Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat c1920

Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat—originally named Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat—was created by Aimé Guerlain in 1870, during a time of elegance, restraint, and scientific fascination with nature. Its very name, rendered in French, translates to Spirit of Cédrat Flowers, and would have been pronounced by the fashionable women of the day as "es-PREE duh flur duh SAY-drah". The phrase evokes a delicate yet sparkling impression—something refined, ephemeral, and laced with light. Though “fleurs de cédrat” (citron flowers) are not especially fragrant in reality, this name poetically suggests a scent drawn from both the tree's blossoms and its fruit—capturing not just the physical material, but the very essence or soul of the plant.

The name Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat calls to mind images of sun-dappled Mediterranean groves, golden fruits still clinging to branches, and petals trembling with dew. It suggests purity and clarity, with an underlying sophistication—a composition not heavy or ornamental, but lively and effervescent. In perfumery, the word esprit often referred to a distillation method involving alcohol and volatile oils, and the term reinforced the sense of capturing something light, fleeting, and essential.

Launched in 1870, the perfume emerged during the Belle Époque, a period of increasing wealth, refinement, and technological progress, especially in Paris. This was a time when fashion was transitioning from the more rigid silhouettes of the mid-19th century toward softer, more natural lines. Bustles were still in vogue, but fabrics became lighter, and women’s tastes leaned toward fresher, more wearable scents. In perfumery, heavy, animalic, and resinous accords dominated formal fragrance compositions, but colognes and citrus waters maintained popularity for daytime use and personal refreshment. Within this context, Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat stood out for its sparkling lightness and clarity. It was both fashionable and functional—a nod to good hygiene, elegance, and a cultivated modernity.

Women of the time would have viewed such a perfume as clean, uplifting, and refined—perfect for morning toilette or for wearing beneath layers of lace and crinoline to gently scent the skin. It carried associations with youth, health, and sunlit gardens, providing an olfactory escape from the sootier aspects of urban life. A fragrance bearing the name Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat might also have appealed to notions of the exotic and the botanical, as citron was not as commonly used as lemon or orange, lending a sense of distinction.

So what exactly is cédrat? Known in English as citron (Citrus medica), this large, thick-skinned citrus fruit is one of the oldest cultivated citrus species and is distinct from lemons and limes. Its peel is intensely aromatic, with an oil that smells richly of lemon zest—but with a greener, more resinous quality. Unlike lemon oil, which has a sharp acidity and sparkling tang, cédrat is rounder, softer, and more complex. It smells of sun-warmed rind, crushed leaves, and a hint of balsam. In a perfume, cédrat brings brightness and cheerfulness, but with more depth and texture than ordinary citrus. Its essential oil lifts the composition with a natural brilliance, while anchoring it in something ancient and earthy.

When Guerlain later reissued the scent as Eau de Cédrat in 1880, it reflected the growing popularity of citrus-based eaux de cologne, which had become a hallmark of modern grooming. Yet Aimé Guerlain’s interpretation was not a simple cologne—it carried the elegant signature of the house: refinement, balance, and the ability to elevate familiar materials into works of art.

In context, Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat was both aligned with the prevailing love for colognes and refreshment, and ahead of its time in its singular focus on a lesser-used citrus note. It offered a blend of clarity, naturalism, and gentle luxury—qualities that would later define the enduring Guerlain style.

In the summer of 1889, Le Journal des Demoiselles—a leading publication for fashionable young women in Paris—captured the refined sensibilities of the Parisienne in its praise for Guerlain’s Eau de Cédrat. The article noted the heightened sensitivity of the skin during the warm season, when heat and sun exposure made complexions more delicate, reactive, and prone to discomfort. In such conditions, many women began avoiding typical toilet waters—those heavily perfumed with alcohol or synthetics that could sting or irritate the skin. Instead, they turned to something more gentle, more refined: Guerlain’s Eau de Cédrat, celebrated for its immediate soothing and refreshing qualities.

This was not simply a fragrance; it was a remedy—a product of elegance and care. The citron-based water, light and luminous, was praised not only for its scent but also for its dermal comfort. The text notes that it “stills all skin's harshness,” suggesting its use was as much therapeutic as it was aesthetic. Women dabbed it delicately on the face and décolleté to calm overheated skin, relishing its ability to cool and soften without irritation. It offered relief with refinement, delivering both beauty and comfort in a single gesture.

Most fascinatingly, the article mentions an alternative use that speaks volumes about the nature of luxury and fashion at the time: the very same perfume, when poured into a tumbler, was used as a gargle by those “of the highest elegance.” This was not a medical tonic but a mark of cultivated taste and elite hygiene. The idea that a perfume could be used internally—at least to refresh the mouth—was both extravagant and telling. It reflects a time when fragrance was deeply integrated into personal care rituals, when scent was not just worn but experienced as a full-body enhancement of one’s daily life.

In this context, Guerlain’s Eau de Cédrat was not merely a summertime perfume—it was a symbol of discretion, sophistication, and self-possession. Its citrus clarity stood in contrast to the often heavy, cloying perfumes of the era, offering a new kind of luxury: one that breathed with light, freshness, and restraint.

Fragrance Composition:

So what does it smell like? It is a classical citrus fragrance with notes of lemon, bergamot and cedar wood. This wonderfully subtle, fresh and tangy fragrance has the mysterious sensuality of the Mediterranean air.

• Top notes: lemon, lime, grapefruit peel, citron and bergamot
• Middle notes:
• Base notes: cedar

Bottles:

The original Eau de Cedrat was housed in a long-necked bottle:

Fate of the Fragrance:

The original Cédrat extrait, created by Aimé Guerlain in 1870, was presented in the elegant Carré flacon—a square-cut bottle that reflected the house’s refined design sensibility during the Belle Époque. This early version was a concentrated extrait, showcasing the sharply luminous and aromatic character of citron, or cédrat, a fruit revered for its uniquely vibrant zest and subtle floral nuances. Though beloved in its time, the original formula eventually fell out of fashion and was discontinued, making way for a new interpretation aligned with modern tastes of the early 20th century.

In 1920, Jacques Guerlain reimagined the fragrance, giving birth to Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat. This lighter, more refreshing eau de cologne was inspired by his time spent along the French Riviera, a region whose crisp Mediterranean air and sun-soaked citrus groves left an indelible impression on the perfumer. The Riviera—synonymous with effortless chic, sparkling waters, and the scent of lemon trees in bloom—became the olfactory muse for this reformulation. It was not just a new version of an old fragrance, but a reinterpretation of what citrus could mean in modern perfumery.

Jacques translated the vivacity and breeziness of coastal life into scent, softening the sharper edges of Aimé’s original while keeping the soul of the fragrance intact. Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat became more airy and ephemeral, a true eau de cologne meant for generous application and everyday elegance. Where the extrait was once reserved and concentrated, this new version was refreshing, casual, and timeless—perfect for morning routines, post-bathing rituals, or cooling the skin under the summer sun.

In this evolution, we see a shift not only in formulation but in the cultural role of perfume itself. From the formality of the 19th-century extrait to the Riviera-influenced freshness of the early 20th century, Cédrat moved from being a statement of refinement to an embodiment of leisure and modern sophistication—proof of the Guerlain family’s genius for both honoring tradition and innovating for the future.

Combat, 1954:

"Esprit de Fleurs de Cedrat by Guerlain: it is an eau that smells of the bitter peel of grapefruit and the acid pulp of limes, rather than the flower of citron. What woman, busy with the pleasures of summer, does not would find, by massaging their arms, the sapid seduction of a refreshing fruit?"

Combat, 1955:

"Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat by Guerlain - here is concentrated in a bottle, the bitter peel of grapefruits and the acid pulp of limes, rather than the slightly dizzying smell of citron flowers. What a woman, busy at games of summer, would not find, by massaging their arms, the rapid seduction of a thirst-quenching fruit?"

The mid-century descriptions of Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat—later known as Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat—reveal a fascinating shift in both how the fragrance was interpreted and how it was used. In 1954 and 1955, the French magazine Combat offered impressions that moved beyond the literal naming of the scent, instead capturing its sensory and emotional essence through vivid metaphor.

Rather than focusing on the delicate blossom of the citron tree, Esprit de Fleurs de Cédrat was portrayed as a bracing, almost edible experience: not floral, but sharply zesty. The writer draws attention to the "bitter peel of grapefruit" and the "acid pulp of limes," suggesting a perfume that leans into the verdant, tart energy of citrus at its most mouthwatering and exhilarating. These references aren’t just olfactory—they evoke the juiciness and tactile texture of fruit freshly torn open under the sun, with pithy bitterness clinging to the fingertips.

In this portrayal, the perfume becomes more than a scent—it’s a seasonal ritual. “What woman, busy with the pleasures of summer,” the author muses, wouldn’t be seduced by the idea of massaging this fragrance into her skin, almost as though it were a splash of cold water or the refreshing squeeze of a citrus fruit? The notion of massaging the arms with perfume is especially telling—it speaks to a casual intimacy, a sensory pleasure rooted in self-care and sun-drenched elegance.

By 1955, Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat is once again described as “the rapid seduction of a thirst-quenching fruit,” reinforcing the idea that this eau was not just light and cooling, but also emotionally resonant—a joyful tonic for the heat, a companion to leisure. This emphasis on grapefruit and lime—neither of which is listed in the original formula—suggests that the citron note was experienced not as floral, but as a bright, sour-sweet accord more associated with other citrus fruits. It highlights the complexity and versatility of cédrat itself, which contains layers of lemon, lime, and even green woodiness, depending on how it is expressed.

Together, these descriptions offer a snapshot of how Guerlain’s citrus eau functioned in the lives of mid-century women: not as a grand parfum, but as a sensual, refreshing gesture. It was a scent for hot skin, sunlit arms, and the kind of elegance that doesn’t require an evening gown—just a summer afternoon and a bottle of liquid light.

This fragrance is still in production and is sold in the white bee flacon.