Lilac
Scheeheratze
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Scheeheratze
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From Legend to Legendary Perfume
Through the marriage of Edmund Langeley, Duke of York, Isabella of Castile became England's first Duchess of York: Mary Beatrice (1658 - 1718).
And this is her story:
"Two princesses from Spain (Isabella and her sister) rode on their white horses, refugees without a plan and hope, silently side by side, along a poplar avenue in France. They were fleeing from the murderers of their father, the King of Castile. Their lovely well-formed faces beneath their lace hoods are tearless and frozen as they rode through the misty morning. Suddenly, loud hoofbeats are heard on the road ahead, and shortly after, the fog parts and two riders stand before them, like princes from a fairy tale. Their black steeds rear up and prance, stamping with their impatient hooves. It is Edmund Langeley, Duke of York, and his brother John, who have come to France to find the two homeless princesses and bring them to England."
When Prince Matchabelli, the exiled prince of his country, read this ancient story, he felt the loneliness and gentle sweetness of the duchess and created a delicate fragrance in her memory. A scent of lilac and young love: "Duchess of York".
In an advertisement from that time, the fragrance is described as "the unforgettable sweetness of purple English lilac and slipper flower, bottled for the woman of noble upbringing and very good taste".
Another advertisement speaks of "Persian lilac from the coast of the Black Sea. A scent that touches the male heart, like a beautiful face with a tragic past".
Now, here in the present, I see the fragrance not quite so romantically. It is not a scent to wear, but rather something for fools and jesters who collect old exotics and delight in extravagant bottles.
It belongs to the family of typical old floral scents, a bit heavy, a bit rancid (which may also be due to its age), the lilac bush has aged, and it conveys to me not a young, delicate, innocent love, but rather an old, slightly overcooked oven love after 100 years of marriage.
And by the way: none of the male hearts that have driven me to madness in my life would be touched by this scent on me, that is a fact.
But that might well be due to my not noble upbringing and my taste that is anything but noble.
And this is her story:
"Two princesses from Spain (Isabella and her sister) rode on their white horses, refugees without a plan and hope, silently side by side, along a poplar avenue in France. They were fleeing from the murderers of their father, the King of Castile. Their lovely well-formed faces beneath their lace hoods are tearless and frozen as they rode through the misty morning. Suddenly, loud hoofbeats are heard on the road ahead, and shortly after, the fog parts and two riders stand before them, like princes from a fairy tale. Their black steeds rear up and prance, stamping with their impatient hooves. It is Edmund Langeley, Duke of York, and his brother John, who have come to France to find the two homeless princesses and bring them to England."
When Prince Matchabelli, the exiled prince of his country, read this ancient story, he felt the loneliness and gentle sweetness of the duchess and created a delicate fragrance in her memory. A scent of lilac and young love: "Duchess of York".
In an advertisement from that time, the fragrance is described as "the unforgettable sweetness of purple English lilac and slipper flower, bottled for the woman of noble upbringing and very good taste".
Another advertisement speaks of "Persian lilac from the coast of the Black Sea. A scent that touches the male heart, like a beautiful face with a tragic past".
Now, here in the present, I see the fragrance not quite so romantically. It is not a scent to wear, but rather something for fools and jesters who collect old exotics and delight in extravagant bottles.
It belongs to the family of typical old floral scents, a bit heavy, a bit rancid (which may also be due to its age), the lilac bush has aged, and it conveys to me not a young, delicate, innocent love, but rather an old, slightly overcooked oven love after 100 years of marriage.
And by the way: none of the male hearts that have driven me to madness in my life would be touched by this scent on me, that is a fact.
But that might well be due to my not noble upbringing and my taste that is anything but noble.
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