Vent Vert (original)
Pierre Balmain (1947)

Vent Vert by Pierre Balmain (1947) as it was originally presented by perfumer Germain Cellier of Robert Piguet Bandit (1944) fame, is a tenacious exercise in photo-realistic greens, set upon a backdrop of white floral chypre. Cellier's work is mostly known for prominent concepts being placed at the fore in this manner, while a complex web lies underneath them for foundation. Similarly in Bandit's leather-dominant chypre accord, the galbanum-focused chypre accord of Vent Vert (roughly meaning "green wind") is indeed chewy and verdant. At the time of this fragrance's release, women were still the surrogate go-getters of Western society, as World War II had just ended and the men who fought the war were settling back into life, or picking up the pieces if we're talking much of the ruined cities in the former European theater of the war. As heads of household in the absence of traditional patriarchs, women began developing a taste for more assertive and some may say "butch" perfumes, leading to things like Ma Griffe by Carven (1946), and Miss Dior by Christian Dior (1947), and this trend would continue into the 50's. Leather, tobacco, sharp green notes, all once the purview of men, were now on the menu for ladies too.

The opening of Vent Vert is a slap to the face of galbanum and dry citruses like lime and bergamot. Asafoetida is mentioned as part of the mix, a gummy resin from the Ferula plant native to areas of the Middle East and Southeast Asia, although I don't recognize that note as I have never smelled it in isolation, myself. What I do recognize is a slightly-indolic hyacinth, a note that would later become very popular in green chypres for the women's market into the 60's and 70's, alongside neroli, orris, and the typical period heart of jasmine and rose with muguet. The whole thing flirts with a gardenia accord as well, but eventually returns to the green side with a big plonk of oakmoss, shored up by dry sandalwood, vetiver, styrax, sage, and a touch of nitromusk. The oakmoss accord is one of the things that cannot be adequately reproduced these days as it was part of a pre-made base Cellier was fond of using, and also used prominently in Bandit, one of the reasons for Vent Vert's eventual reconstruction in 1991 by Calice Becker. All told. this is very green, sharp, a bit cold, bright, with a marigold vibe and singular in tone despite its complexity, foreshadowing the evolution of chypres 30 years hence. Performance is adequate, with projection for a few hours before becoming green powder and moss on skin.

The love affair with vintage enthusiasts and Vent Vert is high, with even small specimens of the original composition hitting "asset class" prices in the aftermarket, especially since the pre-made base formulas are essentially lost so this fragrance cannot be re-created again in the exact way if folks wanted to. When the Calice Becker reconstruction arrived in 1991, it was met with some blow-back from hardened lovers of the vintage, although it didn't matter much anyway as the scent would be reconstructed yet again in 1999 by Nathalie Feisthauer, making the "middle vintage" sought-after as well for collectors. Still, if you get to smell this original 1947 version, you'll get the origin of the species (alongside Ma Griffe) for the green chypres to come in the 70's. Although technically, most of them are also dead and gone now too after 50 years time, so this is less fragrance history anymore as it is fragrance archeology; how utterly depressing. On the other hand, this is so far removed from any mainstream point of reference as to effectively feel niche to the uneducated nose with a taste for sophisticated scent, meaning someone like Tom Ford or Roja Dove could attempt cloning Vent Vert in its original format (poorly), and sell it for about as much new as surviving specimens fetch in the aftermarket. One of the original green goddesses is this, and I can completely understand why. Thumbs up

20-odd pyramid notes buttress the jolly green galbanum with depth and complexity.

Anything that tries to *fight* the green—Hulk smash.

You go, big guy.

Extraordinary! The most perfect green scent l've ever experienced. The galbanum is present front and center but completely avoids any stridency that often accompanies it. The blending is superb and it's hard for me to separate notes, listed here it makes sense, so many, so well agenced for a wheightless, fresh and yet substantial scent.
Truly a delight!

Vintage edt

A spring evening, fresh-mown grass by a garden. It is a cool evening, because it has just rained. Vent Vert. I love, love, love this (I have the original vintage - square bottle and box as pictured in BN). Alas, it does not seem to last on me, which I blame on my perfume-eating skin, not VV. I also adore Chanel 19, which is similar to VV, but more floral and oak mossy. It is a masterpiece of perfumery. Thumbs way up!

It may not have been the first green fragrance but there can't be many greener than Vent Vert. Green is front and centre with a galbanum overdose of 8%.

But there's more to it than just green: citrus and herbal notes, and then earthy tones come through with rooty, mushroom and barnyard accents.
The heart is a bouquet of rose-like muguet and several other flowers, and considering it's wrapped in dry notes like galbanum and woods, the whole profile is actually quite bouyant.
Not as floaty as a late Jean-Claude Ellena, but it has - as the name suggests - a certain breezy quality (breezy for 1947 that is).
The effect is like a dry scirocco wind blowing pink and yellow clouds through a green landscape.

Given its technical limits, Vent Vert has good poise and a solid structure, and even late on - when it approaches the dried flowers stage - it remains vibrant.
The drydown avoids becoming too desiccated, with moss and a varnish-like overlay from those excellent old musks they used to have.
And the base doesn't get too strong either, the pink floral and green (and citrus!) themes remain to the fore until late in the day.

Vent Vert is a bit in the style of Emeraude (1921) but Germaine Cellier cut this, her own green gem, in her own special way; and it's still one of the best.

I have a small vintage bottle which I acquired sealed in box. I love the smell, much more smooth and herbal than the modern version, but I react horribly and cannot wear it. My skin looks bruised wherever this perfume touches me. Most likely it is the galbanum. It smells lovely in the bottle though.