Violet Essence (1920)

Violet Essence by Elizabeth Arden was first introduced in 1920 and revived in 1940 in novel presentations, a history that suits a fragrance poised between two very different moments in women’s fashion and beauty culture. Violet Essence means the concentrated aromatic soul or distilled idea of the violet. Rather than promising a literal handful of freshly picked flowers, the title suggests something more refined: violet made intimate, enduring, and luxurious, as though its elusive perfume had been captured in a precious drop.

The violet of perfumery is generally the sweet violet, Viola odorata, a modest, low-growing flower with heart-shaped leaves and small purple, blue, or white blooms. Native to Europe and western Asia, it has long been cultivated in France—particularly around Grasse and Tourrettes-sur-Loup—as well as Italy, including the region historically associated with Parma violets; it was also grown in England, where its springtime scent became linked with gardens, bouquets, and quiet feminine refinement. A living violet smells soft, cool, faintly sweet, and delicately powdery, but also slightly green and damp, with an elusive quality that seems to disappear almost as soon as one leans close to smell it.

That elusiveness is important: violet blossoms yield too little aromatic material to provide the full, recognizable “violet” smell economically in fine fragrance. Early perfumers could produce small quantities of flower concretes and absolutes, but the classic violet note was—and remains—principally an artful reconstruction using ionones, aroma materials first made available to perfumery in the late nineteenth century. Ionones lend the soft, cosmetic-powder, woody-floral character people recognize as violet, while heliotropin, orris, rose, and other floral materials can make the accord warmer and more velvety. Violet leaf, by contrast, can be extracted as an absolute from the fresh leaves; it smells green, earthy, watery, and almost cucumber-like, furnishing the living foliage behind the more abstract, powdery flower.

Launched in 1920, Violet Essence belonged to the opening of the Jazz Age and the early Art Deco period: a time of postwar release, modernity, new independence for women, and a growing appetite for cosmetics as an expression of individual style. Skirts rose, waistlines loosened, hair was bobbed, and cosmetics moved from private dressing tables into fashionable daily life; perfume, too, became less a single innocent floral odor than a carefully composed accessory. Violet had a familiar place in this world—romantic, ladylike, and reminiscent of Victorian posies—yet its use in a sophisticated, aldehydic composition allowed Arden to make that familiarity feel sleekly modern rather than old-fashioned.

To women of the 1920s, a perfume named Violet Essence could have suggested refinement without excessive showiness: a private luxury carried close to the skin, appropriate for a woman who valued polish, independence, and a certain cultivated reserve. The word violet evoked spring gardens, pressed flowers, sentimental nosegays, and feminine delicacy, while essence elevated the idea beyond a simple floral water into something concentrated and personal. By its 1940 revival, that same name would have carried a comforting continuity with the elegant prewar past, even as women entered a more practical and uncertain wartime world.

Olfactorily, Violet Essence was far more elaborate than its gentle name might imply. Classified as an aldehydic woody floral oriental with a dominant violet note, it began with a bright, slightly spicy haze of citrus, orange blossom, almond, and aldehydes, then cooled into a silken violet-and-orris heart enriched by rose, tuberose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, and leafy green accents. Beneath that floral veil lay a plush, lingering foundation of lignaloe, patchouli, tonka bean, vanilla, benzoin, amber, musk, ambergris, and a discreet trace of civet: a composition in which violet was not merely a shy spring flower, but the luminous powdery surface of a warm, subtly animalic oriental perfume.

Within its 1920 setting, the fragrance followed an important trend rather than standing entirely apart from it. Aldehydes, opulent flower bouquets, orris, ionones, balsams, musks, and ambergris were hallmarks of the decade’s more sophisticated perfumery, particularly after the tremendous influence of Chanel No. 5 in 1921; yet Violet Essence distinguished itself by placing the familiar violet accord at the center of such a richly textured framework. It transformed a flower often treated as demure and sentimental into something more polished, woody, sensual, and distinctly grown-up.

Like Arden’s Cupid’s Breath Essence, Violet Essence was presented as a highly concentrated, non-alcoholic perfume oil. Such “essence” formats drew upon a successful early twentieth-century idea popularized by Rieger’s Flower Drops and Dralle’s Illusion perfumes: intensely concentrated oils promoted with the promise that a single drop could remain perceptible for days, without the repeated application often required by lighter alcohol-based perfumes. Their miniature cut-glass vials, sheltered in turned maple-wood cases, made perfume feel like a small, portable treasure.

Arden adapted this intimate luxury for her own clientele, housing Violet Essence and Cupid’s Breath Essence in tiny crystal vials within turned maple-wood cases. The presentation emphasized scarcity, concentration, and ritual: not a cloud of fragrance sprayed into the air, but a jewel-like drop applied deliberately with a stopper-dabber to pulse points or glove. In that form, Violet Essence became both a scent and an object of feminine ceremony—an elegant, enduring violet preserved in glass and warm polished wood.

Fragrance Composition: 

So what does it smell like? Violet Essence is a concentrated, non-alcoholic perfume oil. Violet Essence is classified as a classified as an aldehydic woody floral oriental with a dominant violet note. It would open in a bright, slightly spicy orange-flower-and-almond haze, unfold into a cool, powdery violet and orris bouquet enriched with rose, tuberose, jasmine, and ylang-ylang, then settle into a plush, woody-sweet veil of lignaloe, patchouli, tonka, vanilla, benzoin, amber, musk, ambergris, and discreet civet.

• Top notes: aldehyde C-12 (Laurinic), bergamot, lemon, neroli, sweet orange, orange blossom, almond, lignaloe, pimento, cassie, anethol, jonquil
• Middle notes: coriander, verbena, English lavender, rose, tuberose, jasmine, ylang ylang, violet, orris, ionone, almond, terpineol, violet leaves
• Base notes: heliotropin, vanilla, musk, musk ambrette, tonka bean, coumarin, benzoin, benzoic acid, ambergris, amber, civet, patchouli

Scent Profile:

Violet Essence, as a concentrated, non-alcoholic perfume oil, would have unfolded slowly and clung closely to the warmth of the skin rather than flashing off in the airy manner of an eau de toilette. Its character is that of an aldehydic woody floral oriental: a cool, powdery violet accord given radiance by citrus and white flowers, then deepened with spice, creamy woods, balsams, animalic warmth, and the soft sweetness of vanilla and tonka.

The opening would begin with aldehyde C-12 lauric, a powerful synthetic material with a waxy, creamy, faintly citrus-peel and clean-linen character. It would make the natural bergamot, lemon, neroli, and sweet orange seem brighter and more polished: bergamot contributing its dry, sparkling, subtly peppery peel; lemon lending a sharp flash of zest; sweet orange supplying round, sunlit juiciness; and neroli—distilled from bitter-orange blossoms—bringing a cool green-floral bitterness that keeps the citrus from becoming merely sweet. Orange blossom, usually obtained as an absolute from the same bitter-orange flower, would be richer and more honeyed than neroli, with a creamy, indolic petal warmth. The almond effect, probably built partly from bitter-almond-like materials rather than literal almond oil, would soften this brightness into a marzipan-like, delicately heliotropic haze.

The first impression would be made more unusual by lignaloe, a linalool-rich, rosy wood material whose soft, sweet, slightly peppery timbery odor would quietly link the citrus opening to the woody base. Pimento, or allspice, would bring a warm clove-and-cinnamon flicker, while cassie—the flower of Acacia farnesiana, not cassia bark—would add a dense, golden floral tone of honey, hay, powder, and warm leather. Anethol, a naturally occurring component of anise and fennel but often isolated or made synthetically for consistency, would give a delicate licorice-like sweetness and a luminous, slightly herbal lift. Jonquil, generally represented by a precious solvent-extracted absolute because the fragile flower does not yield an essential oil by ordinary distillation, would lend a narcotic green-gold floral note: honeyed, pollen-like, earthy, and faintly animalic.

As the perfume settled, aromatic coriander would introduce a dry, lemony-spiced warmth, while verbena would supply a brisk, green citrus-herbal freshness. English lavender would have a softer, more floral and less aggressively camphoraceous character than many hotter-climate lavenders, giving the heart a clean, gently aromatic elegance. These herbs would frame the floral body rather than compete with it: rose offering velvety petals and a wine-like freshness; tuberose contributing creamy white petals, sweetness, and a discreetly indolic sensuality; jasmine supplying its radiant, fruity, animalic floral bloom; and ylang-ylang adding a languid, banana-creamy, lightly spicy exoticism. Together, they would prevent the violet from becoming too fragile or overly cosmetic, making it feel full-bodied and alive.

At its center lies the violet accord itself. A true violet flower is notoriously difficult to capture in perfumery: its petals yield too little fragrant material for practical large-scale extraction, and its fleeting scent is most convincingly recreated through perfumery materials. Orris, obtained from the carefully dried and aged rhizomes of iris, supplies the cool, silvery, rooty, cosmetic-powder texture beneath the violet. Ionone, an indispensable synthetic violet material, gives the accord its recognizable soft floral sweetness, with facets of cedarwood, raspberry-like fruitiness, and powdery petals; it amplifies the natural floral materials while providing the persistence that an actual violet blossom cannot. 

Violet leaf absolute, extracted from the leaves rather than the flower, provides the realistic counterpoint: damp green foliage, crushed stems, earth, and a faint cucumber-like coolness. Terpineol, a lilac-like floral material found naturally in some essential oils but often produced or isolated for perfumery, would brighten the rose-and-violet heart with a clean, airy, softly woody freshness. A second almond nuance would make the violet feel tender and confectionary, anticipating the heliotrope-and-vanilla warmth to come.

The drydown would transform the powdery flower into a deep, sensuous skin perfume. Heliotropin—also called piperonal—is a largely synthetic perfumery material with an unmistakable scent of heliotrope, vanilla, almond, cherry-like sweetness, and soft powder; it would fuse the almond, violet, orris, and vanilla into one seamless, plush accord. Natural vanilla would bring dark, balsamic, faintly rum-like richness, while tonka bean would add hay, tobacco, almond, and warm skin-like sweetness. Its key fragrant constituent, coumarin, can be isolated from tonka and other plants or made synthetically; here it gives the base its airy sweet-hay character and reinforces the powdery suggestion already established by violet and heliotropin.

Benzoin would contribute a resinous, caramelized vanilla warmth, while benzoic acid, naturally associated with benzoin and also available as a purified material, would add a faint balsamic, slightly medicinal fixation and help preserve the perfume’s sweetness. Patchouli would ground the composition with damp earth, dark wood, camphor, and a wine-like richness, preventing the floral-powdery heart from becoming too innocent. The abstract amber accord—likely shaped from balsamic, resinous, woody, and sweet materials—would give a golden, glowing depth rather than a literal natural amber odor.

Finally, ambergris would lend a diffusive, salty-warm, skin-like radiance: less an obvious note than a mysterious lift that makes the entire composition seem to breathe. The perfume’s musk would soften its edges and leave a velvety, intimate trail, while musk ambrette, a sweet, fruity, powdery nitro musk used historically, would have intensified that cosmetic warmth and extraordinary persistence; it is no longer used in modern perfumery because of safety concerns. A minute touch of civet would add a dark, fur-like, warm animalic undertone—not necessarily noticeable as an individual smell, but capable of making the white flowers, violet, amber, and musk feel more human, sensual, and alive.

Bottles:

In 1940, Elizabeth Arden transformed Violet Essence into a miniature object of fantasy. The concentrated perfume oil was held in a fragile blown-glass vial scarcely two inches tall, fitted with a long glass dauber stopper for applying its precious contents drop by drop; despite its tiny scale, it held 7/32 ounce—about 6.5 milliliters—of parfum. Rather than relying on a conventional label alone, Arden dressed these little bottles as keepsakes, decorating them by hand with diminutive sea shells, dried flowers, colored velvet pieces, or molded composition ornaments made to resemble a small bouquet of violet blossoms complete with leaves.

The most charming versions suggest a florist’s miniature rather than a standard perfume bottle. Fabric florets or violet bouquets appear to have been arranged directly on the clear glass, turning the transparent vial into a tiny spring posy; other examples were adorned with “sea-shell violets,” a whimsical novelty treatment noted in a 1940 newspaper advertisement. Such shellwork, popular for small vanity objects during the wartime years, gave the perfume a handmade, sentimental character—appropriate to the name Violet Essence, with its associations of garden flowers, remembrance, and quiet feminine delicacy.

One presentation placed the vial in a cardboard box covered in polychrome paper printed with violets and the perfume’s name. Inside, the pink satin lining created the effect of a jewel case, protecting the little clear glass bottle while intensifying the romance of its floral decoration. The bottle is sometimes described as mold-blown in a Murano-like style: a useful description of its delicate, artisanal-looking character, though not necessarily evidence that it was made on the Italian island of Murano itself. Its original label, when still present, is especially important to collectors, since these small bottles were easily separated from their packaging or lost after the perfume had been used.

Later examples, dating approximately from 1940 and into the early postwar years, were presented in an oval acetate-and-cardboard box designed to resemble a small picture frame. The colorless acetate allowed the decorated vial to be viewed while still enclosed, while gold paper, fuchsia Easter-grass lining, and the inscribed name gave the package a more theatrical, gift-like finish. Within sat the rare blown-glass vial, only about 5.5 centimeters high, ornamented with fabric violets and sometimes closed with a cork stopper fashioned as a bouquet of flowers.

These novel containers made Violet Essence more than a fragrance: they made it a tiny decorative possession meant to be displayed, cherished, and perhaps saved long after the last drop had been applied. Their extreme fragility, handmade embellishment, and perishable materials—satin, velvet, dried flowers, cork, paper, and acetate—mean that intact examples are now particularly elusive, especially when the bottle, stopper, label, and original presentation box have remained together.

 

Photo by Perfume Bottles Auction.

Perfumair:

Elizabeth Arden’s Violet Essence was also offered in the elegant little purse flacon known as the “Perfumair,” a clear glass bottle measuring approximately 2¾ inches high and holding 1¼ drams of concentrated parfum—well over a dram, as Arden’s 1955 advertising proudly emphasized. Designed for carrying in a handbag, the vial was crowned with a gold-tone cap set at its top with a prong-mounted colored rhinestone, described in the Mademoiselle advertisement as an amethyst-colored “brilliant”; its jewel-like closure transformed the practical perfume container into a small vanity ornament, while the standardized bottle was also used for other Elizabeth Arden fragrances.

Fate of the Fragrance:

Violet Essence was eventually discontinued, although its exact final production date is unknown; its appearance in a 1955 Mademoiselle advertisement confirms that it remained available at least into the mid-1950s. Today it is a genuinely rare Arden perfume, and while the tiny blown-glass vials are often the elements most likely to survive, their delicate shell, velvet, fabric-flower, or composition decorations were easily detached, crushed, or lost over time. Because Violet Essence was a highly concentrated, non-alcoholic perfume oil, an unopened or well-preserved example may retain a surprisingly wearable scent, but this can never be assumed: heat, light, air exposure, evaporation, and decades of temperature fluctuation may alter the citrus, floral, balsamic, and animalic materials beyond recognition.