À la recherche du vols perdu
The New York to Paris run back in the day
Air France has introduced the AF001 fragrance by Francis Kurkdjian (pictured above holding the pointy-tipped perfume blotter preferred by European parfumeurs).
Starting on 15 January 2025, this home fragrance will gradually be introduced at the entrance to certain Air France lounges at Paris-Charles de Gaulle, as a welcome gesture at the start of a journey.
The plan is to gradually phase it into the airline’s “other lounges in Paris and around the world over the coming months.” Here’s the requisite marketing description:
Evoking a feeling of space, calm and light, AF001 accompanies travellers in style. Its comforting musky scent, combined with mimosa from the south of France, adds a sunny, natural vibrancy. Created with hints of jasmine and rose, its delicate floral aura takes travellers on a real olfactory journey, capturing a specific moment in time.
There’s something to be said for using pleasant scents to improve the experience of air travel. Denver airport’s restrooms have a subtle yet distinctive scent called Black Bamboo. It’s unexpectedly elegant and a welcome distraction from the odors one expects to encounter.
The Air France press release reminded me of my time as a frequent transatlantic flier when I worked for Givaudan-Roure (later just Givaudan). The company was headquartered in the old Roure plant outside Paris in Argenteuil (yes, the site of Monet’s bridge painting). Company executives flew business class from JFK or Newark, and because we flew AF so often we would sometimes get upgraded to first class.
The most memorable trip was in the spring of 1991 when several of us accompanied US-president Geoffrey Webster from JFK to Paris on the Concorde. The cabin was not exactly roomy—the VP of sales next to me had the window seat and being a tall guy had to tilt his head due to the curve of the fuselage. Also, the window was rather small.
All that was forgotten as we rolled down the runway and took off. After a couple of minutes in the air, the pilot lifted the nose, gunned the engines, and the G forces pressed us back into our seats. It was awesome.
What came next—déjeuner—was even better. I don’t recall the canapes, but the caviar was excellent. The VP of Sales was, for some reason, repulsed by the idea of eating fish eggs, and eagerly let me have his jar as well. By that time I was well into my glass of the Puligny Montrachet Premiere Cru, described thusly in the wine list: “Ce vin d’une belle robe jaune est très flatteur au nez, offrant des arômes de fruits exotiques, de bois, de vanille.” It, like all the other offerings, was a 1985 vintage. (The carte des vins archly referred to the 1985 Sauternes Chateau Rieussec as “young.”) The Air France cellars lived up to their legendary reputation.
And so it went, through the Maine lobster, the medallion of veal with carrot pancake and sauteed wild mushrooms, all the way to the gateau casino, each course with its own wine. By the time we landed at Charles de Gaulle less than four hours later, I had a nice buzz going. We all then followed Geoff Webster to a bar where we drank and played shove ha’penny until after midnight.
As for the actual corporate meeting we went to Paris to attend . . . the memory of it is lost in the mists of time. But getting there was a blast.