Succès Fou by Schiaparelli was introduced in 1952 for the American market. Its name is French: succès means “success,” while fou means “mad,” “wild,” or “crazy.” Together, Succès Fou translates most naturally as “a wild success,” though “smash hit” or “raving success” captures its spirited advertising sense. It is approximately “sueck-SEH foo.” The first word is slightly difficult for English speakers—the initial vowel is closer to the French sound in tu than to a broad English “oo”—but “sueck-SEH foo” is perfectly understandable.
It was an exceptionally apt name for Schiaparelli, whose entire identity had long rested on audacity, wit, and the pleasure of the unexpected. Rather than naming a fragrance after a flower, a romantic fantasy, or an abstract mood, Succès Fou sounds like an exuberant declaration: a woman does not merely hope to be noticed—she arrives as an event. The title suggests applause, glamour, social triumph, romance, a successful opening night, and the lively confidence of a woman whose entrance changes the atmosphere of a room. It has a lightly mischievous quality as well: success is not quiet or dutiful here, but deliciously excessive.
The imagery was closely aligned with this idea. The house commissioned Raymond Peynet, celebrated for his tender, whimsical images of lovers, to create the launch visuals in 1952. His illustrations incorporated Schiaparelli emblems including the ivy leaf, heart, Shocking pink, and the Vendôme Column—symbols that joined Parisian romance to the house’s distinctive fantasy. The perfume was even sold in a miniature flacon with a gold-metal leaf and a chain so it could be worn as a lapel pin: perfume, jewel, and conversation piece at once. A 1954 New Yorker notice charmingly described it as a “flowers-and-forest combination.”
Its launch belongs to the early postwar 1950s, the prosperous, polished age often associated with the height of Christian Dior’s New Look. The nipped waist, rounded bust, full skirt, gloves, hats, pearls, and carefully composed daytime-to-evening wardrobe made femininity feel ceremonial again after wartime restraint. Dior’s 1947 New Look remained the dominant fashion influence until the middle of the decade. In the United States, the period also brought a growing consumer culture, broader access to cosmetics and luxury goods, and a strong appetite for Parisian glamour. French perfume offered a compact, intimate way to possess some of that world.
For many women, therefore, a perfume called Succès Fou would have felt encouraging rather than boastful. It could suggest triumph in love, at a dinner party, in one’s career, or simply in the daily art of looking and feeling beautifully put together. Its tone is buoyant and self-assured, but not hard-edged: Peynet’s lovers, the heart imagery, and the leaf-shaped motif softened the boast into something romantic and charming. It promised the wearer not only success, but success touched by luck, excitement, and a little madness.
Interpreted through its scent, Succès Fou sounds like a woman moving from bright public sparkle into a more private, elegant depth. The sharp green citrus, galbanum, and aldehydes give the first impression of polish, animation, and fresh-cut greenery—almost the crisp, electric lift of a successful debut. Rose, carnation, and jasmine then lend the fragrance a lush, dressed-up floral character, while dry spices add warmth and a faintly exotic sophistication. Finally, the ivy-and-oakmoss chypre base brings the promise down from the ballroom into a shaded woodland: cool leaves, damp moss, soft woods, and an assured lingering elegance. It is “success” interpreted not as sweetness or innocence, but as poise, distinction, and lasting presence.
Olfactively, it was fashionable rather than radically unprecedented. Floral chypres with green, mossy bases were already established as a major postwar direction, especially following fragrances such as Carven’s Ma Griffe (1946) and Dior’s Miss Dior (1947); aldehydes had also become an established signifier of modern French refinement. Succès Fou followed these important currents, while its carnation, spice, galbanum, and forest-like chypre effect gave it a more verdant and warmly textured personality than a purely soapy floral aldehyde. Its true distinction lay in the complete Schiaparelli presentation: the boldly triumphant name, the romantic-surrealist imagery, and the jewel-like ivy-leaf bottle turned a very au courant 1950s perfume style into something unmistakably Schiaparelli.
Fragrance Composition:
- Top notes: aldehydes, citrus, Calabrian bergamot, Portuguese sweet orange, Moroccan orange blossom, Persian galbanum, green notes, Algerian cassie, hydroxycitronellal, benzyl acetate, linalyl acetate, anisaldehyde, ivy accord
- Middle notes: Provencal lavender, Egyptian jasmine, Grasse tuberose, Bulgarian rose, Reunion rose geranium, geraniol, French carnation, Szechuan cinnamon, Jamaican nutmeg, Russian coriander, Zanzibar clove, isoeugenol, Manila ylang ylang, Florentine orris, heliotropin
- Base notes: Hungarian clary sage, Haitian vetiver, Virginian cedar, Mysore sandalwood, Yugoslavian oakmoss, Turkish tobacco, Brazilian rosewood, Singapore patchouli, amber, ambergris, Siam benzoin, Madagascar vanilla, vanillin, Maltese labdanum, Tonkin musk, musk xylene, Venezuelan tonka bean, coumarin, Abyssinian civet
Scent Profile:
Succes Fou opens with the lively flash of aldehydes—man-made materials that do not smell like a single flower, but create a radiant, champagne-like lift. They can suggest the cool fizz of citrus peel, waxed linen, cold air, or petals seen through a bright light. Here they sharpen the citrus: Calabrian bergamot contributes its particularly elegant, floral-bitter peel, gentler and more refined than ordinary lemon; Portuguese sweet orange brings a sunlit, juicy sweetness; and Moroccan orange blossom gives the impression of white petals warmed by the North African sun, honeyed, lightly indolic, and faintly green. The effect is not merely fruity. It is polished, sparkling, and expensive—like opening a jewel case in a garden.
Persian galbanum gives Succès Fou its arresting green character. Distilled from the resinous gum of a plant growing in the Iranian region, it has a remarkable odor: snapped stems, crushed leaves, bitter sap, pea vines, and cool wet earth. It is stern rather than pretty, and makes the flowers seem fresher, more alive, and less sugary. The listed “green notes” and ivy accord amplify this impression. Ivy has no meaningful perfume essential oil to extract, so its odor must be composed from natural and synthetic materials; it evokes dark glossy leaves, damp stone, and the faintly bitter smell of shaded vegetation. Algerian cassie adds a powdery yellow-flower warmth—like mimosa touched with leather, hay, and honey—so that the green opening already contains the first suggestion of the perfume’s plush floral heart.
Several aroma chemicals make this opening bloom more fully. Hydroxycitronellal, traditionally indispensable in floral perfumery, smells like a cool, dewy lily-of-the-valley fantasy: transparent, sweet, and fresh, rather than heavy. Benzyl acetate, found naturally in jasmine and orange blossom but also made synthetically for consistency, brings a juicy white-floral, pear-drop brightness. Linalyl acetate, naturally abundant in lavender and bergamot and also produced in the laboratory, supplies a soft, silvery, bergamot-lavender freshness. Anisaldehyde adds a delicate aniseed sweetness, recalling heliotrope, hawthorn, and sugared almonds. These materials do not replace nature; they give the natural oils radiance, diffusion, and a smooth continuity that flowers alone cannot always provide.
The heart opens like a lavish bouquet arranged in a Parisian salon. Provençal lavender is finer and more floral than the rougher, camphoraceous lavenders of some other origins; it smells blue, aromatic, and clean, binding the brisk opening to the flowers. Egyptian jasmine is deep, velvety, and animalic, with the breath of ripe white petals after dusk. Grasse tuberose, from the celebrated flower-growing district of southern France, adds a creamy, narcotic white-flower richness—green at the stem, buttery at the petal, and faintly camphoraceous in the air. Bulgarian rose contributes the cool, lemony, honeyed freshness of the famed Rose Valley damask rose, while rose geranium from Réunion brings a rosier-than-rose leafiness: minty, green, and lightly peppered. Geraniol, a molecule occurring naturally in rose and geranium but often supplied synthetically, intensifies their fresh petal effect and gives the rose accord a clear, buoyant bloom.
French carnation gives the composition its tailored, old-world elegance. Carnation is not simply floral; it smells of crimson petals, clove, pepper, and a faint cosmetic powder. Its natural oil is limited and difficult to obtain, so the carnation effect is traditionally built through an accord. Isoeugenol—present naturally in clove and capable of synthesis—provides much of its warm clove-flower character, joining Zanzibar clove’s dark, dry spice. Szechuan cinnamon offers a less sugary, more aromatic cinnamon nuance; Jamaican nutmeg smells warm, woody, and faintly nutty; and Russian coriander supplies a cool, crushed-seed brightness with a citrusy, almost peppery lift. Together, they make the floral heart feel dressed in velvet and spice rather than surrounded by confectionery.
Manila ylang-ylang gives a tropical, buttery-yellow floral glow, with banana-like creaminess, spice, and a faintly medicinal freshness. Florentine orris, traditionally associated with iris rhizomes cured and processed in Italy, contributes a beautiful rooty powderiness: cool earth, violet, pale wood, and the texture of face powder. Heliotropin, also called piperonal, is the essential synthetic heliotrope note. The heliotrope flower itself yields no practical perfumery essence, so this almondy, powdery, cherry-pit, vanilla-like material creates its imagined scent. It softens the spicy flowers, lending them a plush, cosmetic softness characteristic of classic French perfumery.
The base enters slowly, as though the bright garden has led into a shadowed wood. Hungarian clary sage smells herbal, tea-like, dry, and slightly tobacco-like, and gives the composition an aromatic lift even in its deepest stages. Haitian vetiver is especially prized for its clean yet complex rootiness: dry earth, grapefruit peel, smoke, and damp roots, usually more elegant and less aggressively smoky than some Java vetivers. Virginian cedar contributes dry pencil shavings, old cedar chests, and a clean, slightly leathery woodiness. Creamy Mysore sandalwood, historically esteemed for its exceptionally rich, milky, buttery, and softly spicy character, rounds these dry woods into something sensuous. Its traditional Indian source has long been scarce and protected, so a modern perfume would use tightly controlled material, sustainable alternatives, or reconstructed sandalwood molecules.
Yugoslavian oakmoss is the soul of the chypre accord: damp bark, old leather, forest floor, salt, and the velvety darkness of lichen after rain. Oakmoss is not moss at all but a lichen, traditionally extracted with solvent to obtain its extraordinarily tenacious, shadowy absolute. It gives the perfume the sensation of ivy-covered trees and a cool, moss-carpeted woodland. In a modern formula, heavily restricted natural oakmoss would need to be used in a low-atranol form and supported by substitutes; this is why vintage chypres often possess a depth difficult to reproduce today.
Turkish tobacco adds the scent of cured leaf: warm hay, dried fruit, tea, leather, and a faint honeyed smoke. Singapore patchouli brings an earthy, camphoraceous, chocolate-dark depth, while Siam benzoin—historically prized from mainland Southeast Asia—melts into the woods with a vanillic, balsamic, almond-like resinous sweetness. Maltese labdanum gives an ambered leather effect, golden, resinous, salty, and sun-warmed, like warm skin and old church incense. The “amber” here is an accord rather than a single natural material: a perfumer’s blend of resins, woods, balsams, vanilla-like materials, and often modern amber molecules, creating the glowing, softly mineral warmth associated with classical oriental perfumery.
Brazilian rosewood would have added a sweet, rosy-linalool woodiness, somewhere between polished rosewood furniture, floral spice, and dry cedar. It is a historically important perfumery material, but true Brazilian rosewood (Dalbergia nigra) is now subject to the strictest CITES trade protection; contemporary perfumers must use substitutes or oils from legally permissible species. Madagascar vanilla brings dark, rum-like, balsamic pod richness, while vanillin—the principal sweet component of vanilla and today usually synthesized—makes that natural material more creamy, diffusive, and enduring. Venezuelan tonka bean supplies coumarin, a naturally occurring material with the scent of new-mown hay, almond, tobacco, vanilla, and sweet grass; synthetically produced coumarin can reinforce tonka’s haylike warmth without exhausting the natural material.
Finally, the animalic materials give Succès Fou its lingering sensuality. Natural ambergris, historically a rare material found after aging in the sea, has a soft, salty, mineral, skin-like warmth; today its effect is generally recreated with modern ambergris-style molecules rather than relying on the natural material. Tonkin musk, once obtained from musk deer, would have supplied a profound warm-skin, powdery, sensual note, but ethical and legal concerns mean it is not used in modern perfumery. Musk xylene, by contrast, is a synthetic nitro musk: sweet, powdery, clean, and persistent, with the smooth effect of warm skin and face powder. Abyssinian civet, traditionally a powerful animalic secretion, would have added an almost shocking trace of fur, warm skin, leather, and indolic floral richness; modern perfumery relies on synthetic civet materials instead. In minute quantity, these notes do not make the perfume smell “animal-like.” They make the rose, jasmine, tobacco, moss, and vanilla feel alive—warmed by skin, darkened by evening, and impossible to forget.
Bottles:
Leaf Bottles for Parfum:
For its parfum, Succès Fou was presented in one of Schiaparelli’s most imaginative bottles: a stylized leaf designed by Fernand Guérycolas and manufactured by Verreries Brosse. The flacon translated the fragrance’s green, wooded character into glass. Its body was formed from opaque white glass, then richly enameled in green and gold, so that it suggested an ivy leaf touched with sunlight or gilded veins. The base was molded “Schiaparelli France,” confirming its French manufacture. Its companion advertising, designed by the beloved illustrator Raymond Peynet, extended the same romantic world in imagery: love, fantasy, Parisian charm, and the leafy enchantment promised by the perfume’s name.
The leaf bottle was not merely decorative; it was also made in an atomizer version, allowing the wearer to mist herself with the parfum. Including its atomizer top, this example stands approximately 5¾ inches high. The idea of a sculptural bottle fitted with a practical spray reflected Schiaparelli’s ability to unite fantasy with modern convenience. It could sit on a dressing table as a small work of decorative art, yet its spray mechanism made the perfume easy to wear as part of a woman’s daily ritual.
Town & Country introduced the fragrance in 1953 as “Schiaparelli’s new romance perfume, Succès Fou,” priced at $23.50 per ounce. The phrase “romance perfume” perfectly suits the leaf design. Ivy traditionally symbolizes devotion and enduring attachment, while the combination of green enamel, gold ornament, and perfume turned the flacon into a romantic token—an object suggesting a secret garden, a Parisian love story, and a wildly successful affair of the heart.
The parfum leaf bottle was offered in four sizes, allowing Succès Fou to be purchased as either a modest luxury or a grand dressing-table statement. In 1953, the ¼-ounce bottle retailed for $5.00, while the ½-ounce size cost $12.50. The one-ounce bottle, the size noted in Town & Country, sold for $23.50, and the lavish two-ounce bottle retailed for $40.00. The range made it possible for a customer to enter the Schiaparelli world with a small leaf flacon, or to choose the larger, more extravagant presentation as an important gift or personal indulgence.
The leaf bottle came in four sizes:
- 2 oz bottle originally retailed for $40.00 in 1953.
- 1 oz bottle originally retailed for $23.50 in 1953.
- 1/2 oz bottle originally retailed for $12.50 in 1953.
- 1/4 oz bottle originally retailed for $5.00 in 1953.
A 1953 newspaper advertisement gave Succès Fou a distinctly romantic identity, calling it “the new love of Paris,” “destined for a romantic future,” and worthy to stand among “the great memory-making French perfumes.” The language is deliberately sentimental and enduring. This was not presented as a passing fashion or a light, disposable cologne, but as a perfume meant to become part of a woman’s personal history—the fragrance of a particular romance, a cherished gift, a city remembered, or an important moment in her life.
The advertisement explained that the fragrance’s character was inspired by the old French ivy proverb, “Je meurs où je m’attache,” literally, “I die where I attach myself.” The printed wording, “Je meure ou je m’attache,” appears to be a variation or typographical rendering; the familiar form uses où, meaning “where.” It refers to ivy, which clings tenaciously to the wall, tree, or support on which it grows, remaining attached there throughout its life. As a romantic symbol, it conveys constancy, devotion, fidelity, and a love so enduring that it cannot be easily loosened or forgotten.
This proverb explains the ivy-leaf bottle beautifully. The leaf was not simply an attractive green shape, but the visual expression of the perfume’s emotional theme. Its green enamel suggested living ivy, its gold details gave it the richness of a love token or jewel, and the bottle’s unusual sculptural form made it feel intimate and symbolic. The advertisement called it a “green ceramic” bottle, although it was actually white glass enameled in green and gold. The error is understandable: its opaque finish and glossy enamel gave it the appearance and weighty visual presence of glazed ceramic.
The scent description is equally faithful to this romantic idea. Jasmine and rose provide the soft, opulent language of flowers: jasmine brings a warm, velvety, almost nocturnal sensuality, while rose lends a feeling of tenderness, beauty, and traditional romance. Rare spices add a more intimate warmth—dry, glowing, and faintly mysterious—preventing the bouquet from becoming merely pretty. Precious woods give it permanence: they create the deep, lingering impression of old polished furniture, shaded groves, mossy bark, and warm skin. The resulting perfume seems to cling, like ivy itself, evolving from bright flowers into a close, woody, haunting presence.
By 1953, then, Succès Fou was being promoted not simply as a “mad success,” but as a fragrance of attachment. Its name still promised excitement and triumph, but the advertising revealed its deeper mood: a sentimental French perfume for a woman who wanted romance with roots—flowers for love, spices for passion, woods for memory, and ivy for the devotion that remains.
Succès Fou was also offered in one of Schiaparelli’s most enchanting novelty presentations: a scent bottle designed as a jabot brooch. Reminiscent of Victorian sentimental jewelry and the little perfume holders once worn close to the body, it transformed fragrance into an ornament. The clear-glass flacon was decorated on its front with a large gilt-brass ivy leaf, its rich golden finish contrasting beautifully with the transparent bottle and its pale perfume. A gilded screw cap, crowned by a rhinestone, gave the miniature bottle the sparkle of costume jewelry.
The flacon was suspended from two delicate chains and attached to a brooch set with a smaller ivy leaf. This arrangement allowed it to be worn at the lapel or neckline, where the bottle moved slightly with the wearer and became both jewel and perfume accessory. The ivy motif was especially meaningful for Succès Fou. It echoed the perfume’s green, wooded character and the romantic French motto associated with the fragrance, Je meurs où je m’attache—“I die where I attach myself”—a declaration of fidelity and lasting attachment.
The New Yorker described this charming object in 1953: at Lord & Taylor, Succès Fou was sold in “a tiny flacon ornamented with a gold-metal leaf and suspended from a tiny chain, so that it can be worn as a lapel pin,” priced at $8.25. It was a wonderfully Schiaparelli idea: perfume was no longer confined to the dressing table, but became a surreal little object to wear, display, and admire. The jewelry presentation also made Succès Fou a particularly appealing gift—personal, romantic, and unmistakably French.
The brooch was presented in a heart-shaped box covered in green paper, with an interior lined in Schiaparelli’s famous Shocking-pink satin. The combination of green, gold, clear glass, and vivid pink was theatrical but carefully coordinated. Green referred to the ivy leaf and forest imagery of the fragrance, while the pink lining immediately identified the gift with the daring glamour of the Schiaparelli house.
A matching pair of gilt-brass “vinaigrette” ear clips was also produced. Although styled as earrings, they incorporated small perfume compartments and diffusers on their reverse sides. The term vinaigrette traditionally refers to a small personal scent container, once used to hold aromatic vinegar or perfume as a refreshment against unpleasant odors or faintness. In Schiaparelli’s hands, that historical idea became a whimsical mid-century jewel: scented earrings that united vintage inspiration with modern fashion novelty. Like the brooch, the ear clips were presented in a green heart-shaped box lined with Shocking-pink satin.
Both the jabot brooch and the vinaigrette earrings are now considered exceptionally rare, particularly when they survive with their original heart-shaped presentation boxes. Complete examples preserve the full Succès Fou experience—not simply the fragrance, but its romantic ivy symbolism, wearable-jewelry fantasy, and unmistakable Schiaparelli color theatre. Both pieces are illustrated in Secrets of Aromatic Jewelry by Annette Green and Linda Dyett, an important reference for collectors of perfume jewelry and scented personal ornaments.
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The smallest Succès Fou presentation was a charming ivy-leaf-shaped purse flacon, designed to carry approximately one dram, or ⅛ ounce, of parfum. Only 1½ inches high, the miniature bottle was made of clear glass and fitted with a brass screw cap, making it practical enough to slip into a handbag while still retaining the fragrance’s distinctive ivy symbolism. Examples appear with either a green paper leaf label or a more luxurious gold-foiled paper leaf label, each emphasizing the little bottle’s botanical shape. Though tiny, it was a complete expression of the Succès Fou theme: a portable token of green leaves, romance, and Parisian fantasy.
Alongside the elaborate ivy-leaf flacons, Succès Fou was also offered in Schiaparelli’s restrained cube-stoppered crystal bottle. Measuring approximately 3 inches high by 1½ inches wide, this tall, upright rectangular bottle was made of clear glass and closed with a sharply faceted glass cube stopper. Its base was typically molded “Schiaparelli” and “French Bottle.” The clean geometry of the design provided a deliberate contrast to the fantasy of the leaf bottle: sober, architectural, and elegant, allowing the color and clarity of the parfum itself to take center stage.
First introduced in 1938, this was one of Schiaparelli’s standard parfum bottles throughout the 1940s and into the postwar years. Produced in France exclusively for the house as Baccarat model no. 788, it was used for several Schiaparelli fragrances, including So Sweet, Sleeping, Shocking, Le Roy Soleil, Zut, and Succès Fou. The smallest sizes were fitted with a stopper carrying an attached dauber, allowing the wearer to apply the pure parfum precisely to pulse points. For Succès Fou, the bottle was housed in a Shocking-pink box decorated with a green ivy-leaf label, preserving the fragrance’s leafy romantic identity even in this more understated presentation.
Its long use during the 1940s may also reflect the practical realities of wartime luxury production. Before the war, Schiaparelli had drawn extensively upon artistic and specialty-glass sources, including makers in Czechoslovakia and Italy. During World War II, restrictions, shortages, and disrupted international trade made dependable French production essential. This elegant domestic bottle offered a practical, reliable format without sacrificing the house’s sense of refinement: its severe, faceted form still felt thoroughly modern and distinctly Parisian.
Two small flaconnettes de sac, or purse flasks, provided still more portable ways to carry Succès Fou. One was a clear-glass cylindrical bottle holding a quarter ounce of parfum, fitted with a gilded cap and sold in 1953 for $5.00. It was supplied with a tiny funnel, allowing the owner to decant parfum from a larger bottle—a thoughtful luxury detail that made the small flask reusable. The second was even more compact: a one-dram, or ⅛-ounce, purse bottle made of gilded metal. Priced at $3.00 in 1953, it was a discreet little personal accessory, designed to be carried in a handbag and used whenever the wearer wished to refresh the perfume’s flowers, spice, and woodland warmth.
In the autumn of 1954, Schiaparelli expanded Succès Fou with an Eau de Cologne Concentrée, a concentrated, double-strength cologne interpretation of the perfume. At 86 proof, it was a substantial alcohol-based fragrance rather than a light, fleeting splash. The format allowed the wearer to enjoy the green citrus, flowers, spices, and mossy woods of Succès Fou more generously over the body, while retaining enough concentration to give the scent an elegant, lasting presence.
The splash version was presented in a modified dressmaker-form bottle holding four ounces. Its shape recalled the fashionable couture associations of the Schiaparelli house, while a metallic-green screw cap tied it directly to the perfume’s ivy-leaf imagery. Retailing for $6.00 in 1954, it was a dressing-table bottle intended for liberal application after bathing or before dressing—a practical but still distinctly glamorous way to wear the fragrance.
A more modern two-ounce aerosol version was also available for $3.00. This easy-grip, leakproof bottle was fitted with a push-button spray and protected by a metallic-green cap. The aerosol presentation gave Succès Fou a distinctly mid-century character: efficient, portable, and designed to dispense a fine scented mist without the need for a traditional atomizer. It allowed the wearer to refresh herself easily at home, while traveling, or before an evening engagement.
Both Eau de Cologne Concentrée presentations were housed in Shocking-pink boxes with green ivy-leaf labels. The bold contrast between pink and green united the house’s famous signature color with the fragrance’s leafy, wooded theme, ensuring that even these more practical cologne formats remained unmistakably Schiaparelli.
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Fate of the Fragrance:
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Launched in 1952, Schiaparelli’s Succès Fou was introduced as a polished floral chypre whose identity could be summarized in three evocative words: “woods, spice and flowers.” Harper’s Bazaar captured this concise image in 1953, pairing the fragrance with its distinctive ivy-leaf bottle. The description was especially apt. Rather than promising a simple bouquet or a conventional sweet floral, Succès Fou suggested flowers arranged against a green, shadowy background—romantic blossoms warmed with spice and set among leaves, moss, and woods.
The perfume’s presentation was as important as its scent. Housed in an ivy-leaf-shaped flacon, it connected Schiaparelli’s love of fantasy and ornament with the fragrance’s forest-like character. Ivy carried suggestions of loyalty, lasting affection, old walls, secret gardens, and persistent life; it transformed the bottle into more than a container. It became a small talisman of romantic success. This imagery was echoed in the perfume itself, whose green, mossy chypre character made the leaf shape feel entirely appropriate.
In 1954, The New Yorker gave a wonderfully candid assessment: although Succès Fou would “never replace Schiaparelli’s great Shocking,” it was “a nice flowers-and-forest combination.” That comparison reveals the perfume’s position within the house. Shocking was Schiaparelli’s legendary, provocative signature; Succès Fou was gentler, greener, and more romantically composed. Its appeal lay not in the startling sensuality of Shocking, but in a refined contrast between opulent flowers and deep woodland notes. At $3.30 for a two-ounce spray cologne, it also offered customers an accessible way to enjoy the Schiaparelli name.
The fragrance was promoted in several formats and at several price levels. Woman’s Home Companion in 1954 advertised Succès Fou Cologne in a newly concentrated mist-spray aerosol atomizer for $3.45, reflecting the growing mid-century enthusiasm for easy, elegant spray application. At the more luxurious end, Graphis listed the French-made and French-packaged perfume in 1954 at $12.50, $23.50, and $40.00—prices that positioned it as a serious prestige fragrance and a desirable gift. The emphasis on its French manufacture would have reinforced the allure of Place Vendôme glamour for American consumers.
The name itself was clearly used as part of the perfume’s charm. In the Women’s Guide to Europe of 1954, Schiaparelli’s Place Vendôme boutique was presented through a miniature fragrance wardrobe: Succès Fou, “indeed a mad success”; Salut, for young girls; Snuff, tweedy and masculine; and Sleeping, wistful. This brief description reveals how effectively the house gave each perfume a personality. Succès Fou represented the triumphant, socially glamorous woman—the one who wanted flowers, sparkle, mystery, and the self-assurance implied by its exuberant name.
By 1956, Succès Fou had become one of the scents included in Schiaparelli’s festive “party snapper” trio. Each novelty package contained a dram of Shocking, Sleeping, and Succès Fou Eau de Parfum for $4.50. It was a clever way to present three different facets of the Schiaparelli woman: the daring sensuality of Shocking, the dreamy softness of Sleeping, and the verdant floral elegance of Succès Fou. Its inclusion confirms that it remained a valued part of the perfume line during the middle of the decade.
A 1956 newspaper advertisement reporting the discontinuation of the Succès Fou “Gift-Gala” packaging, with remaining stock reduced by half, may mark the end of the original ivy-leaf presentation. It is reasonable to regard this as a probable turning point for the leaf bottle, although the advertisement appears to confirm the discontinuation of that special packaging rather than necessarily the immediate end of the fragrance itself.
The perfume continued to appear in newspaper advertising as late as 1969, suggesting that it remained available—perhaps in revised packaging or more limited distribution—for well over a decade after its launch. With no later advertisements presently known, Succès Fou was likely discontinued around the end of the 1960s.
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