Sniff Fest - Serge Lutens

SERGE LUTENS
Jardins du Palais Royal
142 Galerie de Valois
75001 Paris

With the intention of sniffing every scent in the line, I’ve been collecting Serge Lutens samples for the past couple of years. In this thread I’ll share my long-awaited joy of sniffing my way through them. Comments are very welcome. I think I have them all, now, arranged in alpha order per our database. To whit:

À la nuit | Ambre sultan | Arabie | Bas de soie | Bois de violette | Bois et fruits | Bois et musc | Bois oriental | Bornéo 1834 | Boxeuses | Cèdre | Chêne | Chergui | Chypre rouge | Clair de musc | Cuir mauresque | Daim blond | Datura noir | De profundis | Douce amère | El attarine | Encens et lavande | Féminité du bois | Fille en aiguilles | Five o'clock au gingembre | Fleurs d'oranger | Fleurs de citronnier | Fourreau noir | Fumerie turque | Gris clair... | Iris silver mist | Jeux de peau | L'Eau Froide | L'Eau Serge Lutens | L'incendiaire | L'orpheline | La fille de Berlin | La myrrhe | La Religieuse | La vierge de fer | Laine de Verre | Louve | Mandarine-mandarin | Miel de bois | Muscs Koublaï Khän | Nuit de cellophane | Rahät loukoum | Rose de Nuit | Rousse | Sa majesté la rose | Santal blanc | Santal de Mysore | Santal majuscule | Sarrasins | Serge noire | Tubéreuse criminelle | Un bois sépia | Un bois vanille | Un lys | Une voix noire | Vétiver oriental | Vitriol d'Œillet |

I have FBs of the ones in bold. The rest are decants.

Serge Lutens has been a major visionary force in fashion photography and design (Vogue, Dior, Shiseido, etc) since the 1960’s, producing iconic imagery and memorable perfumes. He launched his own perfume brand in 2000, housing some in his now-famous bell jars.


My first was À la nuit, bought blind. It’s the one that sold me on SL. Classified as a floriental, it made the finals in Yasmin’s 2013 Jasmine Sniff Fest when I was first discovering perfume genres:

“I’ll take three with mustard, also air, or anything else. What a fragrance! Moroccan, Indian and Egyptian Jasmine, green shoots, white honey, benzoin, musk, clove. I recognize everything but benzoin. What in the world does that smell like? It’s not in the kit. Okay, wiseGeek says it has a vanilla-like fragrance. So whether chemically or otherwise, this is another fragrance that contains or simulates notes from nature. A La Nuit is milder than heady Imperatrice Eugenie. It’s closer to Sarrasins in its appeal, though the clove, vanilla and honey produce a less fruity, more “I dropped my Jasmine in the pie crust dough” scent. It’s not so blatant that it actually smells like the kitchen. Far from it. Like its name, À La Nuit belongs to the night.” Two years later, I still appreciate and wear À la nuit.

Ambre Sultan. Somehow the notes simulate oud to me, if a milder one, which makes this fragrance aptly named. Oud isn’t listed among the notes, but this reminds me a bit of one of the oud oils I smelled from Agar Aura. It was called Kristana Pa. Perfect for westerners who want an oud adventure without going all the way. Another Serge Lutens quality scent.

Arabie. This one is a pungent gourmand, dates and figs mixing with cumin and tobacco—an interesting blend that, to me, smells like Christmas and an English pudding aflame. It’s a richly dark, plummy, and yummy smell.



To be continued...

Fantastic! I can't wait to read more of your journey!

Thanks, Briarthorn. Here's the next one.

Bas de Soie. The name means silk stockings. Not sure what to expect. Wow, beautiful top note that actually does bring silk to mind. Our database says it’s just hyacinth and iris. Hard to believe, though iris is strongly there. Ah, Luckyscent adds galbanum, musk and “spicy notes.” Yes, it has the heady green of galbanum, musk beneath. In the drydown hyacinth dominates the iris. I would buy this flowery green perfume if I didn’t already have and adore luscious Cabotine, which does hyacinth, iris, musk and green notes (among others) so well nothing similar can compete, IMO.

Bois_de_Violette The name means wood of violet, I imagine. First sniff is an almost candied violet with a sharp wood note. Our database says blossoms, violet leaf, cedarwood. The initial sweetness and sharpness die down quickly and we’re left with a subdued loveliness of the listed notes. Though beautiful, it’s not for me. Too sedate.

Bois et fruits Wood and fruits, like the name implies, waft up immediately, joined shortly by a note not listed in our database that to me smells like cumin or another one of those spices found in curry. Can apricot, fig, peach and plum alone create it? Perhaps. Oh, it might be the cedarwood doing this. In spite of the clearly detectable fruit, this isn’t a sweet scent. It’s sultry with a certain interesting dankness, like a woman who has a pleasant natural smell had exerted herself in the orchard then put on a dab of perfume. It’s mustily appealing. I could wear it.

Bois et musc Wood and musk. A hynoptic and complex muskiness rises immediately, created by beeswax, coconut and saffon as well as musk. It’s really intoxicating. Almost seductive. And here I thought a person needed Jasmine for that. I’m going to wear this one for a day to see if I fall in love. The same cedarwood seems to have been used in all Serge Luten’s “Bois et —“ perfumes. One more to go so let’s see. They’ve managed to instill the distinctiveness of cedar without its sharpness. Well done.

Bois oriental. The name leads me to expect a woody Opium, yet the notes in our database show no florals. Instead, there’s a hint of the fruitiness of Bois & Fruit and the musk of Bois et Musc. Add amber, honey & spice and you have Bois oriental, another warmly appealing sultry scent. It also has cedarwood. I really like what Serge Lutens has done with these. They all give a different take on beautifully musky, seductive skin and in that they remind me of a certain mademoiselle I once knew who I learned was captivated by the same dashing gentleman who’d captivated me. What lovely wars we had, battling each other with our dresses.

To be continued…

Borneo 1834. Top note is a blast of rich, exotic smell: chocolate, patchouli and spice. Then comes a bracing touch of camphor, luxurious labdanum and some flowers. Galbanum is strongly there throughout, adding greenness. This is a potent, delicious scent—the Sultanate of Brunei before the English and the Dutch.



Boxeuses Couldn’t peg this at first. It’s a kind of muddle, not a distinctive scent. Eventually I smell a mild leather note, mild fruit. The notes are leather, plum and glycyrrhiza (licorice?). All of it too indefinite for me. It improves as it dries and becomes pleasant, but this is for those who like subtlety.

Cèdre. Easy to imagine what this one might be, but on first sniff I smell civet and orange. That can’t be right. Actually, the real notes do simulate that impression at first: amber, clove, cinnamon, musk, tuberose and cedarwood. What I can’t find is the cedar. Overall, for me, this is an intriguing come-hither perfume An accomplishment. As it dries, the cedar unobtrusively appears.

I sensed this sniff-fest was going to be a dream and it is. Wonderful to experience such smells.

Chêne. The name means oak in French, so I am prepared for woods, and they are beautiful on first mellow sniff of oak and cedar and birch. Delightful. On skin, the other notes just dance—some sort of greenish plant juice, thyme, rum, OMG! Just delicious. What is coppice? Trees and shrubs cut back to stimulate growth, so it’s a younger, greener wood. Tonka and beeswax, too. I’m really gaining a new respect for beesway in this sniff fest. This is a gorgeous perfume. It has the authenticity I love in Slumberhouse and D.S. & Durga, rendered with more beauty. There will be days when I will want to have this on. I thought I was done buying perfume, but this one goes on my Maybe list.

Chergui A hot and dry Moroccan wind that blows in from the Sahara. What must this amber colored liquid smell like? My goodness. The first sniff closes my eyes and I’m not even that much into Araby, deserty perfumes. This one is special, though. It mesmerizes even moreso on skin, and my reaction is to experience it, rather than look up what’s in it, but here goes: Hay, Honey, Rose, Tobacco, a bunch of notes that lose themselves hypnotically in each other. Wonderful to smell. However, it makes me realize I found the previous one more compelling since I wanted to bathe in it.



One more for now.

Chypre Rouge For some reason, I’m prepared not to like this, picky about chypres as I am and not having found a satisfactory explanation of what “rouge” is in perfume. The liquid is a rosy color, though. On first sniff, it manages to have a faintly rosey air, without the actual presence of rose, per our notes. It’s not a chypre either, having only moss to its credit and no cistus labdanum. It does have musk. Sniffing again. Well, okay. On skin, it’s another SL beauty—a dusky charm that spell binds. Is there such a thing as a bad SL perfume? This is pine and thyme and seductive beeswax again with honey and Jasmine. Just reading the base notes is a joy: amber, moss, musk, patchouli, vanilla. That’s because by now I realize that SL knows how to do its notes. Its cedars don’t screech. It’s patchouli doesn’t make you want to pull out your censer. The notes are well-managed and authentic. What I imagine they’ll smell like when combined, they do. I wouldn’t wear Chypre Rouge, though. Whatever unpeggable thing makes me need to buy or die isn’t here. No denying the beauty, though.

To be continued…

Clair de Musc The name means clear musk and it’s right up my alley. Smells like a musky oriental. Bergamot, Iris and Neroli confirm. This is a particularly beautiful neroli, I must say. Makes me realize bergamot and neroli must be in some of my very favorite perfumes. Checking. Yep, my long-time favorite, Joop, and newer oriental loves L’Heure Bleue, Bal à Versailles, Caron Infini, Gabrielle Sabatini, Coty L’Origan, Ciara. That hyonotic list should give you an idea of what Clair de Musc smells like. It’s perhaps a tamer version of these stunners, with Iris the only floral note. But it’s absolutely beautiful, too. As for musk, it’s doing its sultry job. To me this is more a woman’s scent. Putting it on my Maybe list.

Cuir mauresque. It means Moorish leather and initially it’s like the best saddle I‘ve ever smelled. The thing is, if I focus I can detect each one of its 14 listed notes (mostly incense, sweet spice, cedar, orange and a gorgeous musk-amber-oud-cumin). Yet they coalesce into a dense, narcotic, hugely attractive and well-balanced smell. A confident woman could wear it, but this also wants to be worn by the likes of Ibn Battuta, a learned explorer/diarist fresh from the road presenting himself at a noble court. Most SL scents may be on the tame side in terms of projection and longevity, but then who wants to reek at court [well, me, but I think applying more than a dab will do the trick here.]



Daim Blond. I’ve looked forward to exploring this one. It means blond suede or pale suede. Wow, dryly beautiful on first sniff. On skin it reeks a fragrant wood of some kind. Must be in the leather note because there’s no wood listed. Instead, it has the curious combination of cardamom, pink hawthorn (a flower), apricot kernel, iris, heliotrope and musk. This makes me want to take my hat off to Serge Lutens! What a nose he has, what an imagination. I could think these notes the live-long day and not imagine this. Almost wish I’d begun my perfume self-education by familiarizing my nose with the classics—is this his idea or an interpretation of someone else’s? In any case, it’s gorgeous. Pale suede is a great name for it, too. I’m picturing this on a woman wearing a white suit. This one…



To be continued…

Datura Noir. Datura, also called Hell’s Bell’s and Devil’s Plant and such, is a toxic, hallucenogenic, poisonous trumpet-shaped flower. Thus the Noir in the name of this perfume, no doubt. It’s a favorite for suicide in some parts of the world. Hopefully small amounts won’t kill us because this is another intoxicating SL. A woman should wear this strangely intriguing floral beauty if she: 1) wants men to temporarily lose consciousness as she walks by 2) wants to make other women hate her 3) is young and wants her parents to stay up all night worrying. Otherwise, don’t wear it. Okay, I might be exaggerating, but not a whole heck of a lot. A man could wear it, too, but speaking for myself I’d stay far away from anyone who smelled that dangerous. Here are the flowers:



De Profundis. It means “out of the depths of sorrow.” To me it suggests widows weeds, incense burning on an altar. The colors are black and violet. Sure enough De Profundis contains: frankincense, violet, candied fruits (?), and chysanthemum, an autumn flower. Its dank-greenish smell does suggest a funeral—flowers and incense in a church. Not sure I’d wear it, but it’s well done.

Douce amere. It means bittersweet and combines florals with bitter notes that I found hard to identify: absinth, aniseed and tagetes. Flowers are jasmine, lily, tiarella and tiaré, the latter being that Tahitian gardenia found in the hair of ladies in Paul Gaugin’s paintings. I’m beginning to see there’s a good chance I’ll find cedar and iris in an SL floral. It also has musk. The result is, well, bitter sweet—much like Gaugin happened to be, come to think of it. He abandoned his family, took three South Seas girls as wives, gave them syphilis, and painted great. He couldn’t have been all bad, though, he liked Van Gogh. Judge not, I guess. Was Serge Lutens thinking of Gaugin when he designed this? Probably not. This is another accomplished SL, but it doesn’t really appeal.



El Attarine Not sure if the name means “the spice merchants” or “the sweetly-scented.” Since his website mentions saffron and cumin in particular, I’m guessing the former. It also mentions woods, not listed in our database. First sniff is cumin and it reigns throughout, with saffron just beneath. After a while, there’s a hint of dried fruit and, I suppose safflower, but cumin is what this scent is about. Too spicey for me.

Encens et lavande. Incense and and Lavender. Add vanilla and you’ve got it. Lavender is the strongest note and it’s not among my favorite flowers so this isn’t for me.

Féminité du bois. Feminine Wood. His website says it’s 60% cedar and it is, but it’s SL’s cedar, not the scratchy, screeching kind. No doubt the divine accompaniments help: his gorgeous beeswax/honey/musk accord, this time with cardamom; peach, plum and a number of florals; vanilla and cinnamon. This is a cedar good enough to eat. It’s too subtle for me, but it’s another good one.

Nothing for me in this group except, possibly, Datura Noir, assuming I’m ever feeling fierce enough to wear it.

Fille en aiguilles Girl in the needles, assumedly pine needles since this perfume has a beautiful rendition of them. As it dries a hint of orange comes through, a bit of vetiver, along with a mild fruity-spiciness. Per our database, Frankincense is there, though not strongly. I like the way SL harmonizes individual notes so they contribute without shouting—except the ones he wants to shout. This is pine needles on an autumn harvest day, all the air smelling gorgeous. A definite Maybe.

Five o'clock au gingembre. Five o’clock ginger? Per the website he means tea at Buckingham Palace. On my first trip to London I went there to see the changing of the guard, hoping to hear something thrilling from British military history. They played Georgie Girl. [Can’t count on anything anymore.] Let’s see what Serge did with afternoon tea. Well, it’s ginger all right, with scones and those English biscuits that we Americans call cookies. Honey, patchouli, and bergamot make the pastry. Database adds cocoa and pepper, but I don’t detect them. Well, if I sniff myself unconscious perhaps they’re there. There’s really not much to this one. Like Georgie Girl, it disappoints, but naturally I forgive the house that made Chêne.


Fleurs d’oranger. Expecting to fall in love, I sniff. Whoa! Orange blossom! Tuberose. Jasmine and Rose. Lemon zest, it says. Yes, I smell it. Also cumin for a bit of funkiness and nutmeg for sweet spice. Take me to a garden party! Love, love.

To be continued...

Fleurs de citronnier. Lemon flowers. Top note is a strongly lemon and slightly balsamic neroli, a combo that makes this lean on the male side for me. Iris and Tuberose are here and a seductive musk/honey. It smells a bit medicinal, though, at first—or like lemon furniture polish on a desktop with a vase of flowers. It does grow warmer on skin and eventually loses its furniture polish edge.

Fourreau noir. Black Sheath—for a dagger or a widow’s dress says the SL website. Interesting name. Here lavender is toned down by the almond, tonka and musk. Smoky notes add depth and mystery. This one’s a beauty. Yes, a widow could wear this, or any enigmatic gal or guy.

Fumerie turque. A turkish smoking den? If so, it’s a great-smelling one on first sniff of the beautiful burnt resin here. This is more complex than many of the other SLs. It contains the lovely beeswax/honey, also resins, jasmine, candied rose, and leather/wood/tobacco among other things. It’s deep and smoky enough for a man, but beautiful enough for a woman, assuming she just stepped from an opium den. It does have a hint of luxury, like most SL perfumes.

Gris clair… Light gray. A strong initial note of wood, made beautiful by iris and lavender, amber and tonka. You have to wait for the frankincense to rise. The SL website calls it “pollen blowing over a lifeless city…grey ashes floating through a sky of sunbeams.” Serge is into death. This is another imaginative scent.

Iris silver mist Iris Silver Mist starts out as mostly clove and iris, which do create the “iridescence” the website promises. I encountered this combo last week in a Cartier fragrance, L'Heure Convoitée, which let clove overtake all else. It threatens to do so here, but is saved by the lovely iris and labdanum, by two woods, by musk and amber, and frankincense which in its own strength tames the clove. The result smells like the name. Another intriguing SL.

Jeux de peau. Play on skin. Whatever’s in this conspires to smell like a bakery. Looking it up, Serge wants to conjure not just the smell of warm bread, but the feel of it on a cheek. Childhood memories. How he managed to simulate this uniquely French smell I can’t imagine—this is definitely a baguette, not for instance a ciabatta. Check out the many notes. Oh, what’s that technology called? Head space. It may have been that. Must have been. Either that or a great deal of experiment. How else know these unlikely notes would yield the unmistakable smell of a baguette? Is it wearable? Not for me, but it’s quite smellable.


From Gio’s Baguettes

All the scents in this group are subdued, but accomplished, and have their own appeal—well, except the bread.

To be continued ...

L'Eau Froide Cold Water. Not much insight into this composition which has vague “sweet notes” and “mineral notes” as well as “spices” and frankincense. It has a less transparent smell than most of the others, i.e., it smells less natural, more chemical. Not that the others didn’t have synthetic notes. I’m sure they did. Perhaps this has more. It does give a cold, watery and a bit metallic impression and a pleasant one, but the synthetic feel is off-putting, makes my nose feel stuffy after a while. A departure from the SLs so far.

Serge Lutens (2010) Serge Luten’s Water. This one returns us to the SL straight path of recognizable individual notes. In this case magnolia, musk, clary sage, horse mint and citruses blend to create a non-synthetic impression of a more fragrant water. Pleasant, light, but for me not really outstanding.

L'incendiaire. The arsonist. No notes listed in our database. On his website, SL says he wants “to put the fire back in perfume.” Let’s see what my nose reports. First sniff, lovely. Plenty of incense and woods in here, resins. Can I identify them? Giving up. Surely frankincense. SL’s beloved cedar? Ok, surrender to chance says the notes are geranium, carnation, woods and incense. Yes, I can smell carnation. This is another beauty in which notes blend and virtually disappear, leaving a lovely overall impression, if a light one, as it dries. I think I much prefer the definiteness of, say, Jovoy’s La Liturgie des Heures, which rocks its incense and woods, or Bohemian Black by House of Matriarch. That’s personal preference, though, and shouldn’t diminish L’incendiaire’s charm to those who prefer subtler scents. In fact, I’m liking it more as it dries and am beginning to think I could wear it when I want to feel smoky without sending the air up in flames. The carnation and geranium rise more and are beautiful.

L'orpheline. The orphan. Wow, this is more like it. Gorgeous frankincense and musk. Simple and powerful. On skin it quickly becomes subtler like most SL scents then rises to reek beautifully longer. Luckyscent says it has: aldehydes, cedar wood, fougere accord, coumarin, clouds of ambergris, pathouli, incense and cashmeran (a musky synthetic).

La Fille de Berlin The girl from Berlin. Discovered this during an early sniff fest when I was exploring rose perfumes and promptly bought an FB. This is an intense rose. Pepper and rose are the only notes listed but can they be the only ones here? Ah, Luckyscent says rose, violet, pink and black pepper and musk. Sounds more like it. Violet accounts for the darkness in the predominantly rose scent, making it accessible to men, and musk adds sultriness. This SL has no trouble projecting. It’s a sophisticated beauty. Berlin before all the bombs fell.

La myrrhe Oh gorgeous! Our database says myrrh, amber, aniseed, musk, sandalwood. Also aldehydes. My nose doesn’t want to leave my arm. There’s a distinct note of sweetness in this yummy, musky myrrhy scent, though. Surrender to Chance says it’s: myrrh, mandarine, bitter almond, woody notes, rare spices, pimento berries, sandalwood, honey, jasmine, amber and musk. Don’t know how I’ve missed this beauty so long. The mandarin and honey stand out, as does the jasmine, supported so well. Will try an all day wear.

To be continued…

Couldn’t wait to get back to Serge Lutens. Hope he lives forever, or at least as long as I do, and keeps making perfume. Intrigued, I checked out his biography on the SL website. Luckily for us, the various crucibles of his life produced a genius.

La Religieuse Means religious. I just love his top notes. Our database says the notes are jasmine, civet, musk and frankincense. Hard to go wrong with those, IMO, and he didn’t. Love the naughty civet/jasmine. To me it’s mild, though, desperately in love with jasmine and its indoles as I am, but I know I need to wait since some of his fragrances have made a stealth foray on my nose [later: on me, this stays a skin scent]. For this fragrance on the SL website he says, “Deliver us from Good!..] Wonder what inspired that? Ah, the name! Did he meet the kind of clergy who can make a misery of a childhood? [Given the result, perhaps we must quietly thank them for giving him a hard time.] Makes me remember a topless nuns protest in Paris a few years ago. Uh, but I can’t post the pic!

La vierge de fer. The Iron Maiden. Apparently another religious inspiration. And another amazing top note, this time of something metallic with lily. Iron Maiden is a perfect name, really. It’s a contradiction, flower and metal. His website says, “ The religion of iron needed a Virgin, and the Virgin, a lily.” I’m starting to get mad, after all, at who/whatever inspired these views in him. Why couldn’t he have been shaped by gentleness? [Um, ScentFan, you are letting your imagination run away with you, perhaps?] This is gorgeous. If you like Ex Idolo Thirty Three, you’ll like this too. Wait, wasn’t the Iron Maiden a torture device? Ah! Yes it was.



To be continued...

Can't wait for the continuation!

Laine de Verre. Glass wool. I expect metallic notes. Yep, smells very much like the previous perfume, except no lily. This is citric notes, aldehydes, musk and cashmeran. Not for me, but it’s an oddly nice smell though it quickly vanishes on my skin.

Louve She wolf? From the notes I think I’m going to like this one: Almond top. Jasmine, musk, rose heart. Amber, resin, vanilla base. Well, that almond top note is powerful, almost marzipan, but the heart quickly joins the almond while the base sneaks in. It’s interesting [all SLs are interesting]. It’s a kind of oriental gourmand. Not compelling for me, but pleasing to smell.

Mandarine-mandarin Something nearly smoky here, perhaps the tea. Labdanum adds sophistication and nutmeg adds spice. Not sure what dog rose smells like. It’s a wild rose. Not, apparently, known for its blasts of scent. The overall result is that of an ambery mandarine orange beside a cup of tea. Labdanum and the rose turn it into perfume. Another interesting one, stronger projection than most and probably greater longevity. The SL website says he’s going for mandarin orange peel on a hot burner. In the drydown projection remains. The luxurious burnt orange predominates. It’s quite a fragrance.

Miel de bois. Honey wood? If you like honey, this is your scent. It’s Ebony, Oak, Gaiac wood, Honey, Iris and Hawthorn per our notes. This is a beehive all right, which is what Serge was going for. Iris adds beauty. Not sure if he used Hawthorn wood, fruit or blossoms. I’m guessing the fruit because there’s a pulpy component and I think there’s also beeswax here, given SL’s love affair with it in combo with honey. I admire it. The honey dies down, joins with the woods and makes its own kind of magic. Though I don’t really want to smell like this, I’m sure many others do.

Muscs Koublaï Khän. This one should be more up my alley and, wow, it is. Ambergris and castoreum right away, rocking all sorts of aggressively musky, bitter and beautiful notes: musk, civet, ambrette, costus, caraway, and for sheer loveliness labdanum, rose and vanilla. Add patchouli and beeswax and this may be the best animalic I’ve ever smelled. Next night out I’m wearing it. It smells sexy as heck. Must immediately compare to my reigning sex bomb perf: Narcisso Rodriquez For Her. Oh, yes, that’s gorgeous too. SL’s is rawer, more blatant, muskier. I adore it. A must buy. Did the Mongol women ride those stocky horses? What do I care? If the Mongol horde’s emperor was good enough for Marco Polo and Serge, he’s good enough for me. Narcisso reeks a bit louder and longer, though, in comparison. No prob. I’ll just pour the SL on.


from Wikipedia: Kublai gives financial support to the Polo family

Nuit de cellophane. What do we have here? Lots of florals I like as well as fruity and woody and green notes, honey and musk. Sounds pretty. And it is. But, for the second time, my nose doesn’t like the synthetics after a while. It refuses to hang around for the drydown.

To be continued…

Rahät loukoum In Turkish it means Caress the palate, per the SL website. First thought was those gummy Turkish candies and that’s the smell: Marzipan, honey, vanilla. On skin the marzipan softens and the rose, cherry and musk rise. It’s a wonderful gourmand. I don’t often eat Turkish candies so I can’t report on the scent’s authenticity. If you like gourmand’s, this is a lovely, wearable one.

Rose de Nuit Rose of the night. This one has already entranced me. It’s a deeply beautiful, hypnotic and musky tea rose. The notes per our database are: bergamot, oakmoss, honey, leather, rose. The SL website says there’s a touch of apricot. If so, it’s faint. Sometimes I go to bed with Rose de Nuit on the back of my hands so it’s the last thing I smell when I close my eyes and the first when I open them. In a way it’s Muscs Koublaï Khän’s far more civilized and prettier cousin. Makes sense Serge would design them both since when it comes to musk there’s a time for marauding as well as a time for dreams.


by Railheel

Rousse. The website says we should imagine a fiery head of hair…a hint of cinnamon on the skin. Rousse delivers that except, for me, the spice—cinnamon & nutmeg—is more than a hint. Though I enjoy the amber, mandarin and cedar, the spice makes me think of a mulled cider. Interesting, but I don’t really want to wear it. Later: the spice becomes manageable after a while.

Sa majesté la rose Can’t remember if I’ve tried this before. I’m a bit hesitant because of the clove which, if too strong, will ruin things for me. Here goes. Oh! Beautiful! A glorious opening. It’s a gorgeous Damasc rose. Not the Turkish one, I don’t think, which is on the green side. Well, maybe it is a Turkish Damascene rather than the Bulgarian. Checking. The website says he used both, as well as a Moroccan. This liquid fabulosity is halfway between Perfumery Workshop’s incomparable Tea Rose and Frederik Malle’s equally unsurpassed and quite green Une Rose. Both are realistic roses and so is this. I must have missed it in my Rose Sniff Fest. Nope, it was there. It didn’t make the finals because it vanished on my skin in comparison to Rose de Nuit. Hah! Faulty reasoning. Magical scents like this are hard to come by. I think I no longer care if they have to be reapplied. This is a fresher, brighter rose than Rose de Nuit. It’s for the daytime, not the night. I’ll wear Majeste on one hand tonight and Rose de Nuit on the other. By the morning I’ll know.

To be continued…

Santal blanc White sandalwood. On first sniff, a peppery, woody affair. On skin it blossoms from captivating notes: benzoin, orris, balsam, but particularly an unexpectedly seductive fenugreek as well as balsam, jasmine, musk, rose sandalwood and cinnamon. I could sniff this all day. It’s a musky sandalwood delight, starring (of all things) fenugreek.

Santal de Mysore. Mysore Sandalwood is from sandalwood trees in Mysore, India. Many consider it the best. Unfortunately these trees are now endangered and Eden Botanicals gives us a strong lecture about the situation. Here's a pic from Wikipedia by Thamizhpparithi Maari which shows the replenishment effort.



I research this. Shucks. In April, police in Chittoor shot 20 smugglers dead. Wow, prior to that, 200 smugglers attacked the police! Feeling duly guilty, I sniff my sample. Just half a ml, mind you. I’m doing my bit. Shucks, it’s stunning. Wouldn’t you know it? It’s even better than Santal Blanc. But can I get over my guilt? Even if I did, it comes in one of those $310 bell jars. Wouldn’t you know it? For any guilt-free, unlimited-purse sandalwood lovers reading this who need FBs of scents they prize, I can recommend sampling, even a blind buy of this startling beauty. It’s a bit spicey but not horrifically so, has caraway, storax and benzoin. The result takes my breath away.

Santal majuscule. Sandalwood with a capital letter. This sandalwood has rose, cocoa, tonka. Smells exactly like these notes. It’s a creamy chocolate rose. Very well done, harmonious, good projection. Just not my thing.

To be continued…

Sarrasins. I assume the name is French for Saracens, rather than the English name of a portculis or herse. SL’s website says he was going for a jasmine dark as night. Great. Jasmine is my favorite note. So far so good. However, I do think I remember not falling in love with Sarrasins. Time to figure out why. The notes are blossom, carnation & jasmine in the heart, musk in the base. Normally I like them all. On first sniff, musk predominates. I almost want to say civet’s there too or another animalic. Swiftly Jasmines comes in strongly, hand in hand with the musk. Carnation comes, too, though not exactly in a way I’d call beautiful. Instead of more sniffing, my nose wants to protect itself. The problem must be in those mysterious “blossoms” which may be synthetic. By the time I put this on skin, my nose is very unhappy. It has nothing to do with the scent itself, but the need for air. I’m struggling for breath. Must be allergic to something. Now I know why Sarrasins isn’t for me.

Disabled nose forces pause until tomorrow.

To be continued…

Serge noire. His website points out serge is also the name of a fabric, so the name means black serge. My nose has become wary when his list of notes contains generics rather than specifics. With Sarrasins it was “blossoms.” This one has “resins” and “black woods” along with amber, clove, patchouli, cinnamon and cistus. Yep, there’s a slight stuffiness here, but so far it’s tolerable. Otherwise, the scent is a beautiful woody resinous thing enhanced by a touch of sweet spice then made luxurious by amber and cistus.

Tubéreuse criminelle. Most of the notes I normally like, but Hyacinth can go either way for me, as can Tuberose. I’m excited to see what he did with them. Beautiful! A smoky Tuberose. Hyacinth contributes its vegetal dank charm and brings out the dark side of Tuberose. The other notes fabulously support this duo. An offbeat, but brilliant composition. Not sure he needed the clove, which almost interferes as it rises, but then I’m no perfumer. Hopefully, it will take a seat among the others and settle down. Later: it does.

Un bois sépia. A sepia wood. From the notes I expect to either love or hate this. It’s woods with vetiver and opoponax (resmelling my essential oil; it’s that slightly camphorous resin that often stands in for amber). Okay, read to sniff. Well, he pulled it off. I love the green camporousness with these woods: patchouli, sandalwood, cypress. Sandalwood lends enough sweetness that it works. How does he think of these things?

Un bois vanille. A vanilla wood. Sounds boring, but I suspect it’s not, given the perfs that precede it. Well, interesting! Trying to identify the distinctive top note. I suspect it’s Gaiac wood and bitter almond—oh, and the caramelized benzoin. It has a fresh, slightly medicinal smell, a bit like eucalyptus mellowed by beeswax, coconut milk, sandalwood and vanilla. Glycyrrhiza is there but I don’t get much licorice. On skin, the coconut and vanilla stand out against the woods in near-gourmand fashion.

Un lys. A lily. This lily, musk, vanilla scent smells like its simple, realistic notes. If you like them individually, you’ll like them together here. If it were Jasmine, musk and vanilla I’d probably be in love.

Une voix noire. A black voice. SL’s website says it should bring to mind jazz, drink and the night, and a troubling line of white, gardenia-scented smoke. Odd description. It actually manages to smell like a jazz club, though! The notes are gardenia, rum and tobacco, each beautifully done. Think 1930’s. For me, it brings to mind a true story I heard about a tryst between two famous people in burlesque. That was long ago when such things weren’t publicly discussed; nowadays trysts are televised and tweeted.


Kaitlyn and Nick, The Bachelorette

Vétiver oriental. From the notes it sounds chypreish. Can’t anticipate it really, so I’ll just smell. Nice. A distinct green chypre (vetiver & plant juice/labdanum/oakmoss/musk) rather than an oriental to me with pleasant enhancements—a hint of chocolate, woods and amber/iris. It’s really, really lovely. I’d wear it.

Vitriol d’Œillet Cruel Carnation? The final SL happens to be one I already own and love. It’s a carnation scent that reminds me of the one my mother wore (Roger & Gallet’s Blue Carnation), but this is softer. At some point the gods of perfume decided a carnation scent needs pepper. SL added clove and gillyflower. The result, for me, is magical. If you love carnation, give it a try.

Nombre Noir. Black Number. Can’t conclude a Serge Lutens sniff fest without the one he designed in ’82 when he worked for Shiseido. (Forgot to mention he also designed Feminite du Bois in partnership with Shiseido). The notes In Nombre Noir imply it’s a classic oriental. Whoa, gorgeous! Swoon inducing. It’s a green smelling chypre, due to marjoram, vetiver and lily of the valley, but typical of the 80’s sillage monsters, it has a total of 20 notes which hold their own in creating this many-flowered splendor. It’s extravagant, luxurious, yet elegant because of the green. OMG! Gotta have it. [There, there don’t cry, purse.]

CONCLUSION

This sniff fest has been a delight. IMO, Serge Lutens is a genius, as many others have concluded. His imagination has produced the original and the unusual (in my sniffing experience)— yet he is able to focus on the simplest of notes and create art. With a few outstanding exceptions, his scents tend not to be sillage monsters and I suspect that’s due to a high percent of natural ingredients. No prob. I’ll just slosh them on or reapply. I love that he opened shop in the Palais Royal, a location so pivotal to French history. Cardinal Richelieu built it in 1629 and bequeathed it to the crown. During the Belle Epoque, it housed cafes and theaters and apartments. Sidonie Colette, the first author to inspire me, ate and danced and lived there for a time. I set a fashion show there in a novel I’m just completing and put a dramatic scene in the gardens. Here’s a photo of SL there.



Now to list my faves as of this moment. In alpha order, they are:

A la Nuit
Chêne
Clair et Musc
Fleurs d’oranger
La Fille de Berlin
La myrrhe
Muscs Koublaï Khän
Nombre Noir
Rose de Nuit
Sa Majeste la Rose
Santal de Mysore
Vetiver Oriental
Vitriol d’Œillet

Thank you for them, Serge Lutens. A nod to his long-time collaborator, Christopher Sheldrake. Next purchase? Muscs Koublaï Khän.

Thanks, Briarthorn. Hope you enjoyed it. For me it was days of pleasure.

Monsieur Serge´s relatively new offering named "Tuberose Criminelle" found ist way into my perfume wardrobe. After the rather strange (but nonetheless fitting) opening with evergreen the tuberose shows its beautiful face. On me I find this scent pretty tame and non-challenging. Pleasantly floral in total.

Really enjoyed his Tubéreuse criminelle. I find the opening pleasantly quirky, too, probably for how he's used the storax and clove. I think it's Hyacinth that's elevating the florals.

ALL

I just stopped myself from buying an unused vintage
Shiseido Nombre Noir.
Can’t yet tell if it was a good or bad decision,
or if this yearning will increase or diminish.
All I know is I am haunted
by Serge Lutens perfumes.
I dream of them,
wander about wanting them.
I’m obsessed,
but there are worse things in this world --
like never having smelled one;
what a tragedy!
I want a new house, now,
with its own perfume room
not just for
Serge Lutens's
Shiseido Nombre Noir.
I want them all.

There are spells in these fragrances --
a personality
memories
a unique view of the world
shared
in alchemy
in devilry
in conjury
and enchantment.
With my nose I
give obeisance
and want them all.

Whot Roe Shaggy...

Are we talking the Brontes? Translate for us, Briarthorn.

WOW, what a read it was! I am myself on a SL journey, still have about one half to go. Most impressed so far by: Cuir Mauresque, 5 o'clock, Borneo, Fumerie, Un Bois Vanille and Chene. Sarrasins was a bit disappointing, expected more animalics:))