Scented Recollection: Cult Classics and Candace Hilligoss
The star of "Carnival of Souls" and her two favorite fragrances
“I don’t remember…”
I had to ask my husband as I wrote this post: when did we first see Carnival of Souls? As he recalls, it was part of a double feature at the Two Boots Pioneer Theater, sometime around 2005 or 2006. We’ve watched a lot of classic horror together—it’s primarily his interest, but I do enjoy most of the films we see, although I often forget them quickly. One exception that worked its way deep into my memory and under my skin: Carnival of Souls (directed by Herk Harvey, 1962).
The movie opens with a tragic automobile accident and a lone survivor, Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss, who appears in virtually every scene of the film), staggering out of the river with no recollection of what’s just occurred.
The tightly drawn parameters of Carnival of Souls—its low budget, its small cast, its short run time (the “director’s cut” is all of 84 minutes), a plot whose main action unfolds over just a few days—resulted in a tensely distilled movie told from its female lead’s point of view. As Mary attempts to put the trauma of the accident behind her by relocating to another city and finding new work (she’s a classically trained organist), she starts to suffer from strange visions, unexplainable sensory experiences, a sense of slippage between states of being.
This is a psychological horror movie, but still a horror movie, so jump scares and creepy music ensue, of course. And Mary finds herself irresistibly drawn to an abandoned, half-ruined resort hotel and amusement park located on the shores of a nearby lake, where the shadows are even darker and more disorienting…
On later viewings of Carnival of Souls, I still reacted to the movie’s classic elements of fright, but now that I knew what to expect, I was struck even more by the dynamic between Mary and all the male characters she encounters. Each of them takes it upon himself to tell her how she should be playing her music, choosing her companions (or not), expressing her own emotions.
The organ manufacturer: "Mary, it takes more than intellect to be a musician. Put your soul into it a little, okay?”
The boarding-house neighbor: "You're gonna need me in the evening, too. You just don't know it yet.”
The psychiatrist: “Hysteria won’t solve anything. Now control yourself.”
The minister: “You can not live in isolation from the human race, you know.”
Suffice to say, this movie did indeed “haunt me” and “burn itself into my mind.” When, years later, I received an unexpected direct message via Instagram, I recognized the sender’s name immediately: it was the actress Candace Hilligoss, who was in the New York City area for a brief stay.
I was working at the Brooklyn Museum, which was currently the venue for the exhibition Christian Dior: Designer of Dreams, and I’d been offering monthly ticketed “scent tours” of the show—and the online listings for those tours had caught her eye. Naturally, I replied right away. Due to schedule conflicts, we weren’t able to connect during her few days on the East Coast, but we agreed to stay in touch.
Later that year, Candace traveled back to the NYC metro area for another family visit, and we set a date to meet at the Museum. She, one of her daughters, and I walked through the new exhibition Thierry Mugler: Couturissime, where she appreciated the craft and theatricality of Mugler’s work, including a few horror-adjacent details like the coffin-shaped purse above. (“So Carnival!” exclaimed her daughter.)
At one point, Candace struck a pose in front of a shimmery mirrored wall in a dimly lit gallery, reminding me of some moments filmed in the deserted funhouse in Carnival of Souls.
After our time in the galleries, we sat and had a cup of coffee together and chatted a bit about her career and the making of her most famous film.
I’ve been following Candace’s doings ever since our meeting, and recently I sent her a question I forgot to ask that day: What perfume would she have been wearing during the filming of Carnival of Souls? (I like to know this kind of detail.)
“During that time I wore Chanel No. 5,” she told me. “I also remember in those days you could buy the matching soap and bath powder.”
Now I can imagine Candace, as Mary Henry, sprinkling a bit of No. 5 bath powder or bath oil into her boarding-house tub.
Would the character of Mary have worn a spritz of the Eau de Toilette (1952, Henri Robert) as a finishing touch to her wardrobe of sheath dresses, twin-sets with pleated shirts, shirt-dresses and pearls, and silk scarves worn over her impeccably coiffed hair? Or maybe she would have dabbed on a drop of the full-strength Parfum (1921, Ernest Beaux) for evening wear.
And then, Candace says: “A couple years later I discovered Diorissimo and since Lily of the Valley is my favorite flower, I loved it.”
Diorissimo, created by perfumer Edmond Roudnitska and launched in 1956, is the reference lily of the valley fragrance for many perfumers. It’s a sheer and radiant evocation of muguet and fresh green leaves, with supporting notes of jasmine, sandalwood, and civet. It’s ladylike and elegant, perfectly polished but never stuffy or condescending.
Candace’s long affection for Diorissimo was the reason she’d initially messaged me, hoping to attend a Dior scent tour. I love these moments when scent connects people who wouldn’t otherwise have crossed paths.
I’d like to picture Carnival’s Mary Henry, in some alternate timeline, wrapped in a soft cloud of Diorissimo as she moves on to her next employment as an organist, to a new life in another town, perhaps to a home of her own, with space for peaceful solitude as well as any other pleasures she might seek.
Dior still offers Diorissimo Eau de Parfum, a later interpretation of the classic, at the Dior website (for much less money than you’d pay for some mediocre new “niche” fragrance). One of Candace’s daughters recently brought back a fresh bottle of Diorissimo from La Galerie Dior in Paris — “So now I have it back in my possession, guarding it carefully,” Candace says.
I think it must suit her well.
In recent years, Candace’s performance in Carnival of Souls has been sampled for a Lana del Rey song and a Drake video, and the movie itself was a possible influence on the work of director David Lynch. If you’d like to follow Candace to learn more (and browse her selection of signed photos and books!), please head to CandaceHilligoss.com. She’s also on Instagram: @candacehilligoss. As for more recently released fragrances that she loves…Carmina by Creed is a current favorite!
And if you’ve never seen Carnival of Souls, you should be able to find it easily — it’s streaming on various free sites. You’re in for an unforgettable treat. Tell Mary Henry I sent you.