Chevrefeuille by Yves Rocher

Perhaps it is my favourite fragrance or one of them. It was the one my mother wore when she was very young, the scent I grew up with: that fresh, feminine, beautiful and unique, original yet sexy honeysuckle aroma – simply incredible. I now use it discreetly as there are few left and it is mega out of stock, but it gives me an indescribable feeling every time I open the beautiful original bottle, the splash version without a spray nozzle, with its round cap and quality silk-screening. The bottle’s texture is soft, velvety or rubbery, something I have never seen or touched on any perfume, an elegant and lovely design. I also enjoy the simpler spray or splash bottle, with a straightforward and less ‘fussy’ design, which retains the Chevrefeuille DNA well and lasts a little longer, although it has shifted slightly towards something greener than the previous version, yet it is easily mistaken for the original. I’ve read that it had a ‘poor’ bottle, eh? Let’s not confuse simplicity with poverty; there is a vast chasm between them; they are not comparable terms. I own many formats and bottles; they managed to preserve the essence through the reformulations except for the last and penultimate ones: HELP! Despite editing and re-editing this wonder over the years, they managed to keep it practically the same (the first is undoubtedly the best) until a few years ago when they reformulated it again, even changing the packaging twice to finish ruining it. Heaven help me to the world of non-minimalist designers for a moment, I tell you this as a designer who loves minimalism but also respects what was already good as it was.

I smelled Yves Rocher’s Chèvrefeuille and Églantine in Brittany in the summer of 1978, and I also tried Nina Ricci’s L’air du Temps. I bought Chèvrefeuille by post for years, as Yves Rocher was a pioneer in home sales until they opened franchises in Spain. It is a young, tender and delicious floral scent. Although the packaging was simple and not sophisticated, I hold a nostalgic memory of that scent of youth and simplicity. I have not found it again; the modern version of Chèvrefeuille has nothing to do with that cologne from my first outings.