StellaDiverF

The very first moment of JPG Scandal sprayed from the nozzle is a saccharine cloud of medicinal raspberry, typical of gourmand fruitchouli. What ensues is a nutty, tropical tart green accord over a fuzzy gourmand vanilla, which reminds me of a similar combination in Mugler Aura. Only that the vanilla is more subdued in Scandal, and a fresh, aquatic, almost laundry-like facet is more emphasised here as well, which is frankly quite nauseating to me during the first 3 hours.

I can hardly detect anything in a natural floral way. And although I can occasionally perceive the tart, juicy blood orange, it's mostly drowned in the archetypical fruitchouli mess with a scratchy praline on top. The final dry down after about 10 hours is more acceptable for me, with a honeyed patchouli similar to that in Mugler Eau de Star, and adorned with some roasted nuts sprinkled atop. But unfortunately, the squeaky clean laundry musk and irritating synthetic sweetness still haunt in the background.

The sillage is mostly moderate, while the longevity exceeds 12 hours on me.

With the overwhelming synthetic fruity vanilla sweetness and the brazen laundry musk, Scandal unfortunately places two of my least favourite olfactory elements in the center. Although I think it fits the general "sexy sweet yet fresh clean" trend dutifully, I don't find it original or exceptionally well done. Therefore, I personally would not particularly seek it out.

Dent de Lait opens on my skin with pristine almond and aldehyde. The almond here is at first slightly bitter, and mostly clean and blanched. The aldehyde doesn't appear overly metallic to my nose, but rather mineral, fizzy, even glassy, reminiscent of those in Laine de Verre. The whole is like white flaked almond in a crystal bowl.

A honeyed milkiness, and a sweet-tart rosy powder soon emerge like a swirl, slowly devouring the distinct characteristics of almond and aldehyde, until all parts of Dent de Lait merge into an abstract, clean, rosy almond milky musky powder in the dry down, and remain so until it entirely fades away.

The sillage is moderate to soft, and the longevity is around 8 hours on me.

Dent de Lait is very much in line with Lutens' style in recent years, with clean, cold, metallic/mineral aldehyde and an abstract, streamlined evolution. After reading Sophie's review on Fragrantica, the rosy almond powder does remind me of Rahat Loukoum and Louve, but Dent de Lait in relation to those two, are more like La Religieuse compared to A La Nuit and Sarrasins.

While the contrast between cold aldehyde, and suave almond and milky sweetness is genuinely intriguing to my nose, my main gripe towards Dent de Lait is its lack of depth and evolution in the dry down. Without any earthy, woody notes to keep up the intriguing dynamics of sharp and soft, the clean sweet powder appears monolithic and repetitive with time.

Regarding the somewhat strange theme, Dent de Lait only interprets it metaphorically. Personally, I don't detect any animalic or salty notes to evoke blood. Hell, I even wore it to the dentist's one day, and still can't make a literal link. And the aldehyde here is simply too crystalline; for a more violent metallic note contrasting with gourmand notes, I think L'Artisan Parfumeur Amour Nocturne and Deliria, and Lutens' own Baptême du Feu might fare better.

Therefore, if you enjoy the latest Lutens' style of clean, abstract, sweet musky powder and the glassy aldehyde, and would like a slightly more gourmand variation, I would encourage you to overlook the weird theme and give it a try. However, if you miss Lutens' previous dark, oriental style dearly, I'm afraid that Dent de Lait would probably not be able to bring any comfort.

Aura opens on my skin with an intensely sweet-tart fruity accord, along with a tropical green note. The vanilla also starts to manifest from the very beginning, providing an opaque, creamy texture to the fruity accord.

Because of this creamy texture and intense sweetness, I don't recognise it as rhubarb like in Hermès Rhubarbe Ecarlate, which is much more juicy, more sparkling and natural-smelling. In fact, the creamy fruitiness combined with the tropical, ripe greenness briefly evokes green banana in my head.

The volume of vanilla soon escalates to the max, and pushes the interesting tropical greenery aside. Combined to the potent fruity sweetness, Aura actually smells very much like typical commercial fruity tonka-vanilla gourmand fragrances on today's market. There's also an artificial, peppery smoky note mixed within, screechy like nails on the chalkboard. Meanwhile, the orange blossom seems to only bring its grape-y sweetness to the table, further enhancing the fruity vanilla gourmand impression. I can hardly notice any floral aspect.

If I concentrate my attention, there is indeed an almond-like nuttiness embedded within, maybe stemming from the Tiger Liana which is described by Daphne Bugey as having vanilla, almond and smoky facets. Occasionally, a fatty, slightly sour animalic nuance can also be perceived. But they are not daring enough to provide a meaningful contrast like patchouli in Angel or aquatic spiciness in Womanity.

After about 8 hours, the vanilla finally stops screaming, and surprisingly, the tropical green note survives it. Now, Aura is mainly a soft, ripe tropical fruitiness mixed with a delicate green camphor nuance and merest earthy, dust-like astringency, like a humid tropical jungle in a fairy tale, without any deadly, hostile creatures. This far dry down reminds me of Zoologist Bat, but Aura at this stage feels much gentler and easier to appreciate, whimsical yet adorable as well.

Aura has a heavy to modest sillage, and the longevity is almost 12 hours.

I adore Aura's mild, tropical-jungle-esque far dry down, which matches the campaign perfectly. How I wish Aura would smell like this part all along! Unfortunately, the first two thirds of Aura's development on my skin is dominated by the commercial fruity vanilla, and fails to leave a strong impression like how Angel, Alien and Womanity did to me.

Moreover, I usually find Mugler's fragrances rather artificial-smelling, which is oddly appealing in the case of the first three pillar fragrances, providing an unexpected futuristic spin to the shocking contrasts. But with the rather generic treatment of fruity vanilla in Aura, this artificial quality sadly becomes a shortcoming to my taste.

When compared to other currently available gourmand new releases, Aura is indeed decent enough. Without the purple, plum-molasses-like fruitchouli jam accord, the tropical green facet of Aura does retain a certain refreshing quality. However, I still can't help feeling disappointed. Maybe I just set the bar too high for this beloved perfume house, and it's unrealistic to expect them to deliver wildly innovative olfactory experience every single time.