Ce Soir Ou Jamais by Annick Goutal c1999

Ce Soir Ou Jamais by Annick Goutal: launched in 1999. The name in French means "Tonight or Never", sounds like it could be a plea from a lover. Inspired by the scent of a beautiful rose Annick Goutal found in a priest's garden, it took her a reported fifteen years and over 160 secret ingredients to capture an almost perfect replica.

From Annick Goutal:

"Infinitely secret murmur, pressing and tender proposal of a lingering and discrete perfume which intrigues and arouses desire...  

According to Annick Goutal, it is the perfume of her life, the most accomplished. Interpretation of a rose in a "priest's garden" which she stumbled upon, so much idealized in the extent that it makes one's head spin.  

15 years of work and determination to succeed in revealing the transparency of this delicate, mysterious, almost wild rose."

So what does it smell like? It is classified as an intense floral fragrance for women.

• Top notes: aldehydes, lemon, bergamot, pear, rose geranium, peach, lily of the valley, and hibiscus
• Middle notes: acacia, orange blossom, lavender, apple blossom, beeswax, jasmine, verbena, rose hips, Turkish rose, tea rose, violet, lilac, mimosa and Bulgarian rose
• Base notes: incense, sandalwood, myrrh, anise, patchouli, leather, musk, oakmoss, ambrette, benzoin and amber

Available in both parfum, eau de parfum, eau de toilette, body cream, shower gel and soap.

I received a sample from a Facebook friend and just sprayed some on the back of my hand. Starting off with a hint of citrus zest and juicy pear, beeswax, rosehip tea, then revealing a heart of fresh cut bouquet of both sweet Turkish and soapy Bulgarian roses and ending in a marriage of spiced wine and a patchouli laden chypre base with a touch of powdery jasmine.

Each time I smell the perfume, it seems a little different and new notes appear. I love this. This is as if Tea Rose by The Perfumer's Workshop and to Jo Malone's Red Roses cologne had a baby, it has a slight vintage feel that I enjoy. Many of the ingredients in the notes listed above I was able to detect through several sampling sessions, as the "secret ingredients" truly are secret and not officially listed anywhere online.

I imagine an elegant woman wearing a slinky black velvet dress arriving at her handsome lover's home on the last night before he leaves on yet another business trip. He opens the door and lets her inside. They immediately embrace and he tastes her violet candy like red lipstick as they passionately kiss. She nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck and smells his musky aftershave spiked with lavender, patchouli and ambergris. He smells her vintage aldehydic chypre perfume that she sprayed on her hair. Her lover presents her with a lush bouquet of long stemmed roses. They stroll into the dining room. She sits down at the table to an empty goblet which is twinkling with the flicker of candlelight.  A small Baccarat crystal vase on the table holds crimson hibiscus blossoms sits atop the freshly laundered linen table cover. A gilt rimmed Limoges porcelain plate holds a succulent baked pear and sliced peaches drizzled with honey and garnished with candied citrus fruit peel. He pours an expensive red wine into her goblet. Her lover presents her with a red envelope, she excitedly opens it, it simply reads "Tonight or Never." She coyly smiles, looks up at him with a mischievous look in her eyes and takes his hand in hers.

Eau de Camille by Annick Goutal c1983

Eau de Camille by Annick Goutal: launched in 1983. The fragrance was created as a tribute to her cherished daughter.

So what does it smell like? It is classified as a green floral fragrance for women. The perfume evokes the leafy green scent of privet hedges, crisp ivy, freshly cut grass and hints of the delicate floral notes of lilac (seringa) and honeysuckle.

• Top notes: honeysuckle
• Middle notes: privet, seringa
• Base notes: ivy, cut grass

Eau de Camille was discontinued in 2013/2014.



A friend on facebook sent me a sample of this fragrance. I sprayed some onto the back of my hand and inhaled the scent. In my mind, the ivy reminds me of the meandering ivy that grew along the walls of my grandmothers Victorian era farmhouse. I would visit her during the summer when I was a child and slept in an upstairs bedroom that had a window just above where the ivy grew in abundance. Privet hedges lined the walkway to the backdoor. After heavy summer thunderstorms, the air was thick with the scent of electrical ozone, deep, dark privet leaves and crisp ivy. Occasionally, during the early days of June, I would also get a whiff of the first lilacs that grew in her small garden that encircled her gazebo in the backyard. Their scent was both vegetal and sweet and smelled wonderful married with the scent of freshly cut grass. Delicate wild Japanese honeysuckle shrubs dotted the property line that abutted a soybean field in the heart of Maryland's rural farm country. I used to love to walk out there, pluck a flower, pinch off the little green calyx, and suck the addictive nectar from the blossoms, wondering if the bumblebees enjoyed the sweet, honeylike taste as much as I did. The days before cellphones and the internet, when we had to entertain ourselves and play outdoors, this was one of the simple pleasures that I fervently remember. It is a shame that there aren't any honeysuckle bushes near my home now.