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.

Comme-Ci Comme-Ca (1924)

Lanvin released Comme-Çi, Comme-Ça in 1924, a perfume whose name alone carries a lighthearted charm. Pronounced as "comb-see, comb-sah", the French phrase literally means “so-so” or “like this, like that.” Far from being dismissive, however, it conveys a playful shrug, a whimsical indifference, or a teasing nonchalance. Jeanne Lanvin’s choice of name was witty and modern, perfectly attuned to the spirit of the 1920s—a perfume for young women who carried themselves with confidence, laughter, and a sense of irony. In its very title, the fragrance suggested an irreverence toward tradition, a delight in spontaneity, and a refusal to take life—or perfume—too seriously.

The phrase itself evokes images of sparkling wit and carefree charm. It suggests a lively Parisian afternoon, a young woman in a cloche hat and pearls laughing at the café terrace, or the effervescent energy of the dance floor. To women of the 1920s, Comme-Çi, Comme-Ça would have represented modern femininity: spirited, self-aware, and lightly rebellious. It was not a perfume meant to envelop with grandeur or mystique but rather one that danced, sparkled, and delighted—an olfactory counterpart to the flapper’s joie de vivre.

Le Sillon (1924)

Lanvin introduced Le Sillon in 1924, a perfume whose name beautifully captures Jeanne Lanvin’s dual identity as couturière and perfumer. Pronounced as "luh see-YOHN", the French word sillon, meaning "furrow," holds a layered meaning. On one hand, it evokes the idea of sillage—the invisible trail of fragrance that lingers in the air after someone has passed, a concept deeply connected to the artistry of perfume. On the other, sillon also refers to a luxurious type of silk, woven with soft self-colored stripes that create a subtle play of light and texture. For Lanvin, who built her fashion house upon exquisite textiles and refined craftsmanship, this double entendre was especially apt. Le Sillon became not just the name of a fragrance but a symbolic weaving together of fabric and scent—two arts she excelled in.

The word itself conjures images of elegance and refinement. It suggests softness and sensuality, like a trail of silk brushing against the skin or the lingering aura of perfume carried in the air. To a woman in the 1920s, Le Sillon would have evoked both the tactile luxury of fine couture and the ephemeral beauty of fragrance—an intimate yet public declaration of style. The name feels polished and modern, embodying Lanvin’s ability to translate fashion into olfactive language.

L'Ame Perdue (1928)

"L’Ame Perdue" by Lanvin was launched in 1928, at the height of the Art Deco era. When exported to the United States, the perfume was temporarily renamed "Lost Soul", since the American market already had a claim on the name "My Sin" through Les Parfums de Gabilla. In truth, L’Ame Perdue was My Sin under another name, created by Lanvin’s house perfumer André Fraysse in collaboration with Paul Vacher. This renaming was pragmatic, but the chosen title carried a striking poetry of its own, perfectly suited to the romantic and slightly decadent character of the fragrance.

The name L’Ame Perdue is French and translates literally to “The Lost Soul.” It is pronounced "lahm pair-DOO". The words immediately conjure a swirl of emotions and imagery: a sense of longing, melancholy, and vulnerability, yet also a dangerous beauty. The phrase suggests someone adrift between passion and despair, perhaps undone by desire. In perfume, such a name invites wearers to imagine themselves as mysterious, elusive, and unforgettable—qualities women in the late 1920s were eager to explore through fashion, beauty, and scent.

The late 1920s was a period of cultural transformation. Known as the Roaring Twenties, it was an age of jazz, speakeasies, modernist art, and a profound shift in women’s roles. Fashion was defined by the flapper silhouette—shorter hemlines, dropped waists, bobbed hair, and a rejection of Edwardian constraint. Women were more visible in public life, embracing independence, work, travel, and the freedom to enjoy pleasures once reserved for men. Perfume mirrored this newfound boldness: aldehydic fragrances such as Chanel No. 5 (1921) had broken boundaries by creating scents that were abstract, modern, and less tethered to nature.

Kara Djenoun (1924)

Lanvin launched Kara Djenoun in 1924, a perfume whose name immediately carries mystery and exoticism. Occasionally misspelled in period references as Kara Dujanum, the true name is rooted in Jeanne Lanvin’s fascination with her travels and the wider world. Pronounced as KAH-rah jeh-NOON, the phrase draws from Arabic. The word djenoun (جنون) refers to spirits, demons, or supernatural beings—the source of the English “genie.” Jeanne Lanvin was almost certainly inspired by the Algerian mountain Garet el Djenoun, which translates to “mountain of spirits” or “mountain of genies.” The added word kara, meaning “black” or “dark,” heightens the sense of danger and allure. Thus, the name Kara Djenoun evokes a place of mystery, haunted beauty, and shadowy enchantment.

The imagery it conjures is dramatic: windswept desert mountains, hidden caves where spirits dwell, and the intoxicating blend of fascination and fear associated with unseen forces. For the modern woman of the 1920s, such a name would have suggested not only exotic landscapes but also the thrill of transgression—something dangerous, alluring, and deeply sensual. To wear Kara Djenoun was to embrace a fragrance that promised an escape from ordinary life into a world of fantasy and forbidden mystery.

Niv-Nal (1924)

Lanvin introduced Niv-Nal in 1924, a perfume whose name alone sparks curiosity. At first glance, Niv-Nal appears unusual, even exotic, as though borrowed from a distant language or an ancient incantation. In reality, it is a clever reversal of the name “Lanvin.” Jeanne Lanvin’s decision to invert her own name suggests both playfulness and sophistication, a creative act that transforms something familiar into something mysterious. The mirrored effect of the name evokes ideas of reflection, symmetry, and hidden depth—qualities perfectly suited to perfume, which is itself an invisible art that reveals new facets over time.

The year 1924 fell within Les Années Folles—“The Crazy Years”—France’s counterpart to the Roaring Twenties. Paris was a vibrant center of modernism and artistic innovation, alive with jazz, cinema, and avant-garde fashion. Women were casting off the restrictions of earlier decades: corsets had vanished, hemlines rose, and short, sleek bobs became the hairstyle of the age. Fashion embraced geometric lines, beading, and metallic fabrics, anticipating the Art Deco style that would soon dominate after the 1925 International Exposition of Decorative Arts in Paris. Perfumery, too, was undergoing transformation. The great aldehydic florals, led by Chanel’s No. 5 (1921), had redefined what a “modern” perfume could be, while oriental blends like Guerlain’s Shalimar (1925) captured the fascination with exoticism and sensual luxury.

Irise (1923)

Irisé by Lanvin was introduced in 1923, a time when the house of Lanvin was expanding its creative identity from couture into perfumery. The choice of the name Irisé is particularly evocative. In French, the word irisé (pronounced ee-ree-zay) means “iridescent,” describing the shifting play of colors seen on a pearl, soap bubble, or dragonfly’s wing. The name alone conjures an image of delicate luminosity, something refined, feminine, and ephemeral. It suggests not just color but also movement and atmosphere—an effect that feels both luxurious and poetic. For women of the early 1920s, a perfume called Irisé would have embodied elegance, refinement, and the promise of beauty enhanced by subtle radiance.

The early 1920s were part of what is known as Les Années Folles (“The Crazy Years”), the French counterpart to the Roaring Twenties. Paris was alive with artistic experimentation, the Jazz Age was in full swing, and women’s fashion was undergoing a dramatic shift. Jeanne Lanvin herself was designing gowns that mirrored these new ideals: slim, fluid silhouettes embellished with embroidery, beading, and iridescent effects that caught the light in movement. Perfume at the time was also evolving, moving away from the heavy, opulent perfumes of the Belle Époque and embracing more modern, stylized compositions. To name a perfume Irisé in this moment was perfectly aligned with the trends—it captured the glamour, modernity, and new freedoms of the decade.