Francis Kurkdjian brings a Rose Star to life for Dior

Francis Kurkdjian: What’s interesting is to see how certain objects or symbols dear to a designer during their lifetime can later become true codes of the house. Christian Dior, for example, had a particular passion for flowers, especially roses. He designed many dresses based on the shape of roses. One of them, known today as the ‘New Look’, was actually called Corolle because it was shaped like an inverted rose. The term New Look was coined by the press (by Carmen Snow, editor-in-chief of Harper’s Bazaar magazine, editor’s note) and ended up referring to the entire collection, but each dress had a specific name.

This is another major symbol for Christian Dior. The couturier often recounted the moment when, in Paris, he found a star in the street. This small object became his favourite lucky charm, which he still had when he passed away. These elements, the rose and the star, became codes for the fashion house, which every subsequent artistic director has referred to. Stars can be found on the back of certain perfume bottles, on bags, in numerous advertising campaigns… and even in architecture. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but in the entrance hall of La Colle Noire, the floor is decorated with a star combined with a compass, a wind rose, reminiscent of the one at Les Rhumbs, the Dior family home in Granville, Normandy. The idea behind this fragrance was to see how we could play with these two codes: the rose and the star.

We started with the name. At the very beginning, I wanted to call it Rose des Vents, but the name had already been registered. So we looked around for associations between ‘rose’ and ‘star’, which gave us the code name Rose Etoile, which I thought was both poetic and strong. For me, a powerful name opens creative doors: when you say it, you can guess what the fragrance will be like. Rose Star stood out.

We worked with the Centifolia rose. Here is one that I picked in the garden… If you smell it, you can discern five main facets that I linked to the five points of the star. First, there are citrusy, lemony notes. Then there is a spicy aspect, which is very present in roses used in perfumery. We never think of roses as spicy because we consider them as a whole, but they have very powerful clove nuances. Then there is a fruity side, somewhere between lychee and strawberry, followed by a honeyed facet that you can’t really smell now because this rose is very fresh: I picked it less than an hour ago. And finally, there is an impression of umami, something very sweet and very mellow. I associated this facet with musk. It wasn’t deliberate marketing, but a happy coincidence: five facets of the rose and five points of the star, like a lucky charm.

There are currently more than 10,000 different species of roses in the world. Of all the floral notes used in perfumery, the rose is the only flower that grows everywhere on the planet, with the possible exception of Greenland, because it has the ability to adapt to different climates. Roses are found in China, Asia, Africa, Europe, America, Australia, etc. This may be why it is so popular. Furthermore, the rose is a very ancient flower, one of the first to be found on earth. The naturalist and historian Pliny the Elder listed the different species available in his time (he was born around 23/24 AD and died in 79 AD): more than 2,000 years ago, there were only 14 varieties of roses! It was used as a remedy because its spicy flavour has beneficial effects on the skin and certain antiseptic properties.

From the 17th century onwards, thanks to trade with China. Hybrids were created from rose varieties originating in China on the one hand and Europe and the Middle East on the other. Until then, perfumers had only used one species, Rosa damascena, which we also call the Middle Eastern rose, as it is the oldest rose we have for perfumery. At the end of the 18th century, in Juan les Pin, a breeder invented a rose that he called Centifolia because it was supposed to have 100 petals, which was not the case. It became the second species of rose used in perfumery. There is also a Taif rose, but it is only a derivative of Rosa damascena. Currently, we use two roses in perfumery. The first, the Centifolia rose, is found in this fragrance. It is also called the May rose because it only blooms once a year, in May, and you only have one month to harvest it, which makes it precious. The second is the Damask rose, which can be harvested from May to September and is slightly less expensive.

On a scent card, a fragrance can seem cold and distant. But on the skin, it warms up, breathes, becomes carnal, sensual, almost sexual. It is in contact with the skin that a fragrance reveals its true nature. I like to say that a fragrance on paper is like a garment on a hanger: it needs a body to give it a soul.

That it becomes a best seller (laughs).

I know that quote and I love it. After the Second World War, the trauma was immense; how could life return to normal? By recreating joy, by bringing about beautiful things. That’s what I’m trying to do today. And I see parallels with our own era: it’s not the same shock, of course, but between crises, geopolitical tensions, climate change and social divisions, we wonder where the world is heading. I too would like to ‘enchant the world’ and create perfumes like bursts of light.

Yes, when I was a child and then a teenager, I often heard Françoise talk about him. And later, when I became interested in fashion and then perfume, I constantly asked her to tell me stories from behind the scenes. She told me how kind Christian Dior was to his employees, who were often very young. Imagine a couture workshop in the late 1940s or early 1950s: it was full of 16-year-old girls who had entered the world of fashion at a very young age. Françoise was not even 18 when she joined the workshop. Christian Dior, who was in his forties, spoke to them in a very fatherly way. When the presentation season came around, the whole house buzzed with excitement, just like before a theatre premiere. From the workshops to the catwalk, from the workers to the models, everyone had a crucial role to play. It was exhilarating: the fruit of months of labour was about to be presented, with the uncertainty of whether people would like it or not. When you manage 2,000 to 3,000 people, you have to succeed. You oscillate between pride in the work accomplished and fear of disappointment. Christian Dior knew how to transform this tension into a dream.

I hadn’t thought of it that way. It would be a fabric that doesn’t really exist, something airy like chiffon, sensual like very fine cashmere, or silk. Perhaps silk velvet, with its two sides: on one side, there is the extremely soft fluff, and on the other, when you brush it against the grain, you feel a slight catch under your finger. It reminds me of the sensation of a petal brushing against the skin: delicate, velvety, feathery. You could say… a fabric made of feathers?

* This anecdote is recounted in the Dior Gallery.
** Dior by Dior, 1958, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London.