Russian Easter Lily by Prince Matchabelli c1938

Launched in 1938, Russian Easter Lily by Prince Matchabelli was a poetic and culturally rich addition to the house’s repertoire of regal florals. The perfume was also occasionally sold under the shortened name Easter Lily, but the full title—Russian Easter Lily—evokes something deeper: an intersection of spiritual ritual, heritage, and opulence. The name “Russian Easter Lily” was likely chosen as both a nod to Prince Matchabelli’s own aristocratic Russian background and a romantic evocation of Orthodox Easter traditions, where lilies—symbols of purity, resurrection, and divine beauty—were prominently featured in church celebrations and home altars. By including “Russian” in the name, the fragrance carries with it a sense of exoticism and mysticism, conjuring images of candlelit cathedral interiors, icon-covered walls, and fragrant spring blossoms adorning traditional Easter festivities.

The scent’s title alone evokes a rich sensory narrative. “Easter Lily” brings forth visions of crisp white blooms with golden stamens, their heavy, creamy scent filling a room with solemnity and sweetness. The addition of “Russian” layers the impression with emotional depth—suggesting a cool, ceremonial stillness and perhaps even melancholy, the way lilies were often associated not just with rebirth but also with remembrance. The perfume would have resonated with 1930s women who longed for refinement, elegance, and a touch of romantic escapism during a time when the world was perched on the edge of war.

The year 1938 fell within the interwar period, a time marked by both uncertainty and refinement in fashion and culture. Women’s clothing was elegant and structured, echoing a return to formality after the more experimental 1920s. Perfumes, too, mirrored this shift—floral, powdery, and aldehydic blends dominated the shelves, but there was also a growing appetite for perfumes with a story, a soul, a sense of place and time. Russian Easter Lily would have appealed to this sensibility. It wasn’t just a floral—it was a narrative in a bottle, sophisticated yet sentimental.

Violettes de la Reine de Matchabelli c1924

Violettes de la Reine, launched in 1924 by Prince Matchabelli, translates from French as "Violets of the Queen" (pronounced vee-oh-LET duh lah RAIN). The name conjures up a vision of aristocratic refinement and romantic femininity—delicate nosegays arranged in gilded vases, silk gowns rustling through palace halls, and courtly elegance at its most refined. The choice of name aligns perfectly with Matchabelli’s recurring use of royal titles in his perfumes—Princess, Duchess, Queen—each suggesting grace, poise, and a certain cultivated glamour. Naming a fragrance Violettes de la Reine not only paid homage to violet’s longstanding association with nobility, but also played into the fantasy and pageantry that perfume marketing so often evokes.

Violet had been a beloved fragrance note throughout the 19th century, traditionally associated with modesty, innocence, and sweetness. But by the early 20th century, perfumers sought to update this classic note using modern techniques and materials. While early violet perfumes relied on tinctures of violet flowers or leaves—methods that yielded faint and fleeting results—true violet essence proved elusive. In fact, violet flower cannot be distilled for its oil. Instead, its delicate, powdery fragrance is best recreated using ionones and methyl ionones, synthetic aroma chemicals first discovered in the late 19th century. These molecules capture the heart of violet’s scent with astonishing clarity—soft, powdery, ethereal, and slightly woody—and gave perfumers more control over structure and tenacity. By the 1920s, they were essential tools for crafting the illusion of violet in perfume.

Grace Moore by Prince Matchabelli c1934

Grace Moore by Prince Matchabelli was launched in 1934, a tribute not to royalty, but to a different kind of queen—the radiant, headstrong American soprano and film star Grace Moore. Known as much for her golden voice as for her theatrical spirit and tempestuous wildcat temperament, Moore was one of the era's most captivating cultural figures. Her fame skyrocketed with the release of One Night of Love in 1934, a film that showcased her operatic talents and established her as a silver-screen darling. Moved by the emotional resonance of her voice, Prince Matchabelli—himself a former Georgian nobleman—made an uncharacteristic decision: to break from his tradition of composing perfumes only for royal lineage. “Always before I created perfumes only for those of royal birth,” he told the press. “But Miss Moore—ah—she is the queen of the stage. So I make a perfume to suit her.”

The result was Grace Moore, a fragrance described as “feminine with a touch of a vixen,” and “rich and faintly tart.” It was not a perfume for shrinking violets. Like the woman it honored, it was grand and expressive—a serenade in scent. The bouquet unfolded with a lyrical blend of spicy florals, balanced with an intriguing tartness that hinted at both sweetness and strength. One newspaper described it as a “delicate and unique fragrance” that stirred the senses, just as Moore’s voice stirred emotions in her audiences.