ROSE AGAIN

Why the queen of flowers is enjoying a fragrant renaissance.

- Hannah Betts

Back in 2004, I interviewed Jean-Paul Guerlain—then 67, and the culmination of four generations of perfume genius—at Les Mesnuls, the family seat to the south-west of Paris. I discovered the begetter of Vétiver and Samsara sighing over yet another incarnation of his rose concoction, Nahema. The perfume had been released in 1979 in its 500th version, already testament to an obsession (compare Coco Chanel picking her N°5 out of a mere nine). Two decades on, and in its 900th guise, it remained his fi xation. Later, he presented me with a rose from his garden. I have it—pressed—to this day: A talisman of its creator’s ever-blooming compulsion.

Known as the “queen of flowers”, the rose has been beloved of the gods and cherished by royalty across the ages: From Cleopatra, via Marie Antoinette, to the Queen herself, who is said to wear White Rose by Floris (from $120, selfridges.com). Dating back to 1800, this soapily clean fragrance has hints of carnations and greenery, on a rose, violet, iris and jasmine bouquet, set in a powdery base. It is an ingenious choice for a monarch: Something that has stood the test of time, ostensibly straightforward yet unreadable, suggestive of depths she chooses not to reveal—and, perhaps, symbolic of England itself.