Launched in 1938, Danger by Ciro was a perfume that carried an air of intrigue, seduction, and unapologetic boldness. The choice of the name Danger was undoubtedly deliberate—Ciro was known for crafting evocative names that captured the essence of their fragrances. The word Danger originates from Old French dangier, meaning "power, authority, peril," derived from Latin dominium ("ownership, control"). It conveys both risk and allure, the tantalizing pull of the forbidden. In a fragrance, Danger suggests an intoxicating composition—one that exudes confidence, sensuality, and perhaps even a touch of recklessness. The name alone would have sparked curiosity, appealing to a woman who saw herself as daring, mysterious, and alluring.
By the late 1930s, the world was on the brink of immense change. Europe stood at the precipice of World War II, and tensions were rising across the globe. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, fashion and beauty remained a source of escapism. The Art Deco movement was fading, giving way to the glamour and sophistication of Hollywood's Golden Age. Women wore tailored suits with broad shoulders, nipped-in waists, and dramatic, structured hats. Evening gowns were elegant and fluid, often in rich jewel tones or deep, mysterious blacks, exuding refinement and power. Makeup trends emphasized strong red lips and dramatic, arched brows, echoing the confidence and bold femininity of the time. Against this backdrop, a perfume called Danger would have felt thrilling and seductive, perfect for a woman who commanded attention and refused to be demure.
What does Danger smell like? If it were to embody its name in scent, it would be bold, intoxicating, and deeply sensual—a fragrance that leaves a lasting impression. The dominant lavender note introduces an unexpected contrast, a cool, slightly camphoraceous freshness against the dark sensuality of musk and civet. Lavender, often associated with masculine colognes, would have made Danger feel daring for a woman to wear, reinforcing the sense of mystery and power.
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The heart of the fragrance is a lush, spicy-sweet bouquet of Bulgarian rose, carnation, and jasmine, creating a deeply romantic and extravagant floral impression. Bulgarian rose otto is known for its rich, velvety depth, with honeyed, slightly peppery undertones that add warmth and allure. Carnation, with its clove-like spice, would have intensified this effect, lending a bold, almost reckless energy to the composition. Jasmine absolute, a staple of sensual perfumery, would have softened the sharper edges, enveloping the wearer in an opulent floral haze.
The base is where Danger truly lives up to its name. A blend of civet, musk, amber, and rich balsamic resins creates a warm, animalic depth that lingers on the skin. Civet and musk add a raw sensuality, making the fragrance feel almost dangerously intimate—not merely a perfume, but a statement of power and seduction. Amber and resins like benzoin and labdanum contribute a smooth, slightly smoky warmth, while oakmoss and patchouli add an earthy richness. Vanilla and tonka bean temper the darker elements with a hint of sweetness, ensuring the fragrance remains irresistibly addictive rather than overpowering.
Floral oriental fragrances were already well-established by the late 1930s, but Danger was unique in its bold use of lavender in a highly feminine composition. While many perfumes of the time leaned into powdery aldehydic florals (inspired by Chanel No. 5) or sweet, rich oriental scents (like Guerlain’s Shalimar), Danger walked a more provocative line. It blended the softness of florals with the assertiveness of spices, musk, and animalics, making it a fragrance for a woman who was confident in her allure.
This was a time when perfumes were meant to make a grand entrance. A woman wearing Danger wasn’t trying to fade into the background—she was commanding attention. It was a scent for winter, meant to be worn with luxurious furs, bold lipstick, and an air of self-assurance. In an era when women were asserting their independence and power, Danger would have resonated deeply—it wasn’t just a perfume; it was a declaration.
Fragrance Composition:
So what does it smell like? Danger by Ciro is classified as a floral oriental fragrance for women with a very spicy-sweet, lush rose, rich, heavy musk, and civet bouquet with a dominant lavender note. It was advised to be worn during winter.
- Top notes: aldehydes, Calabrian bergamot, Provencal honey, Saigon cinnamon, Zanzibar cloves, Chinese ginger, Spanish apricot, Ceylon nutmeg, Russian coriander
- Middle notes: Bulgarian rose otto, Turkish rose absolute, Grasse jasmine absolute, Moroccan mint, Malabar pepper, Indian tuberose, Tunisian orange blossom, Tuscan violet, Peruvian heliotrope, Mitcham lavender, French carnation, Dutch lilac
- Base notes: Abyssinian civet, Omani frankincense, wormwood, Tyrolean oakmoss, Tonkin musk, Florentine orris butter, Virginian tobacco, Venezuelan tonka bean, Mysore sandalwood, Siamese benzoin, ambergris, Indonesian patchouli, Madagascar vanilla, vetiver, Somalian opoponax, Maltese labdanum
Scent Profile:
A perfume named Danger promises a bold, intoxicating experience—one that unfolds in layers of intrigue, seduction, and power. Upon first encounter, a rush of aldehydes bursts forth like a spark of cold fire, lending a champagne-like fizz to the fragrance, sharpening the senses before the richness unfolds. This effervescence is met with the bright zest of Calabrian bergamot, its sun-drenched citrus brilliance cutting through the opulence to provide a fleeting, golden freshness.
Yet, almost immediately, warmth begins to stir—Provencal honey drizzles like liquid gold, its deep, resinous sweetness diffusing through the opening notes, tempering their sharpness with a sensual embrace. Spices unfurl in waves: the fiery heat of Saigon cinnamon—more intense and complex than common varieties—melds with the clove-like depth of Ceylon nutmeg and the sharp bite of Zanzibar cloves, their exotic origins lending a rich, warm bite that clings to the skin.
A whisper of Chinese ginger adds a slightly camphoraceous, almost medicinal brightness, keeping the spices from becoming too heavy. The fruitiness of Spanish apricot, sun-ripened and honeyed, glows at the edges, offering a juicy contrast to the spice-laden heart. Finally, a dusting of Russian coriander, its peppery, citrus-tinged nuance, teases the senses—neither wholly warm nor cold, but balancing on the knife’s edge of mystery.
As the fragrance deepens, the florals bloom in full, unapologetic decadence. Bulgarian rose otto and Turkish rose absolute form the very heart of Danger, their rich, honeyed petals imbued with a velvety depth that lingers in the air. These are no delicate, dewy roses; instead, they exude an opulent, almost spiced wine warmth, made all the more intoxicating by the indolic lushness of Grasse jasmine absolute. In contrast, Tunisian orange blossom contributes a luminous, slightly waxen creaminess—sweet yet heady, as though the petals were drenched in nectar.
The unexpected greenness of Moroccan mint cuts through the floral intensity, offering a cool, herbaceous counterpoint, while Malabar pepper ignites the senses, its smoky, piquant warmth threading through the bouquet. The narcotic richness of Indian tuberose—white petals dripping in buttery sweetness—melds with the powdery elegance of Tuscan violet, creating a balance of floral excess and refined restraint. Peruvian heliotrope, with its almond-vanilla undertones, adds a whisper of gourmand softness, while French carnation, with its spicy clove facets, reinforces the perfume’s fiery heart. Dutch lilac, often thought of as innocent and airy, here takes on a richer, slightly musky dimension, woven into the floral tapestry with an almost hypnotic depth.
Then, the fragrance plunges into its dark, smoldering base—an animalic, resinous embrace that lingers long after the florals fade. The unmistakable raw sensuality of Abyssinian civet curls around the composition, warm and untamed, its musky depth amplified by Tonkin musk, the legendary note of unrestrained carnality. These animalic tones are soothed by Florentine orris butter, its buttery, violet-tinged smoothness melting into the composition like the richest silk.
Smoke and earth rise in tandem—the leathery, slightly bitter note of Virginian tobacco whispering against the green dampness of Tyrolean oakmoss, while wormwood lends an absinthe-like bitterness that flickers at the edges, shadowy and alluring. Omani frankincense, prized for its purity and clarity, smolders in soft trails, its resinous glow interwoven with the deep, caramelized warmth of Siamese benzoin.
The sweet, vanilla-like embrace of Venezuelan tonka bean meets the golden glow of Madagascar vanilla, creating a richness that is neither cloying nor overly sweet, but balanced by the cool, earthy depths of Indonesian patchouli and vetiver. The ambergris, aged by the sea, lends its oceanic, almost salty warmth, enhancing the sensuality of the composition. Finally, the mysterious balsamic opulence of Somalian opoponax and Maltese labdanum leave a lingering, resinous trail—dark, hypnotic, and utterly unforgettable.
Danger by Ciro is not merely a perfume; it is an experience—a scent of contrasts, weaving together spiced fire and honeyed florals, animalic warmth and resinous shadows. It is a perfume for winter’s most elegant evenings, a scent that speaks of power, seduction, and the thrill of the unknown. Its wearer is bold, magnetic, and unforgettable—wrapped in a fragrance as intoxicating as the promise of danger itself.
L'Amour de l'art, 1950:"Danger by Ciro: whoever uses this perfume runs no risk...but the partner could well be intoxicated by this excellent blend of rose, musk and civet."
Business Week, 1938;
"Our Times : Danger! Ciro, of Paris, will introduce its "Danger" perfume to the American market, using Guy T. Gibson, Inc., as distributor."
The Stage, 1938:
"Ciro's Danger, that bold, saucy perfume that changes its aroma according to the person wearing it, and comes in a cut crystal bottle."
The New Yorker, 1940:
" Ciro: Danger, a lush winter scent, and the lighter Surrender."
Fashions of the Hour, 1940:
"Ciro's Danger is a fitting challenge to every woman's loveliness. It's an audacious and exciting scent in a stunning 1-ounce bottle. $12."
Mademoiselle, 1949:
"No danger in giving Ciro's Danger perfume, everyone loves it. Now in a half-ounce sire, $7.50."
Scent Profile:
A perfume named Danger promises a bold, intoxicating experience—one that unfolds in layers of intrigue, seduction, and power. Upon first encounter, a rush of aldehydes bursts forth like a spark of cold fire, lending a champagne-like fizz to the fragrance, sharpening the senses before the richness unfolds. This effervescence is met with the bright zest of Calabrian bergamot, its sun-drenched citrus brilliance cutting through the opulence to provide a fleeting, golden freshness.
Yet, almost immediately, warmth begins to stir—Provencal honey drizzles like liquid gold, its deep, resinous sweetness diffusing through the opening notes, tempering their sharpness with a sensual embrace. Spices unfurl in waves: the fiery heat of Saigon cinnamon—more intense and complex than common varieties—melds with the clove-like depth of Ceylon nutmeg and the sharp bite of Zanzibar cloves, their exotic origins lending a rich, warm bite that clings to the skin.
A whisper of Chinese ginger adds a slightly camphoraceous, almost medicinal brightness, keeping the spices from becoming too heavy. The fruitiness of Spanish apricot, sun-ripened and honeyed, glows at the edges, offering a juicy contrast to the spice-laden heart. Finally, a dusting of Russian coriander, its peppery, citrus-tinged nuance, teases the senses—neither wholly warm nor cold, but balancing on the knife’s edge of mystery.
As the fragrance deepens, the florals bloom in full, unapologetic decadence. Bulgarian rose otto and Turkish rose absolute form the very heart of Danger, their rich, honeyed petals imbued with a velvety depth that lingers in the air. These are no delicate, dewy roses; instead, they exude an opulent, almost spiced wine warmth, made all the more intoxicating by the indolic lushness of Grasse jasmine absolute. In contrast, Tunisian orange blossom contributes a luminous, slightly waxen creaminess—sweet yet heady, as though the petals were drenched in nectar.
The unexpected greenness of Moroccan mint cuts through the floral intensity, offering a cool, herbaceous counterpoint, while Malabar pepper ignites the senses, its smoky, piquant warmth threading through the bouquet. The narcotic richness of Indian tuberose—white petals dripping in buttery sweetness—melds with the powdery elegance of Tuscan violet, creating a balance of floral excess and refined restraint. Peruvian heliotrope, with its almond-vanilla undertones, adds a whisper of gourmand softness, while French carnation, with its spicy clove facets, reinforces the perfume’s fiery heart. Dutch lilac, often thought of as innocent and airy, here takes on a richer, slightly musky dimension, woven into the floral tapestry with an almost hypnotic depth.
Then, the fragrance plunges into its dark, smoldering base—an animalic, resinous embrace that lingers long after the florals fade. The unmistakable raw sensuality of Abyssinian civet curls around the composition, warm and untamed, its musky depth amplified by Tonkin musk, the legendary note of unrestrained carnality. These animalic tones are soothed by Florentine orris butter, its buttery, violet-tinged smoothness melting into the composition like the richest silk.
Smoke and earth rise in tandem—the leathery, slightly bitter note of Virginian tobacco whispering against the green dampness of Tyrolean oakmoss, while wormwood lends an absinthe-like bitterness that flickers at the edges, shadowy and alluring. Omani frankincense, prized for its purity and clarity, smolders in soft trails, its resinous glow interwoven with the deep, caramelized warmth of Siamese benzoin.
The sweet, vanilla-like embrace of Venezuelan tonka bean meets the golden glow of Madagascar vanilla, creating a richness that is neither cloying nor overly sweet, but balanced by the cool, earthy depths of Indonesian patchouli and vetiver. The ambergris, aged by the sea, lends its oceanic, almost salty warmth, enhancing the sensuality of the composition. Finally, the mysterious balsamic opulence of Somalian opoponax and Maltese labdanum leave a lingering, resinous trail—dark, hypnotic, and utterly unforgettable.
Danger by Ciro is not merely a perfume; it is an experience—a scent of contrasts, weaving together spiced fire and honeyed florals, animalic warmth and resinous shadows. It is a perfume for winter’s most elegant evenings, a scent that speaks of power, seduction, and the thrill of the unknown. Its wearer is bold, magnetic, and unforgettable—wrapped in a fragrance as intoxicating as the promise of danger itself.
"Danger by Ciro: whoever uses this perfume runs no risk...but the partner could well be intoxicated by this excellent blend of rose, musk and civet."
Bottle:
Bottle sizes:
- 2 2/3 oz bottle stands 4" tall.
- 1 oz bottle stands 3.25" tall.
Fate of the Fragrance:
Danger was discontinued by the early 1970s, when Parfums Ciro went out of business.
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