Coco Chanel

by Lisa Chaney

  She would say:I, who love woman, wanted to give her clothes in which she could be comfortable, in which she could drive a car, yet at the same time clothes that emphasized her femininity, clothes that flowed with her body. A woman is closest to being naked when she is well dressed. I wanted to give her a perfume, but an artificial perfume . . . I don’t want rose or lily of the valley; I want a perfume that is compound.6

  Gabrielle wanted a perfume that scented a clean female body, a fragrance that through its subtle olfactory message completed her picture of a young, forward-looking woman who was independent, fashionable and desirable. Also important, she wanted a scent that would last.

  With very few exceptions, fragrance had been the province of the perfumers, who also sold them. One rare exception, Paul Poiret, had long since developed a beauty and perfume business in tandem with his couture. But while he had been well in advance of his times, Poiret now lagged behind, and it was Gabrielle’s star that was in the ascendant. She was a master at capitalizing on her own and others’ intuitions, and the practical sources of her success would always derive from combining her singular creative abilities with her talents as an entrepreneur. This always involved having around her a small group, usually invisible to the public, who supported and inspired her. This group of people was fairly fluid, but a handful remained with Gabrielle for many years. In this instance, the person acting as a catalyst for her latest project was the inspired perfumer Ernest Beaux.

  It might at first appear that Gabrielle’s introduction of clothes that were costly and simple was the exact opposite of what she now sought in a perfume: a composite refinement. But, for Gabrielle, these two ideas were entirely complementary. She was never in any doubt that her “simple” clothes were actually artificial, and would say “A dress is artificial, fabricated.” In the same way, she believed a perfume shouldn’t try to emulate nature: it should be a synthesis of the natural. Thus her perfume would be a distillation of complex elements in a bottle of refined simplicity.

  Misia said that Gabrielle had “the genius’ to see their Eau de Chanel as the beginning of something, and that its success gave her the idea to go beyond a cosmetic and make perfumes too. Gabrielle is normally given the credit for the original concept for Chanel N° 5: a synthesis of fragrances. She is famously supposed to have described this to Beaux, who then set about putting it into practice.

  There are various claims involving the originality of Chanel N° 5; for instance, it is often said that it was the first synthetic perfume. It wasn’t. It was, however, the first synthetic fragrance created in the twenties. The first “modern” perfume we know of featuring any synthetic components was Fougère Royale, created by Paul Parquet for Houbigant, way back in 1882. (Another early “modern” perfume using synthetics was Jicky, made by Aimé Guerlain in 1889.)

  However, Beaux was one of the earliest perfumers who understood the significance of aldehydes, and his brilliance lay in his ability to blend perfectly the natural and the chemical elements in such a way that the chemicals reinforced the natural. Of almost equal importance was his understanding that the aldehydes kept the perfume stable, thereby making it last far longer once sprayed from its bottle. The use of these chemicals was to revolutionize luxury perfumes.

  When Beaux met Gabrielle, he was experimenting further on Bouquet de Catherine, which contained a pronounced aldehyde element. Early in the recent war, aware of possible sensibilities about the perfume’s namesake, Catherine the Great, the perfume had been renamed. Interestingly, it was now simply a number: Rallet N° 1. Almost certainly, Beaux’s researches on Rallet N° 1 were what he now brought to Gabrielle. In his lecture, he would say, “I came to present my creations, two series: numbers 1–5 and 20–24. She chose a few, one of which was N° 5.” Beaux remembered asking Gabrielle, “What should it be called?” She said that she was presenting her dress collection “on May 5, the fifth (month) of the year; let’s leave the name N° 5.”7

  Gabrielle was superstitious, and it is said that a gypsy had told her that five would be her lucky number. Her zodiac symbol, Leo, is the fifth sign, and she may well have known that five—signifying the cosmos for the old alchemists—was the quintessential number. The story that she never forgot the five-sided star, laid out in the floor mosaic at the convent at Aubazine, may be wishful thinking on the part of Gabrielle’s more recent followers. Whatever the true source of her superstition, she believed with a passion that the number five brought her luck.

  Gabrielle and Beaux had discovered in each other the perfect partner. Beaux’s awareness of the cultural and artistic changes taking place around him had undoubtedly fed into his creation. Meanwhile, Gabrielle was asking for exactly what Beaux achieved: an exclusive synthesis of nature. Nevertheless, even if the story that her questing intelligence enabled her to make a suggestion here or there is true—she would later comment, “How I annoyed him”—in the end it is Beaux who must take by far the greater credit for creating Gabrielle’s perfume. This perfume has acquired such status in the Chanel Company that today it is referred to as their “treasure.”

  Gabrielle and Beaux’s relationship was, though, complementary. Faced as we are with the myth constructed so carefully around N° 5, we will never know if it was Gabrielle or Beaux who initiated the idea at the heart of the perfume’s mystique: a fragrance that smelled of a synthesis of “woman.” For Gabrielle, this meant a perfume symbolizing modern woman: in other words, herself. When Beaux told her that the perfume’s large number of rare ingredients, especially the jasmine, would make it “very expensive,” she is supposed to have said, “In that case, add more of it. I would like to create the most costly perfume in the world.”8

  With Gabrielle’s sensitivity to her times, her instincts had told her years ago that the manner in which she presented what she sold would be essential to its success. And by 1922, Gabrielle herself had undoubtedly become a crucial part of her message. Her edgily fashionable clothes, her short hair (in 1921, still seen by many as outrageous), her possessions, her lovers, her independence—in all this Gabrielle was in the vanguard of her times. In short, while the private lives of the rich and famous were respected infinitely more than today, Gabrielle was nonetheless becoming fascinating to those who had never met her. In the style journals, “Gabrielle Chanel” had previously been mentioned as the name of the designer who had made this or that highly sought-after dress or hat. Now she was unique among the couturiers in that she was in the society pages as much for herself. She was becoming as newsworthy as her illustrious clients. In the October 1921 issue of the magazine Femina, for example, we see Gabrielle in a photograph with Countess Doubazow, being filmed in “a beautiful garden in the environs of Biarritz.”

  Gabrielle had pushed at the old boundaries of acceptability and forged new ones. If appearance is about communicating—and implicit in Gabrielle’s work was her ability to communicate—she was attempting to show women how best they could accommodate themselves to life in this radically altered modern world. What was the kind of appearance that would facilitate their handling of their new society? As Gabrielle said, she was developing her style according to her own needs and, implicitly, the needs of her fellow sex. If fashion articulates and illuminates the moment, Gabrielle did this to a radical degree. For rather than simply following and reflecting what was happening around her, she was ahead, articulating it.

  Continually refining who she wanted to be, while never interested in being a revolutionary, Gabrielle was undoubtedly one of the first “modern women.” But when she said, “One day in 1919 I woke up famous,”9 she was being disingenuous. Gabrielle had achieved notice through years of hard work and careful management of her image. En route she had understood, like the best courtesans, that her image was something she must nurture. With this in mind, we find in a small and very rare black and beige catalogue not only the select array of perfumes and cosmetics that, in two years’ time—by 1924—Gabrielle would have developed for her clients, but also a document reve
aling the essential promotional psychology of the House of Chanel.10

  From the very first sentence of the little catalogue’s preface, we are introduced to the idea not only of outstanding luxury, but also that it is something only properly understood by the cognoscenti. Gabrielle draws in her followers by flattering them with the thought that they are the select few, who possess a secret “knowledge”:Luxury fragrance: it is an expression that has lost much of its value through excessive and improper use . . . The Chanel fragrances, created exclusively for a clientele of connoisseurs devoted to the idea of... an original fragrance, different from all the others . . . Mademoiselle Chanel has succeeded in producing . . . fragrances that so eloquently evoke the Chanel style they rank among her finest creations. For an elite clientele price is a secondary consideration. Mademoiselle understands this . . . These ingredients are combined in the test tubes of a master perfumer . . .

  The pride of Mademoiselle Chanel is to offer to a well-informed clientele, in simple bottles and cases adorned solely by their whiteness, precious drops of perfume . . .

  It was never imagined that they could become luxury fragrances for the general public . . . They must remain exclusive . . . chosen by an exclusive public with refined tastes.11

  As with the alchemists, the Chanel client is enjoined to become part of a select, semisecret society, membership in which makes her exclusive. In the twenties, luxury perfumes were sold in bottles that were glassblowers’ “triumphs” of excess. Intended to signal the promise of the contents, they were in the shape of cupids, suggestive female figures, or were richly exotic, associating the perfume with the seductive mystery of the East.

  The designer of the unmistakable Chanel N° 5 “simple bottles and cases adorned solely by their whiteness” is yet another mystery. In 1973, Gabrielle’s lawyer of many years, Robert Chaillet, said that she designed the bottle herself: “As soon as she had found her perfume . . . she designed something supremely simple and therefore supremely sophisticated . . . The bottle has never changed. There is total recognition. We can run a full-page advert in the most fashionable magazines simply by photographing the bottle. We need no explanatory text.”12 What would twenty-first-century advertisers give for this level of brand recognition?

  Another story tells how the first bottles were made by a company called Brosse, and that they were a copy of one of Arthur Capel’s toiletry containers. A third story has it that in 1924, when Gabrielle would make a deal securing distribution of her perfumes, the bottle was designed by Jean, the son of the fashionable artist Paul Helleu. This story may be the correct one, for we know that Jean Helleu began working for Gabrielle in the twenties, and remained with the Chanel Company for the rest of his working life.

  According to Gabrielle’s lawyer, following her choice from Beaux’s samples, Gabrielle dined that evening with friends in the largest restaurant in Cannes. With an atomizer of Chanel N° 5 on the table, she sprayed each person who walked past. “The effect was amazing. All the women who passed the table stopped, sniffing the air. We pretended not to notice.”13

  Asking Beaux to bottle samples for her, Gabrielle is said to have returned to Paris with a hundred in her luggage. When clients were in the fitting rooms, her assistants sprayed the perfume around. Particularly privileged clients were given a little sample bottle of N° 5 as a present, and when Gabrielle was asked where it might be bought, she said she had just come upon it while away; she’d forgotten where. Meanwhile, she prodded Beaux for delivery of the larger quantities she had ordered, and was told that production could not be hurried. (To reiterate the beginning of this chapter, it is almost impossible that Dmitri introduced Gabrielle to Beaux in early 1921 and a few months later the perfume was in production.) Eventually, Beaux was ready. Gabrielle had by now cleverly drummed up sufficient interest among her clients that it appeared she was simply following their requests. In this way, Gabrielle now began selling small quantities of her perfume in all three of her salons, in Deauville, Biarritz and Paris.

  A crucial element in the signature design of the Chanel N° 5 bottle is the small black letter C within a black circle set as the seal at the neck. On the top of the lid are two more Cs, intertwined back to back. We know from the little Chanel catalogue mentioned above that from at least 1924, the N° 5 bottles sported the unmistakable logo. While we can’t be certain who designed the minimalist art deco bottles for the perfume, the equally inspired piece of graphic design, the black letters CC, definitely originated with Gabrielle. It is of course correct that these two Cs refer to Gabrielle—in other words, to Coco Chanel herself, and would become the logo of the House of Chanel. But a discovery we made gives a possible additional meaning to these intertwined Cs.

  Gabrielle was fascinated by symbols and surrounded herself with objects ripe with meaning. (She apparently also read tarot cards.) Wheat, for example, traditional symbol of prosperity, is a recurrent theme. Then there are the lions—symbols of Gabrielle’s astrological sign, Leo—in wood, silver, bronze and alabaster. (Gabrielle also used the lion as a signature symbol on her buttons.) In 1921, she had Baccarat make her a stately crystal chandelier, incorporating several numbers and letters. This magnificent sculptural object, now in Gabrielle’s apartment on rue Cambon, includes among its great glass pendants of fruit and flowers in crystal and semi-precious stones repeated metal figures of the number five (Gabrielle’s lucky number), B for Boy (Arthur) Capel and several double Cs for Coco Chanel.

  At the Paris Polo Club, where Arthur had played so often, there is a large silver trophy inscribed “Arthur Capel Cup.” This was donated by his sister, Bertha, in Arthur’s memory, almost certainly in collaboration with Gabrielle. The top of the cup sports what is a most unusual form of decoration on a polo trophy for the period, a relief band of intertwined circles, or back-to-back Cs. The cup was first presented to a player in August 1922, only nine months after Arthur’s death. These Cs may represent Arthur and Gabrielle’s surnames. With Arthur still uppermost in Gabrielle’s mind, it could well have occurred to her to suggest this decoration to Bertha. Representing Arthur’s and her own name: Capel and Chanel. If not in actuality, in a symbolic fantasy Gabrielle and Arthur would be conjoined.

  As for the perfume’s name, the claim that N° 5 was the first perfume to be named simply by a number, rather than the descriptive titles then in vogue, is not correct. As we have seen, Ernest Beaux had already set the precedent several years earlier, when renaming his Bouquet de Catherine with a number: Rallet N° 1. Yet while Rallet N° 1 would drop from the perfume repertoire, the apparently indeterminate name Chanel N° 5 would acquire its own very modern kind of romance. This would help sustain N° 5’s developing myth, in turn assisted by one of the longest and most sophisticated advertising campaigns of the century. The very first image was created by Gabrielle’s friend the caricaturist Sem. Here a slim short-haired girl in a slight blue dress, the same as the ones Gabrielle then wore, ecstatically holds up her hands to a huge bottle of Chanel N° 5.

  Whatever the real chronology of the development and launch of Chanel N° 5, shortly after Gabrielle and Dmitri’s return from the south of France, in late spring 1921, Gabrielle invited Dmitri (accompanied by his faithful servant Piotr) to stay with her at Bel Respiro, Arthur’s former house. For a while, this elegant house on the edge of Paris became a rendezvous for Dmitri’s émigré comrades and Gabrielle’s avant-garde artist friends. Then, when Paris closed its doors for the summer vacation, Gabrielle hired a house on the Bay of Biscay, not far from the flourishing southern resort of Arcachon.

  Parts of this dramatic Atlantic coastline were frequented in summer by a sprinkling of artists and writers—both those who eschewed the more developed resorts and those with deeper purses who preferred to be more remote in their villas. With the surf breaking against the garden wall of their white villa, the lovers were taken care of by Piotr and Gabrielle’s faithful Joseph and Marie. In the two months they spent by the sea, the days merged quietly one into the other, with swi
mming and walking on the beach or through the pine woods. While a handful of friends had villas nearby, there were not many visitors. But it seems to have pleased Gabrielle and Dmitri to live quietly like this for a while.

  Once the summer was over, Gabrielle launched herself into a venture she had already instituted back in Paris. For some time, she had used her rooms at the Ritz for overnight stays. But shortly before her holiday she had left behind her quiet retreat, Bel Respiro, and taken up residence in a distinguished eighteenth-century hôtel particulier on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré.

  Gabrielle believed that in losing Arthur she had lost her life’s companion, and this had left her essentially lonely. In some sense, it also released her and would drive her forward even further. Yet in releasing her from some of the private constraints accompanying real dependence upon a man, it also left Gabrielle without an emotional anchor.

  In 1921, Gabrielle was thirty-eight but looked almost ten years younger. She was extremely attractive, in possession of considerable wealth, much experience and growing social prestige. However, her emotional hardships, combined with her growing power, had brought about a certain disillusion. During the twenties, a change would take place in Gabrielle: it was now she who might well initiate a relationship. Meanwhile, in combination with her pride in herself and her achievements, the genuine modesty that went hand in hand with Gabrielle’s self-assurance was sometimes obscured by her great force of character. And her subtlety could go unnoticed by all but those few who knew her well.