Caron Fleurs de Rocailles is an innocent, gentle aldehydic floral loaded with clover, lily of the valley, and lilac. I think it would be a perfect first perfume for a girl, and it’s a good napping scent. If you plan on looking it up on Osmoz, beware: the description of Fleurs de Rocailles is mixed up with “Fleur” de Rocailles, a different fragrance altogether.

Worth Je Reviens is another classic of the genre that you just might find at your local TJ Maxx, although I wonder if its formula has suffered over the years (if you’ve compared the old and the new, please tell me what you think). Rochas Mystère is an aldehydic floral chypre that smells to me like soapy plums. Chanel No. 22 is a dream of white flowers and incense glowing with aldehydes. Because it’s just so plain beautiful, No. 22 might be a good one to try if you’re wary of aldehydes. Jean-Charles Brosseau Ombre Rose is another aldehydic floral that is popular.

For aldehydic time travel, Halston is a good way to go (cue the disco music, please). Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche and Paco Rabanne Calandre remind me of the 1970s with their metallic edges. I know Hermes Calèche is timeless, but it reminds me of the 1970s, too...

Le Dix was created in 1947 and is named after the street address of Balenciaga’s fashion house in Paris. Le Dix came out the same year as Christian Dior Miss Dior...

In 1927, Jeanne Lanvin asked André Fraysse to create a perfume for her daughter’s 30th birthday. Fraysse was only 27 years old, but with Paul Vacher’s help he created what is often recognized as the second great aldehydic floral fragrance, and one of the five most esteemed in the world: Arpège.

Hubert Fraysse reformulated Arpège in 1993. I haven’t smelled the original Arpège, but the consensus seems to be that the reformulation is a respectful play on the original. Combining Osmoz and Basenotes’s information for the newest version of Arpège yields topnotes of aldehydes, bergamot, neroli, and peach; a heart of jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, ylang ylang, coriander, and tuberose; and a base of sandalwood, vanilla, tuberose, vetiver, patchouli, and styrax.

Where Chanel No. 5 is languid, Arpège is full-bodied. If No. 5 is a vase of summer flowers, then Arpège is that same vase three days later, flowers ripe and spicy, with a dirtier base...

Nothing says Grand Perfume like a classic aldehydic floral, and nothing says classic aldehydic floral like Chanel No. 5. But I’ll be the first to admit that I often have trouble with aldehydic fragrances. In the name of personal olfactory growth, I’ll be reviewing a week’s worth of classic aldehydic fragrances in the order in which they were created. At the top of the list, by birth date and by reputation, is Chanel No. 5.

Ernest Beaux created Chanel No. 5 in 1921 as part of a suite of nine fragrances he presented to Coco Chanel. Depending on which story you believe, No. 5 was an accident when too much of a particular aldehyde was added to a scent or was a deliberate attempt to replicate Coco’s modern and blatant use of synthetic materials — think of her ropes of faux pearls.

As is true of many perfumes, No. 5 contains more than one type of aldehyde. Aldehydes provide sparkle and can boost the dispersion of some notes. When you get a strong hit of aldehydes right away from a fragrance, chances are that you’re smelling an “aliphatic” aldehyde. Although some people think of a dose of aliphatic aldehydes as “perfume-y” and old fashioned, when Beaux made it the signature of No. 5 (and No. 22), it was revolutionary...

If you don’t count my grandmother’s crushed velvet bedspread or the beaded doorway of the bedroom of the prostitute who lived across the street, my life at age fifteen was largely devoid of glamour. I was just learning about perfume, and I’d saved enough from babysitting to buy a bottle of Babe, but I scouted the mall for something more sophisticated, something people who had passports and ate caviar might wear. Then, one day at the mall, I discovered Chanel.

A saleswoman placed testers of Chanel Nos. 5, 19, and 22 on the glass-topped counter, but she pushed the bottle of No. 22 forward. “I think you’ll like this one,” she said. To me, Chanel fragrances were the epitome of chic. They didn’t need an elaborate bottle or television ads of a man pretending to be a prince in a puffy shirt to signal quality. I ended up buying the No. 22 bath oil. The oil was fragrant and much less expensive than the Eau de Toilette. (The prostitute had been terrible about paying her babysitting bill.) The inside of my wrists and behind my ears were well moisturized that year...