Detchema by Revillon

Detchema is probably the most famous perfume from Revillon Fourrier: a clean, aldehydic floral akin to No. 5 but lighter, super-floral (hyacinth, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose), soapy and exquisitely refined. In Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, Mia Farrow kindly mentions it to a spectator who asks her in the pharmacy, demonstrating its immense weight in the collective imagination. The pyramid is dizzying, yet it is a child of its time: dusty, aldehydic and floral. It fits the film perfectly, with its solid furniture, large floors and period-typical wardrobes. It begins florid, like a bouquet of lilies, jasmine, narcissus and citrus notes of lemon, then quickly shifts to aldehydes as a dusty, mature rose takes control. It is beautifully interpreted: the honey-soaked ylang-ylang blends with bitter roots, smoky green and lily, briefly reviving the leather of the base. Basically, at first it is very aldehydic but over time it becomes soft, floral and delicate. Another fragment of past lives destined to be lost in the fog of time.

I do not care whether it is Detchema, Joya Myrurgia or Blue Grass; any aldehydic floral lotion from the seventies makes me happy. It smells of wonderful oldness on whoever wears it, a mist of ylang-ylang, jasmine and carnations that hypnotises me. Revillon’s Detchema is a talc-floral with carnation spice notes, the classic combo of ylang-ylang and aldehydes, perhaps a little spicier. It is a useless critique that merely confirms my love for these pleasant fragrances on older women. Over time, as their wearers pass on, they will cease to smell like the last of the extinct grouse. At present, I enjoy when a group of pensioners emerges from the chotis with a swarm of powdery, faded scents; they make me feel well, as if they possessed healing powers. By the way, Rosemary wears it in The Devil’s Seed, proving that it was once modern; often, ideas of gender and age in perfumes are merely what we learn through repetition.