Whether you will love Dior: The Perfumes depends on more than your enthusiasm for Christian Dior fragrances. First, you’ll need to enjoy Chandler Burr, and I’m not talking about “Burr the saucy perfume critic.” I mean the new Burr, the one who has embraced art criticism as it pertains to fragrance. Next, you’ll need to prepare yourself for some rah-rah Dior pap. Dior, not the book’s publisher, commissioned this book and paid Burr. It shows. But among the hosannas and PR celebrity stills are some interesting stories and gorgeous old photographs.1
Dior: The Perfumes starts with a chapter on Christian Dior’s life as an art dealer, before he became a couturier. The following chapters either feature an essay by Burr on a particular perfume, or on a collection of fragrances, such as Les Escales de Dior. Each chapter is full of photos. (For instance, the essay on Eau Sauvage takes up about a page and a half, while photos fill another nine pages.) Also, inserted toward the beginning of the book is an 18-page spread on Christian Dior and his gardens. At the end of the book is a chronology of Christian Dior fragrances with their release dates.
In each of the essays, Burr compares a fragrance or collection of fragrances to a style or school of art, or he uses art terms to discuss the fragrance. Diorissimo, for instance, is Photo-Realism. Diorama is Abstract Expressionism (Burr’s love for Diorama comes out bright and full and is wonderful to read). Poison is Conceptual Realism.2
I loved holding the big book in my lap and flipping through the glossy pages, and I picked up some interesting facts. (Did you know that although Guy Robert created Dioressence for bath products and perfume in the United States, it was Max Gavarry who tweaked it before it was released as a perfume in France ten years later?) I found the perfume chronology enlightening, too. In Parfums Christian Dior’s first five years, it released two fragrances, Miss Dior and Diorama. In the last five years, it released 44.
However, if you want more than art criticism or unabashed praise of Dior perfumes, move along. No Dior trash talk is allowed here. To wit, in an older work, The Perfect Scent, Burr discusses the role of animalics in perfumery and especially calls out Caron Yatagan and Miss Dior: “—Miss Dior smells like the armpit of a woman who has not bathed in a week…and they are both categorically unwearable except by the French.”3 Compare that to this excerpt from Dior: The Perfumes, “It is no surprise that Dior’s first commission for a work of olfactory art was a masterpiece in the Neoromanticist style,”4 and he directly compares Miss Dior to “the scent of flowers” more than once. You get the drift.
You also won’t find any discussion of the implications of Parfums Christian Dior changing ownership (it’s owned by LVMH), nor does Burr talk about the reformulations of the classic Dior perfumes. To return to Miss Dior, a perfume newbie reading Dior: The Perfumes would assume that Miss Dior smells exactly the same as it did in 1947. (Let’s not even get into Miss Dior’s roller coaster of names and outright personality changes over the past few years — the book doesn’t touch that.) The story the book tells is that Miss Dior was created as the “fragrance of love,” and that’s what it was, and that’s what it is.
Here and there, Burr’s text felt incomplete or raised questions for me. For instance, keeping to Miss Dior, only Paul Vacher is named as its author, but the fragrance is generally credited to both Vacher and Jean Carles. Assuming that Burr learned that Carles was only tangentially — or not at all — involved with Miss Dior, it would have been nice to have that cleared up. Also, in a few places Burr cites Germaine Cellier as a brilliant perfumer, but she’s notably left out of the list of “great perfumers of the era,” while Edmond Roudnitska, who had only two perfumes to his name at that point, was included. (Jean Carles was left off the list, too, by the way.) Another drawback: discontinued Dior fragrances — even significant perfumes such as Dior-Dior — are sometimes mentioned, but not discussed. (I guess if you can’t buy them now, they don’t count as art, right?)
These are objective criticisms. Where the book fails for me, personally, is that I want the stories more than the theory. I want stories about the perfumes, how they were made, the women who wore them, and how they dovetailed with their eras. These fragrances are icons, suffused with romance and glamour and personality. I’m not interested in being told in an essay about Diorissimo that nature can’t be art since nature isn’t a creation — Burr’s views on art (and, incidentally, his atheism) don’t interest me. What I want to know is how Roudnitska’s aesthetics influenced his interpretation of lily of the valley.
I’d love for Chandler Burr to write a book illuminating his ideas about art and fragrance. I bet the book would inspire many an intelligent conversation. But I’m still waiting on my dream book about Christian Dior's perfumes. This isn’t it.
Dior: The Perfumes, Text by Chandler Burr (Rizzoli) New York, 2014. 285 pages, $115. I’ve seen it online for as little as $80. My copy was from the library.
1. Give me one photo of Mitzah Bricard for twenty of Natalie Portman anyday.
2. Burr used a similar methodology for his 2012 exhibit The Art of Scent 1889-2012, at The Museum of Arts and Design. Blake Gopnik, among others, objected.
3. The Perfect Scent, Chandler Burr, page 249.
4. Dior: The Perfumes, page 30.
I can wear Yatagan. I am not French.
I stopped reading Burr after I read his description of yet another musky scent and realized he was just going to keep using that one stupid épater-le-bourgeoisie rimjob reference over and over again. I’m done with him.
I admit that I really haven’t kept up with Burr’s work lately. I love perfume but do not love art school jargon. He may simply be too smart for me.
(Also, I totally rock Miss Dior. I’m not French, either…)
And it sounds like total art *school* jargon rather than educated analysis.. .
The only thing I know about art school comes from the brilliant Art School Confidential comic!
And I just clicked on your link and see that you are absolutely qualified to weigh in on this!
What perfume did he say that of??
Don’t know him from a hole in the wall. As much as I enjoy perfume, and as much as I have seen his name in connection with the world of fragrance, I have no desire to delve into his writing/opinions. This sounds like he made a lot of money for little effort if the book is primarily eye candy. The fact that DIOR commissioned the book seems to confirm the fact that I am probably not missing much.
But I’m just a small time perfumista and I wear what I like, no matter what the “critics” opine 😉
I’m with you in that I love perfume and love learning about many aspects of perfume’s creation, but I’m chiefly a consumer and don’t need an art criticism 101 with my fragrance. I guess to me it all that feels more in my “head” and less in my senses–and I want to be experiencing, not cogitating over, perfume. In reading about perfume, I love stories, passion, and opinion.
Guys, this one’s easy: I just have absolutely zero interest in fashion. Or fashion icons or designers or those who wear their clothes or on and on. None. I understand you do, I understand many people do, but I’ll never be the guy to write that book, or read it, or have anything to do with it. Moreover I’m truly uninterested in looking at paintings or listening to music, smelling works of scent or looking at architecture merely on a sensory level; I only want to experience art of any kind with an intellect-based approach. That’s what makes sense to me, and of course I realize that lots of other people will find it totally boring.
Mr. Burr, thank you so much for your thoughtful response here and to many of the comments below. I really appreciate the time you’ve taken to add to the discussion.
I’m not sure how many of this post’s commenters will return to this post (it posted a week ago tomorrow), but I encourage everyone who does or who stumbles upon it to continue through the comments for more of Mr. Burr’s insight on the book.
Thanks again!
My pleasure.
My editor Catherine Bonifassi of the publishing house Cassi Editions, which had agreed to edit and publish the book for Dior, approached me about the project through my agents at WME. I turned it down. I assumed it was marketing copy. Catherine got back in touch (she didn’t approach Luca, to answer a conjecture posted here) and she and I then began a detailed conversation about the project. Both she and Dior wanted what interests me–but does not interest a lot of you, as you’ve said, and (obviously) fair enough– the contextualization of scent as a major art medium, art history, art criticism. Catherine and I laid out ground rules; we agreed on the 18 essays, we agreed I wouldn’t have to write on any work I didn’t feel was in fact important in its aesthetics or design—I nixed Higher immediately for example. Catherine said Dior would be hands off. And in fact they were, to a degree that actually surprised me. I was prepping for a few battles. They didn’t happen. Dior stuck to its word and Catherine ensured it. I’ll nuance this below, but to start, those are the basics.
I want the book you want, Angela. I want that rich bloke in charge of LVMH to knock on YOUR door with a commission that includes a year in Paris, all expenses paid and full access to Dior archives and current and former perfumers, and as much research assistance as you need. And the freedom, within sensible boundaries, to say what you like. (I can understand that Dior might not appreciate seeing Miss Dior Cherie l’Eau described as fresh puddle water after the rain. But that should not mean that the commercial and other pressures on the perfume industry today cannot be discussed.) Then we might see a book worth reading. Well, it’s a nice dream.
A book that is worth reading and which actually does exist, happily, is Mary Blume’s book about Balenciaga, The Master of us All. Blume was friends with Balenciaga’s favourite vendeuse, Florette, and this inspired her to write the book from the perspective of the staff at the fashion house, ie the people who made, modelled, sold and actually wore the clothes. Little mention of perfume unfortunately, but still a marvellous book.
Yes yes yes! I want that dream, too, and since you so generously willed it to me, I’ll have you along to help research–it’s only fair! (Until then, I’ll have to restrict myself to library books and blog posts.)
I will look up Mary Blume’s book on Balenciaga right away. I have a wonderful book on Balenciaga from the Balenciaga museum in Spain, full of photos of his clothing (including some wonderful photos where the item’s construction is shown). It’s the sort of book I take out for relief when it’s raining outside and I’m in a bad mood. I’d love to read more of his story.
He shunned publicity so not much is really known about Balenciaga. Hence the genius of Mary Blume’s approach. The other great thing about her book is that she is such a stylish writer. I find a lot of fashion books rely on the visual, not surprisingly, but the text can be very dull.
Sounds like a must-read for sure!
Thanks annemarie for the Mary Blume book info. I see she also has a book of her over 30 years of observation of Paris as a columnist for the International Herlad Tribune (drawings by Ronald Searle).
…and yet another one to heap on the “to read” list.
Yes, I’ve ordered that one from my local library. And she has one on the ‘making’ of the French Riviera, and I like the sound of that one too. I feel as if I should have heard of Mary Blume already, but I only learned about her writing when I found the Balenciaga book at one of my local shops just after Christmas.
I discovered that it’s available at my library, and since I was planning to stop by tomorrow anyway to drop off the Dior book…
Angela- I was in Dallas several years ago and saw a Balenciaga exhibit. One story that really stuck with me, he made ALL the clothes for a socialite, I mean everything, right down to her tennis clothes and underwear! When he announced his retirement she was so upset she took to her bed for 3 days. I loved that image and the power of fashion.
Wow! That’s fascinating on a lot of different levels. Her identity was so intertwined with Balenciaga’s. Good story!
I’m curious about your remark about Burr’s atheism. Does that somehow figure into this work??
He wrote (a couple of times, actually) that nature can’t be art, since nature isn’t created. From that, I inferred that Burr doesn’t believe in a Creator with a capital “c.” But, no, he doesn’t get spiritual in the book!
Do think he means more organic creation rather than artificial? Not so eloquent here, but I guess I mean the idea of genetic creation as opposed to influence creation. That said, I don’t agree that nature can’t be art of a type. Seems oddly close-minded.
I’m not sure, really, but maybe. If you determine that anything created is artificial, whether it appears spontaneously from the earth or not, then I’m guessing that someone with deeply held religious views might make a case that a creator’s hand shows in everything.
Pigoletto, here’s the response. Happily I didn’t have to write it; Picasso did the job for me. In a 1923 Spanish-language conversation with the American art critic Marius de Zayas, Pablo Picasso, in discussing modern art and Cubism, nailed the obligatorily artificial nature of art: “We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies. [He] has searched, and re-searched… for the way to put over lies…. [People] speak of naturalism in opposition to modern painting. I would like to know if anyone has ever seen a natural work of art. Nature and art, being two different things, cannot be the same thing. Through art we express our conception of what nature is not.”
I happened to be watching the Cindy Sherman documentary “Nobody Here But Me” (1994) recently. Sherman says, “I love my camera… Through a photograph you can make people believe anything, so it’s not really the camera’s doing, it’s really the person behind it and figuring out ways to tell lies… through the camera…”
Breathesgelatin (love that name): I’m definitely an atheist. The traditional religions are poison, Bronze Age myths and Medieval fairy tales, and we need to understand what good and bad are, our moral obligations to ourselves, to others, to the earth a hell of a lot better than that. I’m not sure how that came out in the book, but very interesting that, apparently, it did.
I purchased the book after seeing a marketing copy at my workplace. I haven’t had a chance to complete reading the text, but I’m familiar with the portion Angela references.
I was left with the same impression as Angela. However, I don’t think your atheism would be apparent to a person who is unfamiliar with your work and background.
I wish he would be more transparent about his work. Is he still Curator of Olfactory Art at the MAD in NYC? Seems like not but that whole relationship was so fuzzy from the beginning….? It is also hard to be a critic when you take paid commissions such as this Dior book. I know he wants to be a powerful advocate for perfume (as an art as defined by his weirdly outdated theories of art history), but “artificial” scent would be better served if he was more forthcoming about this things, IMO…
It does seem like an odd set up. I imagine Dior executives saying they want a big, beautiful book glorifying their perfumes, and they want the text written by a recognized perfume expert. Then, I imagine Burr seeing this as an opportunity to apply his theories. But the thing is, with Dior picking up the tab, all of the perfumes must be portrayed as beauteous wonders. It seems like something had to give on one side or the other: Either Dior had to accept that their fragrances–amazing as many of them are–would get an even-handed presentation, which means that it wouldn’t be all happy superlatives; or in some cases Burr had to rein in his approach. I think I know who won that battle.
Can you imagine Luca writing such a thing? Especially with the arbitrary pairing up of perfumes and art movements…
I’d love to take a browse through it, but doubt if any library I have access to will own a copy…
Mine came through the good ole’ county library, so you never know. (Maybe Luca Turin was approached to write it and turned it down! That would be interesting.)
I’ll try my local illinet, too.
I think I’ve read that Luca is done with perfume and moving on to something else – he alway states that he’s a scientist – is it biological physicist?
That wouldn’t surprise me at all.
Luca maintains his independence; Burr, at least for the purpose of the Dior project, has not. He’s sold himself to a powerful commercial interest. The gain as I guess Burr sees it is that he gets his ideas out to a broader readership, while Luca remains a bit to the side. I sure know where I’d rather be.
But it would be hard writing about the luxury industry because no company is going to give you access to insider info and private (ie company based) archives unless they get a positive write-up out of it. This is why Tilar Mazzeo’s book about Chanel No 5 is largely a failure, I think, even though it has interesting info in it. It was not commissioned by Chanel but it ends up being one long advertisement for No 5 all the same.
Probably lots of people who depend on Dior or LVMH in the industry wouldn’t want to criticize them, either, so even getting the unauthorized version might not be easy. All the same, I bet there are some really good stories behind some of these perfumes. For instance, the Paul Vacher / Jean Carles thing interests me. What was the real story there?
I don’t where you are at, but WorldCat says about 267 libraries have the book. Fairbanks has it, so surely you can get it through ILL.
Thanks, Marsha!
yes, thanks for the encouragement!
Annemarie, I’m sure Luca would never have agreed to write this book, and that’s a testament to his stubborn, absolute, and admirable independence. The book was commissioned and paid for by Dior. I made concessions in these essays that I wouldn’t in curating a museum exhibition, namely, Dior asked that I minimally reference the stylistic and design aspects of other works that were being done cotemporaneously in the medium. This is not the way I would normally write as it can be very helpful to talk about other artists and other work of an era. But it is quite common. Gallerists, collectors, auction houses and so on commission books on specific artists they represent or own or sell—Cindy Sherman, Jeff Koons, Anish Kapoor—asking the writer to focus on that artist’s work. Dior asked me to write about its collection focusing on its collection. It was a terrific opportunity to spend time, among other things, talking to Francois Demachy.
And this is another reason: <> Exactly.
Sorry, I don’t know how to edit comments. I guess when you put things in they disappear. Annemarie: “The gain as I guess Burr sees it is that he gets his ideas out to a broader readership.” Exactly.
Agritty, I haven’t been a critic—this was stated officially by the Times on my departure, I’ve written and said it numerous times—since 2010. I told Nancy Lee, Editor and VP of licensing for the New York Times Syndicate, that (I believe it was September 2010, actually, although I’d have to check emails) I was creating the Department of Olfactory Art at the Museum of Arts and Design and would be approaching the scent industry for funding of my exhibitions, which of course instantly ended by official role at Times critic.
Nancy and I were sad to see it end, but I was thrilled to found the Department, which the Museum confirmed to me—and publicly to the Times, Newsweek, to my funders among others—that it was a permanent department. We produced an excellent first exhibition, The Art of Scent. The museum, however, was a disaster area—dysfunctional is a polite word for it—and the board fired the director, Holly Hotchner, then brought in an interim director who shut down the department along with a number of other programs and fired various staff members. That’s life. Now the Department of Scent Art—I changed the name; easier to say—has been reestablished as a 501c3 arts non-profit based in NY. It will organize, with the museums that commission them, the scent art exhibitions.
Hmm? It seems that Burr was commissioned to write a favorable book and contradicted some of his previously unfavorable opinions. It seems to me that if you hold yourself out as a critic, you should have some consistency of positions. (At least don’t praise what you previously described as detestable).
I know Burr likes to compare perfume to his understanding of architectural and art history, but does he ever compare the fragrances to Dior’s fashion aesthetics. This would seem to be at least as relevent.
I thought about the idea of comparing Dior’s fashion to perfume, too, or at least looking at the fragrance’s spot in the perfume world and comparing that to how that year’s collection fits in.
I understand, too, changing your perception of a perfume–I know I’ve changed and deepened my understanding of many fragrances as I’ve come to know perfume better–but this does seem kind of extreme.
Dilana, at the Times, when I was being offered marketing BS by PR people twenty times a day, I found it interesting–and it was a huge relief–that the fashion houses and the multi-billion dollar corporations that license their names to create perfumes under those names don’t even make an effort to pretend there’s a relationship between fashion and perfume. And there is, in fact, no correlation between a given brand’s fashion and the perfumes its licensee creates. To nuance that slightly, if a brand is young, urban, pop-culturey, the perfumes will probably sort of reflect that, although that’s only a general rule contradicted often. Dior never pressured me, not once, to make this fake link, and I’m very grateful to them for that.
Truth is I am sad every day when spraying my new HP and noticing with a wince how much this masterpiece has changed, and not for the better.
Yes, Dior was great once upon a time. That about sums up my feelings, a book would be excessive to merely express the same. Pity. 🙁
I’m sorry! And sympathetic. (By HP, you mean Hypnotic Poison, right?) It’s kind of like lost love. Can leave a person a little brokenhearted.
In the 90’s we called it selling out. Now, I would rather smell like a french womens armpit lol
The thing is, I’ve smelled Miss Dior from over the decades, and although some versions have a keen animalic kick, I wouldn’t call them “armpit.” Femme is more armpit, I think. (And yes, I love it, too.)
Count me in! I love and wear both.
It does not sound promising.
The annoying thing to me about Burr is that he got so delightfully enthusiastic about fairly boring perfumes in his no-name series. It was so frustrating to read a fantastic description and then get something boring in the mail – just a complete disconnect. Admittedly, I have not checked back since it moved to Luckyscent – there may be a much better selection there.
I like the idea of the Burr series a lot, but I didn’t participate in it, so I never got to see the write-ups. It’s an intriguing idea, though. Too bad it was a bust!
He is such a joke. Is there any new info about Poison?
You mean, in the book? I can’t remember, now, I’m sorry to say! I got the book from my public library, so you might be able to do the same and have a peek.