N'Aimez Que Moi
Caron (1917)

For me, this was love at first sniff, and the feeling has stayed for more than a decade. Several reviewers have mentioned its "old lady" connotations. Well, this old lady absolutely loves it! I really don't think that's a good way to describe any scent, because tastes will always vary, no matter what one's age, but when it's applied to a classic like this, it is a backhanded compliment. It signifies that N'Aimez Que Moi is a beautiful, other-worldly fragrance which has stood the test of time. The rose and violet opening notes are soon joined by delicate lilac, yet you can still smell each one distinctly, and when the cedar and vanilla emerge to darken the floral accord they add to the sense of mystery this perfume conveys. The notes of sandalwood and civet anchor the scent, while musk contributes to the overall dreamy feel. I have the EdP and have not tried the extrait, but it's on my list. I hope they never stop making it, although it seems as though Or Et Noir has disappeared, so if you love any Carons, better get backups.

At first the whump of the hefty Caron base (deep, powdery-resinous) masks the floating quality of N'Aimez que Moi. Then there is the ferocity of clove and something like the brambly undergrowth from Malle's Une Rose that also make it appear to be more of a drama queen than it is.
But wait a short while and the rose, liquered, a bit musty but also powdery soft, wafts its magic gathered in clumps of cloudy violets and lilac. A touch of fatty, waxy orris gives it a discreet sheen. I find violets often give perfumes a watercolour, daydream-like quality – perhaps it's because their scent seems so borderless and diffuse – and that is certainly the case here. Later the base re-emerges, but gently, a pillow to lean back on, giving the florals a touch of earth.
If you have a tendency to dismiss this kind of perfume as old-fashioned and fusty, then N'Aimez que Moi will do nothing to change it. For the rest of us, it is a quiet pleasure, rich yet restrained about it.

Review is for the current EDP formulation.

A wonderful powdery Bulgarian Rose, surrounded by iris and violet. This lovely creation from 1917 is typical of what reviewers now call "old lady," with its heavy emphasis on potpourri florals (others have detected cedar, jasmine, lilac). The oakmoss support is also rounded out with notes that have been identified as: civet, sandalwood, amber, musk, vanilla.

This is truly old fashioned and set in its time. It is one of the best rose scents available today.

One of my all-time favourite scents, and one I'd never want to be without. The opening of cedar and rose, quite dark and mysterious, like a half-hidden path through the woods, and then the swelling of yet more rose, this time with iris and violet, and something I can't identify; and finally the deep Caron base with its civet and oakmoss (which presumably is now tree moss, because of IFRA regs). You wear this perfume like a voyage of discovery. First, the cedars and wild roses shade your way through the forest, and then you discover the violets and irises blooming amongst the undergrowth. All the while, the civet and musk base draw you deeper and deeper into the woods, until you are almost lost. But the beautiful rose and violet notes act like Ariadne's thread, so that you never actually lose your way as you press forward all the way to the forest edge.
On me, both extrait and EdP last several hours.
Yes, it's old-fashioned in a good way, reminding me of the beautiful art nouveau jewelry and lace-bedecked clothes of the Edwardian era. It brings a touch of that lost world of quality and manners into our hectic 21st century lives. I have both the extrait and the EdP, and whenever I wear them I'm taken back in time to that more gracious era. If you appreciate vintage and classic scents, this is definitely one to try.

The heart of this vintage is the rose. But it does not sit alone. Violet, lilac & iris are listed but as support players they exist as nuances, and are not quite as easily identifiable as the central rose accord. To smell the rose, one has to get really close to the skin. It is a deep dark rose with a slight metallic tinge, certainly not of the dewy-fresh, budding variety. I'm testing the parfum which has depth to spare and unveils each layer at its own languid pace.

While I wouldn't exactly describe this bouquet as 'fusty', the freshly powdered aura represents a style that was popular in that era but may well be viewed as 'out of its time' particularly by a generation raised on a diet of 'instant gratification'. A true fragrance connoisseur however will have much less of a problem appreciating this composition from Ernest Daltroff.

I feel it is quite a shame that this great classic (nearly 100 years old) enduring the challenges of times (with rather completely different tastes in the perfume market today etc.) gets very little mention and obviously very few reviews.
It is very easy to dimiss this as musty and dated. Most of all, it has to do with the fact that today we hardly understand the nature of grand classic extraits de parfum that take their time to settle down and notes melting together on our skin, in order to create a dense, complex and rich olfactive experience.
Violet is certainly an important contributor in here at times while the fragrance shifts, which makes it tricky territory for myself and also adds much to the dated feel. The dark musty rose with a slightly smoky (I can't help but thinking of a component this shares with Tabac Blond) musk don't really help to change the mood of this composition. Actually, this stage in its really long-drawn drydown, where the smokiness is clearly perceptible, is my very favorite. It is the almost nocturnal blend of these exquisite dark rosy facets with a violet candy touch, a distinctive vanilla (not too sweet) and exactly this smoky muskiness that is very alluring.
N'aimez que moi is an old-world beauty from times bygone with class and eventually less innocence than the first two hours make you believe. Moderate sillage (elegant and comfortable) with very good longevity. Again, I only care for the extraits of the great Caron fountain perfumes. One last comparison: N'aimez que moi is far superior and interesting than Amouage Opus III to me.