Barbara
Hutton and the Eye of the Needle
Referring
to an archway in Jerusalem nicknamed “The Needle” because it was so narrow that
no mule-train or camel could get through without first unloading its
side-packs, Our Lord made the analogy that it was “easier for a camel to pass
through the eye of the needle, than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of
Heaven”.
He
obviously reckoned without Woolworth heiress, Barbara Hutton.
 |
| Barbara Hutton |
In
the latter part of the ‘40’s, Miss Hutton moved to Tangier and found to her
annoyance that her fleet of Rolls Royces could not get through the narrow
arches of the city. Consequently she had every arch either widened or pulled
down. Such was the power of the 5 and 10 cent store at the time. [i]
She
had taken a fancy to the Casbah: to its colour, bustle, mystery and history, and
bought a palace there, where the cushions were embroidered with rubies,
emeralds and pearls.
Towards
the end of her life, Miss Hutton, who had previously favoured an in-house
fragrance by Givenchy [although which one is never mentioned: Barbara was more
often associated with The Crown Perfumery’s Malabar],
switched to Yves St Laurent’s Rive Gauche,
and had not only herself, but all her bedpans sprayed with it.
Poor
St Laurent. Even if success has always been a double-edged sword, one has to
sympathise.
 |
| Rive Gauche's strapline translates as: "Not a perfume for self-effacing women". But fine for bedpans... |
Selfridges
- 1980
The
gentleman from the Middle East was obviously very taken by the huge display
bottle on show in the Perfume Hall. Fully 12 inches high, 15 inches wide, and 5
inches deep, it gleamed majestically from its position of prominence on a top
shelf behind the counter.
Of
particularly striking design, it had carried off one of the industry’s
“Oscars”, awarded by the trade in New York, and the Middle Eastern gentleman
must have agreed with the judges, because he decided to buy it.
The
assistant apologetically explained that the bottle was for display purposes
only and contained only coloured water, but that she had other large bottles,
not so large perhaps, but pretty large...
The
gentleman was adamant: he wanted the display bottle, nothing else would do, and
he wanted it filled with real perfume. He would pay whatever it cost.
Enquiries
were made. Yes, it could be done. The price? £4000.
No
problem.
The
gentleman got his perfume, and everyone concerned was very pleased. By
comparison, the Salvador Dali limited signed edition at £2,750 was a snip, and Amouage selling in gold-plated silver
flasks at £350 for a scant ⅓ of an ounce, positively cheap.
 |
| Amouage - in its original, opulent incarnation |
This
was no isolated incident. Every one of those huge display bottles can, and have
been supplied filled with the real McCoy – at a price. Any thoughts of lucky
wives can be dismissed – these men are buying for themselves.
What
do they do with it, one has to wonder? Bathe in it? Wash the floors? Perhaps
scented fountains flow in cloistered courtyards in exotic far-flung outposts
like Knightsbridge and St. John’s Wood?
Everyone
knows that Nina Ricci bottle with the doves created by Marc Lalique [L’Air du Temps].
The display bottle is as big as a table-lamp, the stopper with the
frosted-glass doves spans a good 9 inches and must weigh a couple of lbs;
imagine trying to dab that behind your ear.
How
do they lift them? Let alone pour...
Or
is this left for the servants to sort out? Think Rebecca at the Well, circa
1980 with a bottle of Chloë on her
shoulder in place of a water jar.
And
what about all these gigantic bottles when they’re finally empty – what happens
to them then?
“Oh,
they use them for door-stops!” Smiled the pretty assistant in reply.
What
a pity Grossmith isn’t still around with their Phŭl Nana. They could be making a killing now. In Jereboams, of
course...
Sally Blake
date unknown
