfound freedoms, short haircuts, dropped waists, and a dazzling mix of avant-garde and traditional beauty. Lajéa would have spoken to this balance: an exotic escape framed within the refinement of Parisian chic.

La Dogaresse (1923)

Launched in 1923, La Dogaresse by Lanvin captured the fascination with travel, history, and exotic grandeur that defined the early 1920s. The name, pronounced as "lah doh-gah-RESS", comes from the French title given to the wife of the Doge, the ruler of Venice during the height of the Venetian Republic. The word itself conjures the elegance of Venetian palaces, shimmering canals, and masked balls. For Jeanne Lanvin, who often drew inspiration from her travels, “La Dogaresse” embodied a spirit of opulence and refinement that resonated both in her couture and her fragrances. The name was more than a passing fancy—Lanvin also christened several of her gowns with Venetian references, making the perfume part of a larger creative vision.

The cultural echoes of the name would have been familiar to a fashionable audience of the time. In 1921, the opera La Dogaresse by Vincent Davico had introduced the title into the broader artistic imagination. To wear a perfume called La Dogaresse was to participate in this world of romanticized Venice—ornate palazzos reflected in rippling waters, sumptuous silks and heavy velvets, and the gilded aura of Renaissance grandeur translated into modern elegance. For women of the 1920s, the perfume’s name suggested aristocratic poise and cultivated sophistication, a way of embodying history while remaining firmly within the spirit of modernity.

Rumeur (1934)

Rumeur by Lanvin was launched in 1934, a period of elegance and experimentation in both fashion and perfumery. The name Rumeur, French for “rumor” and pronounced "roo-MEUR", evokes intrigue, secrecy, and allure. Jeanne Lanvin likely chose this title to capture a sense of whispered fascination—perfume as a private statement, a subtle yet irresistible presence. The word conjures images of hidden glances, fleeting whispers in candlelit salons, and the electric allure of mystery, promising sophistication and an understated sensuality to the woman who wore it.

The mid-1930s was a time marked by refinement and glamour in Europe, even as the world faced political uncertainty and economic recovery after the Great Depression. Fashion favored soft, flowing lines that emphasized elegance and femininity, with fur coats, tailored suits, and evening gowns dominating the wardrobes of society women. Perfume was an essential accessory for these ensembles, and designers like Lanvin were creating fragrances that complemented both daytime refinement and evening allure. Women of the period, particularly those dressing in furs or attending social evenings, would have been drawn to a fragrance called Rumeur for its suggestion of discreet charm, sophistication, and subtle seduction. In scent, the word Rumeur implies something elusive yet captivating—a fragrance that intrigues without revealing all of its secrets, like a whispered story in a dimly lit room.

Petales Froisses (1926)

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.