Quadrille
Balenciaga (1955)

As I write this, I am experiencing yet another cloudy, grey day here in New England. Weeks of the same, with the occasional burst of sun reminding me of its critical nourishment, and, like torture, the clouds swallow the rays back up. It's enough to make anyone feel listless and uninspired. I sit looking at the books I've yet to read, finding it myself to muster the concentration, looking with resentment at my phone, feeling the ache in my back from far too many hours sitting in front of work monitors.

I sprayed some Quadrille; to some, it's considered merely Balenciaga's version of a fruity chypre, "me too!" "We did it too." Today, though, as I wear it, I realize there's more depth and meaning for me. It's one of the earlier uses of cardamom in a modern fragrance, adding a layer of intrigue to the skin, beyond the usual peach lactones, plummy liquor, and clove-flower bouquet. I am reminded of my old Uncle Roy's liquor cabinet that I'd sneak into, of course not to drink, silly, I was single-digit aged, "you may look, but don't sip!". I would just marvel at the amber and burgundy colored liquid in the cut-crystal carafes. I would sneak them open to just sniff, though. Quadrille is reminding me of the aromas.

The dry, spiced framework holds throughout the development, perhaps stern and dowdy to the wrong noses. To the right noses, a cause for elation and sweet memories. The warm-liquor amber seeps through the dry surface, dusty mahogany cabinetry, faint jasmine whispers, moss-laden apparitions from times that we can't decide were simpler or more complicated. It makes me want to watch film noir (I am glad I have a Criterion Channel subscription) and escape for a few hours.

I chose this 90s version (bar-code on the box), before it was discontinued, as I've heard that Quadrille tends not to age too well, and I wanted to capture the closest approximation to its spirit. It's a terrific bygone gem that is giving me some light when the clouds just won't part.

This is a review of the vintage "Perfumance" (probably an early form of eau de parfum). Smells like liquor and wood. My dad had an old liquor cabinet, and when you opened the doors to it the scent "whoosh" that hit your nose was exactly this. Hard to believe this was a woman's fragrance from the 1950s, but I guess Senor Balenciaga was quite an outlier in his time. Men could easily wear this as a cologne. Considering how sickly sweet today's women's fragrances are I doubt most of today's females would care to wear this. Quadrille is an awesome name, the bottle is gorgeous and the very plasticy cap is laughably cheap.

Vintage, eau de cologne, decanted into an atomizer... The tiniest blip of lemon at first application. Or, perhaps, it is just wishful thinking, from past memories. The other fruits are well-disguised within the middle notes. Plum, what's left of it, stands out more than the ghost, of peach. Clove and cardamom with the vague fruits are delicately sweet. Quadrille is as beautiful as I remember. I quickly burned through a bottle in the late 80's. It wasn't easy to procure and alas, I never replaced it, until recently.

This is a perfect combo of spice and jasmine, in the heart. The aroma borders on milky, with a shot of seltzer. Jasmine is pure "floral" - no dirt, no indole, no green.

It doesn't take long for the base to creep up. An old musky smell appears. Delightful sweet-soil, sweet bark oakmoss density. The amber has a honeyed accord. Every note present is married well. An orchestra, a dance. Quadrille is a beautiful classic. That it was discontinued, is a travesty.

I suppose only those who appreciate the classic "styles" would enjoy it. No modernity, here.

Sillage is good. Longevity, because my bottle is old, about five hours.

Quadrille on me is a warm spicy Chypres that is very similar to Mitsouko. I am comparing the vintage Extrait in both fragrances. I get a middle note of faint Jasmine after about an hour, otherwise it is really similar. Mitsouko is slightly stronger in the first 10 minutes but after a couple hours, they are very similar on my skin. I love them both. I will stick with wearing Mitsouko since it is so easy to find in Perfume formulas. Quadrille I will seal and store because it is so hard to find it in good shape after 50 to 70 years.

The vintage parfum:

The top notes consist of a delicious melange of rich, ripe and fruity plum/pear/peach notes, which have some citrus freshness infused such as to display great balance. The more I get down the drydown phase, the more I appreciate a lovely jasmine that at times sees cinnamon and cardamom impression added such as to give it a spicy and at times darker edge.

The base switches gear into a lovely bright amber, that is characterised by a light, elegant powdery background, upon which a white musk is added towards the end. This all is supremely well blended out of ingredients of the highest quality.

The performance is very respectable with moderate sillage, decent projection and eight hours of longevity: on my skin at the end of the base phase it gradually peters out, with the slightly bright soapy powderiness fading out as the swan song of this venerable creation.

A grand but not pompous, perfectly balanced fragrance of great expression; ideal for spirng and warmer, sunny autumn days or evenings. Noblesse with elegant restraint. A classic. 4/5

*This is a review of the original formula vintage Quadrille EdT.

Quadrille (vintage) opens with a nose tingling blast of deep, boozy plum wine with significant musk and mossy green oakmoss support. Moving to the early heart the boozy plum recedes to a supporting role, leaving the animalic musk and mossy green oakmoss as co-stars with hints of dulled peach fruit and cardamom spice. As the composition moves further through its mid-section, the musk fades as the oakmoss switches gear, now featuring its powdery facet while maintaining some of its prior mossy green nature. During the late dry-down the composition stays linear with the gentle powdery oakmoss remaining almost through the finish, as hints of earlier obscured jasmine show up towards the end of the composition's development. Projection is excellent, as is longevity at well over 12 hours on skin.

Balenciaga has a fine history of releasing outstanding compositions, and vintage Quadrille shows off what the house can do at its best. The opening boozy plum wine assault is extremely intense and I loved every minute of it. Adding to the opening barrage is the musky oakmoss that melds perfectly with the boozy plum, amplifying its impact and depth, while ratcheting up the brilliance factor exponentially. The composition then impressively shifts gears from its boozy open to a more green powdery oakmoss led accord with the animalic musk playing co-star. I am not a huge powder fan, but the powder level never gets out of hand, and the mossy green facet of the oakmoss somehow holds things together throughout. The last surprise well after the composition was little more than a skin scent was when a fine, slightly sweet jasmine emerged right at the end of the composition's life cycle, and it is one of the best jasmine notes I have ever sniffed. How the jasmine was hidden for most of the development is a mystery, but smelling it at the end made for a very fine finish indeed. Quadrille (vintage) is the kind of composition that makes one really long for the "good old days" where IFRA regulations and focus group testing weren't the rage. Yes, it smells like it is from another age, but by saying that I mean it with the highest respect and compliment. They just don't make 'em like they used to. The bottom line is Quadrille (vintage) checks off all the boxes as to what makes a perfume classic and great, earning a "near masterpiece" rating of 4.5 stars out of 5 and a strong recommendation to vintage perfume lovers of either gender.