In the New York Times article, Chandler Burr explains that tuberose “is notorious among perfumers for being a difficult raw material to master” and that perhaps only Cellier could have managed to create a scent like Fracas. Or, perhaps, she and tuberose’s tempestuous, animalic nature were simply a match made in heaven:

The fragrance is known as a tuberose powerhouse, but other ingredients amplify the effect. Reviewing the fragrance for The New York Times, Chandler Burr detailed its notes: You can read about more fantastic tuberose perfumes here: Frederic Malle Carnal Flower and Gucci Bloom. At first blast, Fracas is sweet—but not cheap or candy-sweet like the mass perfumes of the last two decades. This is the sweetness of seduction. It has a darkness to it, though it’s not heavy; and the more it develops on skin, the more it feels alive and blooming. Put simply, Fracas is a tuberose bomb—a powerful, lush, heady white floral with a narcotic undertow—but Cellier’s genius was in the way that she couched the polarizing flower in other notes to make it three-dimensional, round, and soft. Bergamot and orange blossom top notes give it a freshness; a whisper of peach makes it creamy; cedar, musk, and sandalwood in the base add warmth. The composition has the effect of being confronted with a bouquet of flowers, but also of pressing your nose against salty skin. The ingredients are simple, but the mystique is undefinable.I should probably put some sort of comment to that effect in my post, but it’s a well-known, sad, basic truth is that every classic fragrance that is still on the market has been reformulated. Either it’s because of cost-saving measures, either it’s due to IFRA/EU ingredient restrictions, or it’s because of some combination of both. And very, VERY few companies will ever admit it. A handful do, usually mentioning reformulation generically as an issue resulting from ever more stringent EU restrictions/regulations, but even they don’t mention which specific fragrances have been changed. (You might want to read some of my posts on the EU/IFRA situation to learn more about the way the industry has been handling this or about the specific issues involved.) Just to let you know, the smallest size vials (1 ml) would let you put on the perfume twice, depending on how much you use, or possibly 3 times. They are never filled totally to the top and some of the perfumes they will say come in only 1/4 of the vial. Since you’re in India and can’t get these samples delivered to you within a week the way I can in the US, I would recommend trying out larger sizes to make the time and wait worth your while. 2 ml perhaps? That way, it still won’t be expensive for you? (I always worry about making people spend money on things.) But perhaps 4 ml on some that you think would be more to your liking? I have some other perfumes up for testing by Ormonde Jayne, Tom Ford or Chanel that could fit your tastes but I won’t get around to testing them for a while, so for now, read up on the ones I mentioned up above (and which I’ve reviewed here) and see if they intrigue you. Both Queens have stood the test of time and sit on their thrones, basking in the glory of being the absolute best. I’m fortunate not to experience any of that. [CLARIFICATION: again, I’m talking about my 1998, now “vintage” version of Fracas. ] On me, it is predominantly tuberose and gardenia, with a touch of green, a base of creamy earthiness and, yes, a strong feeling of a hot body after sex. (Though never the gardenia and “ bad-idea sex” that one person amusingly called the scent of Fracas.) The rest — the numerous, subtle nuances and undulating waves of notes — I refuse to break down. I won’t dissect Fracas. I suppose I don’t want to dig into why it creates the magic that it does for me. To me, Fracas is the Ode to Joy in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. There are a lot of cadences involved, but some things are just meant to be appreciated as a majestic whole and to try for yourself. [Ideally, in vintage form.] Heart notes: Tuberose, Jasmine, Orange Blossom, Lily of the Valley, White Iris, Violet, Jonquil, Carnation, Coriander, Peach, Osmanthus, Pink Geranium

Fragrance notes] top notes: bergamot, mandarin, hyacinth, green notes; middle notes: tuberose, jasmine, orange blossom, lily of the valley, iris, rose, violet, coriander, osmanthus, geranium; base notes: oakmoss, vetiver, iris root, sandalwood, cedar, musk, tolu balsam, amber, benzoin. bergamot, orange blossom, greens, peach, tuberose, jasmine, violet, iris, lily of the valley, carnation, sandalwood, musk, oakmoss, and cedar. Fracas is a 1948 perfume created by French perfumer Germaine Cellier for French fashion designer Robert Piguet. [1] It is based on the scent of tuberose, a pungent small white flower (unrelated to rose). A landmark fragrance, it has spawned many imitators and as of 2021 has been in production for more than 70 years later. The freshness of the lily of the valley goes in three directions. First, by using the leaves of a fresh violet that give a green note to this perfume composition; Second, by using methyl anthranilate– a fruit-based substance that refreshes like champagne and the third, by adding synthetic civet, fresh and animal ones – if you can still remember the smell of the old Kouros perfume, then you know what civet is. All this, which is more than one perfume can or should offer, is decorated and embellished with the lower notes of the vetiver and oakmoss, which give the flower composition a darker, more earthy and daring character.Fracas opens with dazzling bergamot and wonderfully indolic, luminous orange blossom. As much as Fracas may be known for being the Queen of Tuberoses, she could also be considered as an orange blossom too. It’s this coalition of tuberose and orange blossom that sets Fracas apart from the crowd. Yes she’s the Queen of Tuberoses but I think she would also stand a good chance of being crowned Queen of Florals too. I’m not saying Fracas is easy to wear. It's so glamorous, so ravishing, and has so much presence that there are certain situations when it feels too much; at an intimate dinner, for instance, it might make feel like a pushy uninvited guest. But in a crowd, it’s devastating: Just watch people’s noses twitch and their eyes glaze over dreamily as they try to sniff out the source of that bewitching sillage. In the history of perfume, there are a few that rise, like the most effervescent of top notes, to a higher plane than any others. These are the textbook masterpieces, fragrances that are inarguably the best of their kind; timeless scents that have spawned countless copies and even more homages. Dior’s deathless Diorissimo, cited by every perfume expert on the planet as the sine qua non lily-of-the-valley fragrance, is one of them. Robert Piguet’s Fracas, the ultimate tour-de-force tuberose, is another. What’s worse is that I have a confession to make, one that I am deeply ashamed of. Up until a week ago I didn’t actually own a bottle of Fracas. I know, it’s disgusting isn’t it? A tuberose nut like me not owning a bottle of THE most classic tuberose fragrance of all time. I hope that you will able to forgive me.

I have shared your mother’s experience over and over. It has “brought every man who passed by my mother to a stumbling, stuttering halt as they wondered what was that marvelous, incredible, hypnotic smell. It was a scent that I always thought was exuberantly joyful and happy, but which seemed to seduce whomever came within ten feet of it.” Perfectly said. Fracas, released in 1948, was the third perfume to be released by French Couturier Robert Piguet. Like the two fragrances to proceed it, Bandit and Visa, it was created by Germaine Cellier and is considered by many to be the reference tuberose fragrance, the one that all others attempt to be in someway or another. But none, I repeat none can ever live up to Fracas – the diva of the tuberose world. The tuberose at the heart of Fracas is hot, fleshy, green, sweet and buttery. It doesn’t quite feel as tropical as the stiflingly hot tuberose of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Nuit de Tubéreuse or as green and stem-like as Frederic Malle’s Carnal Flower or By Kilian’s Beyond Love. The tuberose here is chic, Parisian and beautifully outlandish, it is almost so evocative of nature’s most visceral and erotic white flower that it feels like a parody of itself. I’m hesitant to give one of my usually detailed, hour-by-hour breakdowns for Fracas. Some masterpieces can’t be dissected. And, in all honesty, I couldn’t even hope to sum up its key elements as well as that quote by Chandler Burr just did. But there is also something else: Fracas is such a magnificently blended perfume that the notes often merge together in perfect unity to create a strong, buttery, indolic, narcotically heady “sum total.” It is a symphony of buttery, creamy white, even though there are things that cut through the richness, like the green vetiver and the airy, spring-like, green lily-of-the-valley and hyacinth. Cellier infamously dedicated Fracas ~a voluptuous tuberose scent conceived for ‘femmes’~ to the beautiful Edwige Feuillère, while she promised the butcher Bandit to the ‘dykes’.

Come back when you're older

Even if you love heady florals, it may be best if you first try a sample, ideally for the vintage version. That Fracas is…. well, if you love it, words simply can’t do it justice. And, if you hate it, words can’t seem to convey the full depth of the fear or revulsion. Either way, one thing is undeniable: it is a legend which set the standard for all white florals which followed. This review has been a long time coming. I have mentioned Fracas on this blog many a time, even going as far as to include it as one of my ‘reference tuberoses’ in The Candy Perfume Boy’s Guide to Tuberose, and seeing as I’m a major tuberose fanatic it is almost criminal not to have written a full review. Since inception, it has been reformulated and as of 2008 perfumer Aurélien Guichard was responsible for the newer versions. [2] Reception [ edit ]