Jules
Christian Dior (1980)

Well, I have to admit that I managed to buy a very old bottle of Jules.

The two - the new one and the old one are not alike. They both are excellent, but they go in different directions.

The old one is heavy on castoreum and flowers!!(especially carnation, cyclamen and jasmine) and eventually dries down into leather-fir resin combo. From start to finish you can easily detect oakmoss.

The new one is a pretty bold leather right off the bat with an animalic twist (something a'la Leather Oud, but nowhere as animalic as that one). That changes into hefty leather with clear influence of fir resin and cyclamen (there is also jasmine hanging around).. The drydown, especially the base is a "woody leather with fir".

I like both.

Now that I have been wearing Jules for a few months, I will update my review.

To start with, I still agree with 11Mic22hael33 (see below) that the pyramid for the original version of Jules helps to better communicate the experience of wearing the fragrance than the more abstracted one used above. Jules opens with a heady bloom of sensations, at once bright, rich, herbal and animalic. Bergamot and galbanum are the dominant top notes, but a culinary basil and bitter, vegetal artemisia are very present and, just as they do in Caron’s famous Yatagan, they create at times a vegetal, almost-celery-like accord that comes and goes within the dominant impression of conifer resins and a smooth leather accord. A semi-sweet floralcy also announces itself primarily as cyclamen, and what feel like aldehydes wrap the whole in a glossy package, per Aramis, Kouros or similar.

While cyclamen flowers do not deliver a strong fragrance in nature, aromachemicals derived from cyclamen have been compared to rhubarb (stemmy, wet, translucent, tart-sweet...not accents that are particularly present in Jules), but also *linden blossoms*… Well, when I read the reference to linden in a description of the use of cyclamen as a perfumer's material, everything fell into place. My childhood home had a massive linden tree in the front boulevard, and I smelled those sticky, green, honey-scented blossoms for decades of my youth. The odour of linden blossoms dominates the heart of Jules, merging with a profound galbanum note and stirred up headily with animalic notes of civet (tomcat meets boxwood hedge) and what must be castoreum (an unguent, almost boozy, warm-father-in-a-leather-jacket hug.) This is a closely blended composition in which various notes create a condensed if not quite homogenous call-and-response of overlapping accords: the sweetly mentholated aspects of fir resin blend smoothly with the sweatiness of lavender leaves, while earthy cumin works with civetone to suggest a hint of body odour that, when combined with a jasmine/hedione note in the heart, produce a curious moment of dissonance somewhere between a curry-like savour, an bitter freshness resembling Dutch black liquorice, and the blatant sensuality of browning indolic white flowers in glass vase of murky water....I know I'm not exactly selling it (!), but it's a challenging, involving combination.

The base is mossy, very musky, and leathery, producing a very alluring sillage – rich and comforting with a hint of what many will recognize as a ‘shaving foam’ accord wafting out of an open shirt after a workday’s wearing, as experienced in the unabashedly masculine base of Paco Rabanne Pour Homme. All is coloured by a touch of the humid (sometimes 'gloomy' or grim) rusticity character of 1970's aromatic compositions like Quorum, Aramis Devin, Paco, etc. Holding it all together is a classic 'fern'/fougère accord of citrus acidity (mostly as technical support), lavender (floral/herbal/spicy), geranium (green stem-like), tonka beans (hay) and moss (airy, ashen...mossy). The colour of the juice, like sunflower yellow darkening to dim chartreuse, perfectly captures its sappy-dirty essence.

Like other complex aromatic fougères of the 70’s-80’s (Hermès' Equipage, Azzaro Pour Homme, Paco Rabanne Pour Homme, Caron’s Yatagan and Le Troisièmme Homme…), Jules throws together a long list of ingredients crafted in such a way as to create accords that smell the way a vinyl record sounds – smooth, warm and a little luminous, as it segues seamlessly from track to track in a sustained theme that delivers a unified impression even when some of the tracks are more demanding than others. I need to underscore that I have not tried the original, so I'm working from impressions while also considering its context and parallel scents of the period. I sometimes question certain choices in Jules (that celery touch, or the caraway or cumin's animalic qualities) but the authorship of this reconstruction feels assured. Nothing here feels out of place or conspicuously synthetic, and Jules is an excellent, well-paced performer that has gained considerable potency as my bottle has aged.

I feel I should stop a moment to quickly address the obvious revelation that Jules is a bit of a dinosaur… and yet it doesn't feel appropriate for a not-quite-dinosaur-ish man like me. It smells of its era but is too lucid in its presentation of quality, well-defined notes and complex accords to be reduced to a generalized placeholder for 'earthy/soapy old school woody masculine' of the 1970's variety; its unconventional beauty pushes beyond the boundaries of the 'expensive-smelling genre placeholder', which was basically my bottom-line expectation when I went looking for this.

Someone has carefully brought this composition into the 21st century. Its herbal-floral heart is dense, simultaneously lactonic-soapy and earthy-musky but not without some animalic tenderness, with a bewitching mix of syrupy, unguent, mossy and leathery textures that, though recognizably connected to the era when Jules was first produced, has the character, conceptual clarity and refinement of a classic Dior composition, albeit not one of a 'bestseller' (if it were a book by F. Scott Fitzgerald, for instance it would the overly long and flawed and frankly more grown-up Tender is the Night rather than bright star of The Great Gatsby) It took me a long time to come to terms with Jules because I have spent so much time prior with some of its hardy, historical company (Yatagan and especially Paco are old favourites of mine)…But Jules really deserves attention based on its own merits. I don't wear it that often, but it's perfect for days when I want to experience the character, complexity, finesse and power (spray lightly!) of a truly 'characterful' composition.

If you've ever crushed the needles of fir trees, the opening will remind you of the scent that emanates as the oils and juices are released. Coniferous yet very yellow-green (the galbanum is a perfect pairing to accomplish this).

I also detect waxy, earthy flowers (the combination of hedione with cyclamen aldehyde perhaps) as it dries.

I can't speak for the original, but this version is mesmerizing to my nose. I am not sure if anyone would agree, but this would appeal to the naturalist fraghead (like me).

Jules is one of the most amazing fragrances on this planet. The new formulation smells almost identical to the original, only the new version has a stronger Civet note, stronger Carnation, and less Rose. AMAZING JOB with the reformulation! Dior never disappoints. Very high quality and luxurious juice. Don't let the prices on ebay and other sites scare you away from this timeless masterpiece. I just bought a bottle right off the Dior website, dior.com for $90!!! If you are a serious enthusiast, I highly recommend you get a bottle!

2010 model.


Krizia Uomo on top, with Gucci Nobile in the middle, their offspring is the base.

Nice scent, but thin and doesn't last a full workday.

The groomsmen are in black tie, with the family patriarch leading the way in the finest attire. The partiarch himself, sports a sharp black vintage tuxedo with flower on his chest. He says: a man who doesn't spent time with his family can never be a real man. As Godfather Don Corleone, play's the ruthless yet sympathetic head of the corleone family.

The vintage jules (1980) was a masterpiece and this one has DNA of that one. A jewel in a bottle, the sophisticated image of a man incrusted in this emerald bottle that prints the picture of masculinity and maturity, the fragrance is simply awesome and full of body. The kind of fragrances that have survived the test of time and still they represent the strenght of a man that's not afraid to wear his fragrances, he knows he's a winner.

An smokey, green, bitter, clean fragrance. It opens with a sharply herbal and green that's the main character of the fragrance. It's certainly distinctive, thought extremely familiar at the same time. Many focets of the galbanum combine with the spicy floral (hedione) in the heart. The fragrance softness in the dry down by fir and smooth leather. Ideal for a man that masculine but a classy gent. Is kind but not a pushover. Confident but never cocky. Pure class in a bottle.

This is for the latest formula in 2020, opens extremely bright and energetic, citrus and civet with some pine touches from fir and a slight green organic feel, it has that classic French chypre style that could come across as dated to some people, if you appreciate classic perfumery tho you will really enjoy Jules, after an hour a bit of dark leather creeps in and keeps it well balanced and stable on the skin for many hours, the more I try Jules the more I fall for it, there's a lot going on in the note list, but it's a rather simple bright chypre that has been executed with intelligence and artistry, the colour of the juice resembles the actual smell to me.

Just received my new flacon of JULES in the modern/current EDT, directly from DIOR online.

The smell is gorgeous, and has nothing whatsoever to do with the original 1980 scent. (Just sayin').

The current scent opens with brilliant, sparkling aldehydes, a faux-galbanum stemminess, laced with a vivid, nose-clearing aromatic fir, and a geranium-like bracken of damascones.

Then a faint whisper of something civet-like, or at least animalic, makes its presence known. Everything is made cool by an omnipresent refreshing menthol sheen. Faint soupçons of tanning tar peer tastefully through the medicinal haze, laced with-- yes, a curious, unexpected floral note.

And that's it. After these notes, it's all over but the shoutin', as we say in Texas.

It is all exceptionally elegant, extremely refined, exquisitely tasteful. Neither dated, nor bleeding-edge hip-- just very French, streamlined and forest-y. And it resembles the 1980's formula in no way at all (I know because I went through several flacons of the old stuff circa 1988-1992) Leans masculine, but there's no reason in the world a woman couldn't use it, if she loves cooling, medicinal aromatic notes. The whole effect is one of refinement, sly suaveté, nothing "chunky" or "men's after-shave-y" going on. Utterly devoid of sweetness, yet never arid, desert-y or sterile. Obviously a scent formulated by an expert nose.

With time, I may grow to love it. Right now I'm kinda bowled over that it bears the name of an old scent I loved... even has the exact same box design and logo... but no longer smells like. As another reviewer here correctly observes, the 1980's original had a certain warmth and sweetness that this formula lacks. This number is nothing like YSL KOUROS, I must say.

P.S. The fabulous René Gruau illustrations for JULES are a direct allusion, I'd say, to the cabaret posters of Toulouse-Lautrec for the chanteur, Aristide Bruant.

Jules smells to me like an even mixture of Leonard Pour Homme, Gambler by Jovan, and Givenchy gentleman, in roughly a 3/2/1 parts ratio. So much spicy and indolic flower usage that, when paired with all that leather, smells of cinnamon. The basil and laurel together clearly state "made in the 80's". The galbanum and cumin play a round of "fresh cop, dirty cop." There is quite a lot going on, but it is a comparatively quiet scent with more of a come-hither vibe than a mating call. Sure, I wish it had a little more rev to its engine but the smell itself is enjoyable enough to forgive it.

Be prepared, it's a negative review but hey, we need negative reviews for a reason don't we?!

I grabbed a 9ml vintage mini of this to see what Jules is all about.

I love 80's scents but this is something that I'll 'never' wear. The reason being is that Jules is an incredibly heavy oakmoss/musky scent that reminds me strongly of Bijan Men and Fendi Uomo in it's dry down. I dislike both of those scents highly that I will firmly say that I kind of hate with a passion. They are nauseatingly strong with atrociously horrible, offensive and unnecessarily long lasting dry downs.

Opening and heart notes are beautiful until the very strong musk and oakmoss takes over with a little leather underneath that lasts forever on the skin. That's basically all I get after 8 hours or so. After the 8 hours I was really getting sick and tired of smelling this thick and musky concoction emanating from my skin. I felt like I was wearing an 80's perfume for Women. Thank God from past experiences I had initially given this a proper wearing in the safety of my own home away from prying noses.

To me, this dry down leaves me with the impression of an old lady perfume. It's that really musky cloud of oakmoss, flowers and musk that surrounds the wearer where it's that kind of musk that sucks the air right out of your lungs. Jules also has a considerable amount of sillage and projection that never seems to let up. This is a very strong scent for only being a 90° denatured alcohol content.

Handsome box and flacon but the end result in my opinion is an overly dated scent for Men that's is a product of it's time. Jules smells like a 70's creation. I really dislike the dry down on this which is the whole point of wearing a perfume anyways, and as mentioned before, it lasts far too long that survives showers... easily way past 24+ hours. I think this is the reason that original composition flacons are readily available on eBay, because this is honestly not that good of a scent.

By wearing this out in public, no one will ever know that this is a vintage Christian Dior scent. It will come across as a harsh, repelling and huge masculine 80's perfume that will be right at home on a 70 year old man. I'm 38 years old and couldn't pull this even if I wanted to, but I do not in any way shape, or form. My opinion would be to pick up a vintage mini of this, do not blind buy a full flacon of Jules! After that first wearing, you'll be kicking yourself in the ass.

Fine fragrance equivalent of the smell they add to new cars.

**/*

Jules in an exercise in balance, which itself is a rare thing coming from a 70's/80's cusp fragrance. It marries the green galbanum and cyclamen blast of several perfumes both masculine and feminine from the early 70's. It would not be out of place to compare Jules alongside Estée Lauder's Azurée (1969) or Alliage (1972), which themselves formed the basis of the Estée Lauder by-way-of-Aramis masculines Devin (1978) and Aramis 900 (1973) respectively. Likewise, Jules also bears some resemblance to Chanel No. 19 (1971), but with less-prominent rose, and Jacomo Silences (1978) in it's bitter opening, with slightly indolic flowers throughout setting it apart from the Jacomo's starkness. Jules is an interesting character for a masculine staking it's claim amidst outgoing macho-man aromatics and incoming shrill displays of virility that were 80's powerhouses. This scent is confident, strong, but overall more quiet than expected, without avalanches of silliage, being a good compliment to a wardrobe stocked with other aromatic leathers like Bogart Eau de Toilette Pour Homme (1975) and Van Cleef & Arpels Pour Homme (1978). It has the power of something like Chaps Ralph Lauren (1979) or Ted Lapidus Pour Homme (1978) but none of the swagger or loudness. Even a name like "Jules" lends an unassuming air that alludes to it's mystery, and likely the perceived mystery of it's wearer too, who is suggested to let his actions speak louder than his words by his choice of subtle fragrance. Another comparison would be to look at this as a much dialed-down precursor to Chanel Antaeus (1981) which was a year away. Overall, with so many comparisons that are all over the map, it's appropriate to say that Jules just sits squarely in the middle between bitter greens, florals, warm woods, and leather scents that were dotting the 70's landscape for both sexes, but at the verge of the change-over to the gaudy Technicolor jazz-hands that was the following decade. Most interesting indeed.

The 70's wasn't without it's understated masculines, as anyone who owns Balenciaga Ho Hang (1971) or Un Homme Charles Jourdan (1979) will tell you, but it's a far rarer breed, if these obscure book-ending masculines didn't already imply that, which Jules could be counted among it if had come out a little earlier. The scent is Dior's second masculine creation, and the obvious success of the Roudnitska-composed Eau Sauvage (1966) didn't necessitate the need for an immediate sequel, but by 1980, it had been long enough. Dior probably didn't want to go in the same light and fresh direction that Eau Sauvage had taken, since male-oriented chypres were brooding and dark things by the 70's, and aromatic fougères were the rage, so it's likely that Dior sat out through the 70's because the trends in men's fragrance probably didn't suit them. Jules does feel like something that began development in the 70's, but just had the unfortunate luck of being born too late to really hit home with it's target audience, which may also explain it's relative obscurity in comparison to other Dior masculines that followed. Jean Martel was brought in to make Jules, and his previous masculine work, the seminal Paco Rabanne Pour Homme (1973) slightly reflects here in Jules, since this uses green notes, rose, and fougère-like base elements, but doesn't redefine the barbershop like his erstwhile creation. Jules foregoes the soap of Paco Rabanne Pour Homme and takes a dryer chypre-like finish, with Russian Leather forming the backbone. On top of this leather note is galbanum, artemesia, lavender, cumin, bergamot, a middle of jasmine, cedar, sandalwood, rose, and basil, plus complimenting base notes of oakmoss, amber, civet, musk, and black pepper. It's all so ridiculously well-blended that if I didn't have a Dior-created note pyramid to stare at, I wouldn't have guessed half of this stuff. The animalic base is very restrained here, and the bitter greens in the top carry more weight than the rest of the scent, so despite being categorized as a masculine leather, I see this more as a green leather floral chypre like the aforementioned feminine fragrances and even a slight toss back to Miss Dior (Original 1947), just "manned up" with a bit of tweaking. Sorry guys, your "man's man" scent is really just re-purposed ideas from women's perfume of a bygone era, which doesn't bother me at all since I wear those too.

Considering this released in the same year as Jacques Bogart One Man Show and Jacomo de Jacomo (both 1980), it's kind of a miracle something this dapper made it out the gate at all. Leather fans are likely to enjoy Jules, and green fans are also likely to enjoy Jules, but folks sensitive to grassy galbanum won't dig this so much, as it's unforgiving in that area. Jules won't beat you in the head as mentioned, but it's a steady, quiet hum that lasts a good bit of the day, with the leather and other base notes just sneaking up for warmth as it dries down, but that grass never fades completely. Jules is the kind of thing that modern guys who are used to the sweetness of current masculine tropes will likely fail to understand, and probably dislike. Guys only familiar with Dior Fahreheit (1988) or Dior Homme (2005) might be alienated by the smell of Jules, but anyone who's tried Christian Dior Leather Oud (2010) has already smelled stiffer leather than this. Niche perfume fans are likely familiar with the old-school "fine perfumery" ideas on display here since a lot of their favorite niche perfumers still employ them, and anyone that loves a scent which wears it's inspirations on it's sleeve will also find Jules charming. That's really what Jules is all about: being charming, and nothing more. Letting others start the conversation, but making sure it ends memorably is the quirk of Jules. It's unmistakably and maybe irritatingly masculine to the mainstream nose, but those with a broader perspective see what's really going on here. Dior relaunched this in 2016 but mainly for the Eastern Europe market where dry and leathery scents are still marketable, likely because of the generally colder climate, so US folks will pay a bit of a premium where it shows up in the gray market or at perfume discounters who've imported it, but it's not discontinued. Vintage focuses more on the leather and oakmoss, while new versions omit most of the oakmoss and push more for a greener direction, but all forms are good for fans of the style. It is one of those rare leathers that passes in summer because of the immense green top, but it's still no casual fragrance, so don't try it at the office.