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.
The launch year, 1924, fell within what is now referred to as the Roaring Twenties or the Jazz Age, a period of modernity, liberation, and artistic innovation. Women were embracing a new sense of independence—shorter hemlines, cropped hair, bolder makeup—and perfumery responded in kind with bolder, more stylized creations. Yet within this whirlwind of change, there remained a romantic nostalgia for softness, for refinement, and for timeless floral fragrances. Violettes de la Reine would have appealed to women seeking both the reassurance of tradition and the sophistication of the new. It was sentimental, but not naïve—floral, but not cloying.
In this context, the perfume likely presented itself as a modernized violet—retaining the grace and charm of its predecessors while offering greater projection, complexity, and longevity through the use of modern materials. Violet leaf absolute, which imparts a green, cucumber-like sharpness, may have been used to contrast with the sweeter notes of the floral accord. The base might have included heliotropin for a powdery-soft finish, along with musk or woods for depth. The result would have been both comforting and stylish—something a modern woman could wear without sacrificing elegance or personality.
Though nearly every perfume house had a violet fragrance in its portfolio during this period, Violettes de la Reine stood out for its storytelling. The name evoked royalty, legacy, and emotional richness. It wasn’t just “violet”—it was the violet chosen by a queen. In doing so, Matchabelli invited his customers to step into a regal fantasy—just as perfume, at its best, always does.
Fragrance Composition:
So what does it smell like? Violettes de la Reine by Prince Matchabelli is classified as a floral fragrance for women.
- Top notes: Paraguayan petitgrain, Calabrian bergamot, Guinea orange, Syrian cassie, linalyl acetate, amyl laurinate
- Middle notes: Florentine orris concrete, Tuscan violet leaves absolute, ionone, methylheptine carbonate, Manila ylang ylang oil, heliotropin, Grasse jasmine, Grasse rose, Zanzibar clove
- Base notes: Atlas cedar, Mysore sandalwood, iso safrol, Tibetan musk, vanillin, Siam benzoin, Abyssinian civet, ambergris
Scent Profile:
Violettes de la Reine unfolds like a whispered conversation between nature and artifice—each note carefully placed to evoke the romantic image of violets gathered in a queen’s private garden, softly perfuming the folds of her silk gowns. The fragrance opens with a sparkling freshness that is both crisp and quietly refined. Paraguayan petitgrain—extracted from the leaves and green twigs of the bitter orange tree—brings a bright, leafy bitterness, more delicate than its Mediterranean cousins. It lends a clean, green brightness that gently segues into the citrus warmth of Calabrian bergamot. Grown in southern Italy where sea breezes meet citrus groves, Calabrian bergamot is prized for its complexity—here, its sparkling acidity adds elegance and light, keeping the top lively but not sharp.
Guinea orange brings a rounder, juicier citrus tone, slightly more full-bodied and rich than lemon, while Syrian cassie—a deeply aromatic extract of acacia flowers—adds an unusual, powdery green warmth that hints at leather and hay, lending structure and a touch of old-world formality. This is balanced with linalyl acetate, a key aroma molecule found in lavender and bergamot. It softens the citrus and imparts a sweet, lightly fruity floral edge. Amyl laurate, a soft floral ester, adds a sheer, waxy texture that makes the entire top feel smooth and polished—more like silk than linen.
As the heart of the fragrance blooms, it becomes unmistakably floral, deepening with powdery sophistication. At the center is Florentine orris concrete, one of the most prized ingredients in perfumery. Sourced from the aged roots of iris plants cultivated in Tuscany, this material is waxy, cool, and powdery—evoking violet, warm earth, and faint suede. Tuscan violet leaf absolute follows, green and slightly metallic, offering a whisper of crushed leaves and sun-warmed stems. These are perfectly paired with ionone and methylheptine carbonate—two cornerstone aroma chemicals used to replicate and enhance the elusive scent of violet. Ionone, discovered in the late 19th century, is soft, woody, and floral—almost airy. Methylheptine carbonate adds lift and an aldehydic brightness, like violet petals scattered in the wind.
The heart is further warmed by Manila ylang ylang oil, which gives a creamy, banana-like exotic sweetness, harmonizing with heliotropin (now known as piperonal), which adds a dreamy, powdery almond note. These are softened and romanticized by lush Grasse jasmine and Grasse rose, each contributing an unmistakable French refinement. Grown in the perfumery capital of the world, these floral absolutes are prized for their depth and nuance. Zanzibar clove, warm and spiced, pricks the florals with a touch of intrigue—its subtle fire echoing the perfume’s regal complexity.
The drydown is where Violettes de la Reine becomes something altogether more enigmatic. It rests on a quietly smoky and musky base, beginning with Atlas cedar from Morocco—dry, pencil-shaving woodiness that grounds the perfume. Mysore sandalwood, once the gold standard of creamy woods, offers its deep, sweet, almost milky smoothness, made even more sensual by iso safrol, a soft, balsamic-spicy aroma chemical with hints of root beer and anise. Together, these materials lay a velvety base.
Then comes the animalics—Tibetan musk, Abyssinian civet, and ambergris—materials that once gave vintage perfumes their extraordinary staying power and sensual allure. Musk lends a softly furry texture; civet offers a warm, musky growl beneath the violets; and ambergris, aged and refined by the sea, adds a salty, skin-like radiance. Vanillin brings its comforting warmth, while Siam benzoin, a sweet resin from Southeast Asia, lends a golden, almost caramel richness.
The result is a fragrance that is both ephemeral and unforgettable—delicate yet regal, a violet still fresh with dew yet wrapped in layers of velvet and legacy. Violettes de la Reine doesn’t just smell like violets—it smells like violets remembered, violets dreamed, violets once worn by a queen.
Fate of the Fragrance:
Violettes de la Reine by Prince Matchabelli was launched in 1924, a time when perfume was entering a golden age of creative expression and luxury. Introduced during the vibrant post-World War I period known as the Années folles or “Crazy Years” in France, the fragrance aligned with a broader cultural movement toward romance, glamour, and the reclaiming of beauty after years of austerity. Violet-based perfumes had long been a staple of European perfumery, but Violettes de la Reine offered something both classic and elevated—infused with the aristocratic air befitting its name, “Violets of the Queen.”
Though the exact discontinuation date remains unknown, the fragrance was still being actively sold in 1929, as noted in contemporary advertisements and trade listings. It may have lingered on store shelves for some time after that, as was common with perfumes that retained a loyal following or strong brand identity. However, as tastes began to shift in the 1930s toward bolder, more modern compositions and the rise of new synthetic materials, this soft floral might have quietly faded from the spotlight.
Today, bottles of Violettes de la Reine are extremely rare, a testament to the ephemeral nature of early 20th-century perfumery. Yet the memory of the scent—and the elegance it embodied—lives on through collectors and connoisseurs who seek to preserve the delicate beauty of the past.
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