A fragrance for the yearners

Most capriciously, it seems as though winter’s icy chills have taken hold of New York City overnight. We have entered a quiet season of contemplation, officially entering, in the words of French poet Alfred de Musset, “le premier frisson d’hiver”—the first shiver of winter.

Musset was a poor aristocrat, born to the cultured upper classes but financially limited. His mother was known in Parisian society for presiding over an elegant, literary-leaning salon rather than for any great wealth. And buried in Musset’s extended bio is this tidbit: he is believed to be the anonymous author of Gamiani, or Two Nights of Excess (1833), a lesbian erotic novel circulated semi-clandestinely, rumored to be inspired by his relationship with George Sand—a woman, despite the rather masculine-sounding name, who was also a lover of Frédéric Chopin. (Alexa, play “Ballade no. 1 in G minor, op. 23.”)

It’s no secret that Serviette’s Frisson D’Hiver borrows its name from Musset’s “Que J’aime le Premier Frisson D’hiver.” But the inspiration hardly stops there. Musset’s poem is as complex as the fragrance it inspired, a wistful blend of joy and melancholy (one that can perhaps only be produced by the French). In it, the speaker declares his love for winter in true Romantic fashion, revelling in the images of the hearth lighting up the otherwise dark chateau and the gray Parisian weather overtaking the city. At the same time, the harsh conditions also serve as a painful reminder of a past love:

“Oh! dans tes longs regards j’allais tremper mon âme
Je saluais tes murs. - Car, qui m’eût dit, madame,
Que votre coeur sitôt avait changé pour moi?”

(“Madame, I’d steep my soul in your glances,
But did I even realize the chances
That soon your heart would change for me too?”)

In Musset’s eyes, the longing that nostalgia imparts only acts as a magnifying glass for beauty—though his reflections, like the sting of a harsh winter chill, are sometimes painful, they also deepen his appreciation of his surroundings and memories alike. The poem is at once a celebration, a meditation, and a provocation to remain open to the nuances that often appear alongside beauty. Serviette’s Frisson D’Hiver, too, is deceptively complex. A soft, romantic cascade of white florals and spritely bergamot emerges after the dissipation of a frosty ice accord, an invitation to embrace the still, quiet nature of winter. A fragrance fit for the yearners.

A few supplementary recommendations for those looking for an introspective, poetic winter, courtesy of Serviette: Ada Limón, Joy Harjo, Mary Oliver, and Frank O’Hara.