Sous le Vent Guerlain 1933 Eau de Toilette

Sous le Vent (Eau de Toilette) by Guerlain

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Sous le Vent (Eau de Toilette) (Guerlain)

8.4 / 10 188 Ratings

A popular perfume by Guerlain for women, released in 1933. The scent is chypreartig-spicy. The production was apparently discontinued.
Pronunciation

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Main accords

Chypre

Spicy

Green

Floral

Woody

Fragrance Pyramid

Top Notes

Galbanum

Aniseed

Bergamot

Cyclamen

Heart Notes

Tarragon

Jasmine

Lily of the valley

Myrtle

Rose

Vervain

Lavender

Ylang-ylang

Base Notes

Moss

Balsamic notes

Musk

Perfumer

Jacques Guerlain

Ratings

Scent

8.4188 Ratings

Longevity

7.4149 Ratings

Sillage

6.5155 Ratings

Bottle

8.7150 Ratings

Value for money

6.514 Ratings

Submitted by Kankuro, last update on 23.04.2024.

Interesting Facts

The perfume, originally from 1933, was re-edited 2005 in the collection "Il était une fois Guerlain" (in English: "Once upon a time Guerlain"). This collection - also named "The Vintages" - was planned to comprise five historical fragrances, but finally remained restricted to "Sous le vent" and "Vega", re-edited 2005 as well.

Reviews

8 in-depth fragrance descriptions

01/23/2021

2
Pricing 7
Sillage 8
Longevity 8.5
Scent

NuiWhakakore
62 Reviews

Translated Show original

NuiWhakakore

Top Review 37

With the wind

Finally a big catch, thought the captain and his crew. They had raised and boarded a beautiful pinnace. But when they inspected the cargo, disillusionment set in. The captain of the pinnace was very informative, which was perhaps due to the saber pricking the tip of his nose.
"These are quite exquisite goods, they pay top prices for them in Holland, they're crazy about them!"
The captain wanted to believe it, also because the last few weeks had not been so successful pirate-wise and because he was not an inhuman, he put the crew of the Pinasse out in two dinghies. It was only about 100 nautical miles to the next island, sporty but doable. They got the sacks of cargo onto the Miss Fortune before sinking the other ship.
But of course, nothing was as easy as they thought, it never was. For weeks they cruised from port to port, never getting rid of the cargo. It got worse when little green buds began to sprout from the first sacks, and shortly afterwards the whole ship was covered with a carpet of blossoms. The first impulse, of course, was to throw all the crap overboard, you couldn't be seen like that, your reputation would be ruined. But after a night of drinking around, the captain had another idea. A vision.
For the scent of the flowers had combined quite exquisitely with the inherent smell of the ship and parts of the crew. Admittedly not with the scent of O'Connel, the ship's cook, that was simply too special. But a certain musky note could not be denied.
And so the captain's plan was implemented by the crew, with little enthusiasm admittedly, but all the same: three pirates each had to use alcohol to extract the scents of flowers, ship and crew. Three were necessary, as two always had to watch out so that the third didn't drink up the alcohol. The one-eyed Pete had been tied to the mast, the proximity to so much alcohol would not have been good for him.
It had been a lengthy endeavor, many things he had tried, many things he had discarded, but now the result was before the captain on his table. A small bottle with a shimmering golden liquid in it. When it was opened, an enchanting scent filled the cabin. A floral splendor spread out, herbaceous green, tart mossy and creamy all at once. Who would have thought that his old ship could produce such fragrances?
Now all he needed was a good name for his perfume. For this he consulted with Angel, a fine-minded former lumberjack from Canada.
"I need a name for the scented water here and everyone knows that all the good scented waters come from France."
"Hmpff!"
"So, do you have any ideas?"
"Hmpff?"
"You're Canadian, they know French!"
"Hmpff, west coast, man!"
So that left the captain on his own again, but he finally came up with the perfect name. He wanted to name his creation, after what was the most important thing in the world to him, his ship. Miss Fortune was too long and not French enough for him, so he left it at Schiff. Since he didn't know any French, he just tried as best he could. His spelling wasn't the best either, which is why in the end there was only one word on the label of the bottle in spidery writing:

Schyfre

------------

Which would prove that François Coty has not discovered the Chypre, but only rediscovered!
Sous le Vent is a chypre to my taste: the florals are tart and dry, carried by the green spiciness of herbs. Verbena, lavender and myrtle I mean to recognize. I have a hard time with the florals, jasmine and rose flash through once in a while, but it's actually an impenetrable blend for me. Galbanum is also clearly discernible at the beginning. In the base, the moss comes through more and more, warmed a bit by balsamic notes and a bit of musky cream. The spicy herbs are gone, but the florals are having a bit of a revival. I would have preferred it the other way around, but that's complaining on a high level. The whole remains quite unsweet, so good!

A real treasure, discovered thanks to Gandix!

06/15/2020

7
Sillage 8
Longevity 10
Scent

Mörderbiene
42 Reviews

Translated Show original

Mörderbiene

Top Review 30

The Widow Hochwohlgeboren

Towards the end of our street the houses became a little bigger and a little finer. And at the end of the cul-de-sac, in the old house with the little oriel tower in the slightly overgrown garden behind the high iron fence, lived the widow Hochwohlgeboren, an old and yet ageless lady whose Mr. Hochwohlgeboren had died years (or decades, nobody knew for sure) ago. The adults in the neighborhood showed her contempt and admiration for her proud and graceful charisma, and pity for her long solitude - at least attention of both positive and negative characteristics. Nobody really knew her, and we children never found out whether Widow Hochwohlgeboren, as the adults called her, was meant to be disparaging or appreciative. Sometimes you could see her driving through the street in her tourmaline-green SL in the evening - to the state theatre perhaps, or to the opera, perhaps even to a gentleman to spend the night. But actually you rarely saw her We kids had quite a bit of respect for her. Not only did she have such charisma, with her strict knot and proud look, she was also the subject of stories passed on from older children to younger ones. She was a black widow, had killed her husband to get the money. She had already had many men and poisoned them all. Alternatively, she had killed her parents, rich people from an old noble family, and her siblings, in order to have the inheritance for herself. Evenings around the campfire or in the tree house lived on such horror stories. We never had the idea to make our pranks with the widow Hochwohlgeboren
Maybe Guerlain's Sous le Vent will suit a black widow. Strict and proud, crisp and tart green, hard and cool, brittle herb and no sweetness.
I'm sure Sous le Vent would suit our widow, Most Reverend Mother. To her emerald-black velvet costume and the black hat, to the old house with moss on the bricks and the not quite fresh colour of the green shops, to the overgrown garden behind the high fence.

We liked to play ball at the end of our street, in front of the gate to the house of the widow Hochwohlgeboren, where the street widened to a small square so that cars could turn around. And one day the ball flew in a wide arc over the high iron fence into this wild green garden in front of the big house. None of us dared to ring the bell or climb over the fence alone to retrieve the ball. A consensus was quickly reached that the ball could simply be left there, one could get another one. But now it was the ball of my brother and me, which we had only gotten for our birthday - that would cause trouble at home. And so we both, my brother and I, finally climbed over the high fence of the widow Hochwohlgeboren and crept through the thicket in the garden to look for our ball After a few meters, the ivy-covered undergrowth opened up into a beautiful meadow whose freshly cut grass mixed with the smell of the herbaceous thicket. And in the middle of this meadow, close to a terrace, lay our ball. The terrace door was open, and on the terrace there was a table and chairs, but even after a few minutes of waiting the old lady was not to be seen, and so we took heart and ran towards the ball. At that moment she came out with a jug of lemonade, discovered us, and told us to sit down. We were forced to obey, since we knew from the stories what the widow was capable of. She asked us our names, who we were, and we told her, and our house number, and that our uncle was with the criminal investigation department, and we would certainly be missed. And the Widow Most Reverend Mother poured us a glass of lemonade each. Actually, from close up she didn't seem so cruel and evil, and her smile was warm, almost as warm as our grandmother's After a few minutes, our friends outside in the small square started to worry and ran to our mother, who immediately mobilized some other mothers, who then went to the widow Hochwohlgeboren.
A few minutes later the mothers of our street were sitting together on the terrace of the widow Hochwohlgeboren with lemonade and tea and cake and chatting with her about the beautiful dog roses in her garden.

In all the austere, tart green of Sous le Vent, there is something hearty about it, a hint of sweetness from the actually unsweet flowers, a touch of warmth in the otherwise cool fragrance, a bit of softness despite all the striking hardness.

From now on, Widow Hochwohlgeboren was rarely heard. Her name was now Fräulein Helfferich, and now and then people met for coffee in the garden, at her place or ours, or at the family next door. That was not her real name, of course, but it was very similar, and although it sounded nice, it was not a very common name. And she probably hadn't killed anyone either
Guerlain's Sous le Vent suits Miss Helfferich, with its external austerity and detachment, and its soft and beautiful core, which is not soft at all, but beautiful. With deep dark herbal green and cool moss, with dog roses and some lavender underneath, all these scents soaked in over the glass with fresh lemonade in the garden of the big house with the oriel tower at the end of our street.

+++

Many thanks to Schatzsucher for this unique test opportunity of a wonderful, unfortunately discontinued and practically no longer available Guerlain's. It was an experience.

01/23/2012

10
Bottle 2.5
Sillage 7.5
Longevity 9
Scent

Larimar
4 Reviews

Larimar

Very helpful Review 5

How I came to love Sous le Vent...

Why do I love Sous le Vent when I can't do most (vintage) green chyprés?
In a one-liner I would describe Sous le Vent as a powdery aromatic chypré.

The opening accord of Sous le Vent consisting of green notes (galbanum, citrus) and herbs, mostly tarragon to my perception, creates a lime-like accord, which is juicy, zesty like the lime in tropical longdrinks/cocktails. The aromatic component is persistent and gets slightly less citric as the powdery woods come in. Next in its development is the revelation of a spot-on perfect chypré accord. By this time Sous le Vent is a skin scent (most chyprés are) that lingers on for a very long time. Very deep in the base is a slightly animalic/indolic component hidden that blooms more in summer I suppose.
Everything is gorgeously balanced in Sous le Vent, the refreshing, reviving aromatic citric opening accord (after all, according to history this was meant to refresh Josephine Baker after her legendary performances), the powdery woods and notes of undergrowth (official notes list) and last but not least a perfect chypré accord to my nose with a naughty hint well hidden underneath.
I have read many different perfume associations for Sous le Vent. What came first to my mind is the green note in the heart that clearly reminded me of the green in the current Vol de Nuit Extrait. Diaghilev by Roja Dove (another superb contemporary chypré) made an appearance when the woody facet and overall tone was most prominent. Eau de Guerlain and its citric opening blast is not far either.
One last word about the concentration - I think the airy character, like a breeze, the refreshing quality is retained best in the EdT concentration, however much I like to wear extraits in general.
Sous le Vent is as per January 2012 still part of Guerlain's product range and not yet discontinued. However, I am not hopeful for this interesting and sophisticated composition for the future. I also do not expect that the Guerlain 'Il etait une fois' collection (of which Sous le Vent is a part) will live on...

02/05/2012

5
Sillage 5
Longevity 7
Scent

Sherapop
1239 Reviews

Sherapop

Very helpful Review 4

Floral Green Morphs Into Old-School Chypre

Guerlain SOUS LE VENT unfolds in two very distinct stages on my skin. The opening is a bright and cheery floral green with a perfect balance of lavender, tarragon and probably other green elements (such as basil). Gorgeous, but incredibly fleeting, I'm afraid.

The drydown of this perfume is standard old-school chypre fare. If there's no oakmoss in this reformulation, I cannot imagine what accounts for the textbook dark and dirty, somewhat musty quality which dominates everything else, wiping out the optimistic opening to produce a brooding, introspective chypre. The overall effect is more that of a dried floral chypre—though the lavender is no longer detectable to my nose in the drydown—than a fruity one.

Although I generally love complex and layered chypres, this one seems pretty one-dimensional and does not stand out from the crowd. The opening of SOUS LE VENT is clearly unisex, but the much lengthier drydown of this perfume smells like a fairly typical "old lady" chypre—not an insult, by any means, in my lexicon, just a description...

10/26/2014

7.5
Bottle 5
Sillage 5
Longevity 9
Scent

GothicHeart
86 Reviews

GothicHeart

Very helpful Review 4

Carried by the wind...

Have you ever thought of selling all your perfume collection just to buy one extremely rare bottle of a perfume that shook your world? And how about if you're a man and the perfume in question is supposedly a feminine one? It's one of these abhorrent yet alluring thoughts, on which one might spend a whole life pondering over it, without being able to make a final decision. The proverbial "What if?".
Sous le Vent is the melancholic smile of someone who gazes at the horizon while being in some far-flung exotic place on this earth and knows there's a war going on back home. But while his thoughts are back there, his eyes are here. Beholding all the eye-hurting beauty which lies before them and floods every single grain of his soul's sands. The war is there, beauty and life is here... And he slowly turns his back to the horizon, and chooses life.
If there was some way to know how a painting would smell like, then I imagine this would be the scent wafting from Paul Gaugin's "Manao tupapau". Surrounded by an otherwoldly aura, created by a seemingly contradictive atmosphere of both innocence and debauchery. Like bright colours which can be a sign of life and a warning of danger at the same time. Like a joyous yet austere beauty, whose austerity comes from the very same quality of being beautiful, and thus unapproachable to many. I can picture Josephine Baker coming out of a giant bottle, and then dancing frenzily around it, before the eyes of the mesmerised audience, as though it was some kind of a totem. Primitive, yes, but also one of extremely skilled craftmanship. You can hold beauty in your hands, but can you hold its essence? You can put your arms around a beautiful woman, but can you put them around her soul? No matter how close you may be, Sous le Vent will always be elusive. Like the never-ending quest for happiness. Like the fleeting and short-lived fulfilment that beauty pursuers may feel every once in a while. Just like the wind, Sous le Vent may be at your side, but it shall never be yours...
I'm fully aware that my words may sound abstruse, but it's not reason that is speaking here, and the exact depiction of abstract sentiments through words is a privilege held by poets. And I'm not a poet... But Jacques Guerlain surely was. One of the greatest poets of his generation I'd daresay, even though he did not write a single word. For me, and based on my sentimental receptors rather than my olfactory ones and the iota of their analytic abilities, this is Guerlain's eternal masterpiece. One of just a handful of scents which drown me under a tidal wave of images and dampen my eyes, every single time I feel them. Not Shalimar, not Mitsouko, not L'Heure Bleue, not Apres l'Ondee, not Jicky. No. This...

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