Serge Lutens Arabie

Could this be one of the good Uncle's most polarising fragrances (let's not even talk about Miel de Bois)? Arabie was the first Lutens perfume I ever tried, way back in the 'misty times' of 2007. It set the tone for what I initially thought applied to all the Lutens perfumes - that oft-talked about syrupy, stewed fruit accord. Arabie has it in spades, but over time, as I've got to know and love the Lutens line, I realise that in actual fact not that many Lutens really have that accord. At least, I don't think so.

To this day, I still don't know if I like Arabie. It is strong, forceful, long-lasting and very distinctive. I get the feeling that it is likely to wear someone rather than the other way round. Yet, in a strange way, I do like it. I think once the initial stewed fruit and spicy blast calms (which admittedly is a while) it becomes a very complex and nuanced perfume. Through all the spice and fruit is essentially what I perceive as a fruity leather fragrance, although this accord is not mentioned and I could be wrong. I suppose the intense spiciness of the fragrance just makes me think of leather. I think for most people, this could be a love-it-or-hate-it fragrance.

Like some of Lutens intense and challenging perfumes, I don't think I could wear Arabie frequently, but I do like trying it on occasion. One thing is for sure - it takes no prisoners.

Serge Lutens Chergui

Oh dear, I wasn't expecting this. I used to like Chergui. A lot. I haven't worn it for some time now, but trying it again today, it came across cloying, over-sweet and just a bit nauseating. It's always been a strong perfume on me, like most Lutens, which aren't known for their light, fleeting sheerness. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that today was quite overcast, humid and rainy at times, which just seemed to amplify all that Chergui-ness, like a suffocating and scratchy blanket.

For some reason, every time I smelled Chergui today, I wished I had sprayed on Costamor's Tabacca instead, which on my skin manages to seem dry yet sweet at the same time, and thus very well balanced.

A Serge Saturday

Following on from Borneo 1834 on Friday, today I thought I'd remain in a Lutens mood and wear Amber Sultan by Serge Lutens.

I don't have much to say about Ambre Sultan that I haven't said before. It is still my favourite amber perfume, what I call my gold standard. Having said that, the recent Opus VI by Amouage is quickly moving up the rankings! What I especially like about Ambre Sultan is that it is not a sweet and powdery amber, my least favourite. Rather, it is herbal and dry, and complex too - continually evolving. The herby opening can be quite weedy at times, in the literal sense of the smell of weeds, but I love Lutens openings with a twist, so this doesn't put me off.

I don't find Ambre Sultan a particularly cozy and comforting amber. I find that it is easy to wear in all seasons, without ever becoming cloying, which some of the sweeter ambers are prone to doing in warmer weather, in my opinion.

Another great perfume by Serge Lutens.

Scent of the day - Serge Lutens Borneo 1834

Today was chilly and drizzly in England, or at least where I am. I don't know what it is about weather and perfume, but for some reason cooler, damp days often make me want to wear patchouli perfumes. I wouldn't say that patchouli is necessarily a comforting, cozy note. In fact, patchouli can often be quite a challenging note. However, Borneo 1834 from Serge Lutens manages to make patchouli cozy in my opinion, without sacrificing any of the 'integrity' of the characteristic patchouli accords that patch fans know and love.

I wrote about Borneo 1834 a long time ago, in April 2010, see my review here. In many ways, my opinion of the fragrance hasn't changed. It still starts with those cocoa and camphor notes, then sweetens ever so slightly, then slowly seeps into a gorgeous, rich and smooth woody patchouli dry down, smelling plush and polished. I emphasise the words plush and polished, because to me Borneo does evoke the smell, feel and even 'vision', albeit olfactorily, of a room filled with old, polished furniture or panels. And perhaps that is where the comfort of this scent arises - to me being in an old room filled with beautiful, polished furniture, is comforting.

I've worn Borneo a lot over the last two years, and every time I wear it, I am struck by what a brilliant perfume it is. It really is. To my mind it is one of the masterpieces in the Lutens line and one of the best patchouli fragrances out there. Even if you aren't a massive fan of patchouli, I would recommend that one at least tries it. You may be pleasantly surprised.

Serge Lutens Rose de Nuit

I think folks might be getting a little tired of my Serge Lutens week. I'm almost finished, I promise. Rose de Nuit is the last one. 

I am a great fan of rose fragrances. I've tried a good few and Rose de Nuit is one that I've wanted to sample for a long time. One of my all-time favourite rose perfumes is Une Rose by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle. It is dark, fleshy, complex, rich, sexy and just plain brilliant. It's perhaps no surprise that Rose de Nuit ticks a lot of boxes for me too. Like Une Rose it is so much more than simply a rose fragrance. I love the start, am not so sure about the middle and am sucked in by the dry down. Rose de Nuit, like Une Rose, shares a warmth, complexity and sophistication, hinting at roses, but in a very roundabout way. It starts quite fresh and rosy, then quickly morphs into something altogether darker, becoming woodier, suffused with a sweetish rose note. I love this phase. 

In the heart it smells a bit more leathery, with a note slightly like varnish and lacquer. I find this phase ever so slightly synthetic. In the dry down Rose de Nuit becomes much earthier and fleshy, hinting at carnal pleasure. It is not particularly dry on my skin, which other writers have suggested and at this point it reminds me most of Une Rose, when it reveals a fleshy, animalic and almost wine-like note. It is a stunning perfume.

Like Santal de Mysore, which I wrote about a few days ago, it is one of those perfumes that elicited a 'wow' moment for me, which is a good sign. As with Santal de Mysore, I tried a wax sample of Rose de Nuit a couple of years ago and again, it bears very little resemblance to the actual perfume, except for the extreme dry down phase.

Although I love Rose de Nuit, I still think it comes a very close second to Une Rose, which is still my favourite rose fragrance of all!

Image credit - http://www.sniffapaloozamagazine.com/

Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle

I was in Fenwicks, one of my local department stores yesterday, when lo and behold, on the shelf I saw Serge Luten's Tubereuse Criminelle. I knew that this is the time of year when one of the good uncle's non-export perfumes is made available as a limited edition to the general public outside of Paris, but I didn't realise that this year is the turn of this wonder.

Now, I should mention upfront that I struggle with Tuberose as a note. I find it very often to be too feminine and floral for me to pull off successfully and I feel self conscious. Nevertheless, I decided to take a risk at lunchtime, knowing full well that I had to return to the office, not an environment for sillage-crazy tuberose. Well, I was amazed. The opening of Tubereuse Criminelle astounded me. I can honestly say that I have never smelled anything like it. I was not prepared for the pungent, intense shock of a note that smells so strongly medicinal. To me this note smells like TCP, an antiseptic that I knew from my childhood. Others have described the opening as smelling like diesel, gasoline, winter green, Deep Heat and camphor. I can understand how this perfume could evoke all those aromas. 

Tubereuse Criminelle smells quite sinister to start with. Just underneath that medicinal note is something fleshy,almost decaying. It is almost the perfume equivalent of minty mouth freshener just, barely just, covering up the smell of bad breath. Of course, I am not suggesting for a moment that this is what Tubereuse Criminelle actually smells like. If this seems gross, its not. It's brilliant, possibly the most compelling opening I've ever experienced in a perfume,.

The tuberose gradually comes to the fore, tinged with orange blossom, but it never gets too sweet, luscious and overwhelming. It stays quite spicy and dry, probably from the cloves and what I think might be a touch of coriander. Luckily for me Tubereuse Criminelle never becomes too feminine and I didn't become self conscious about wearing it.

This is a slightly abstract concept of tuberose, one that I am enchanted with, rendered almost, but not quite, sexless, which is saying a lot when tuberose is involved. If there is another tuberose perfume that does this for me too, it is Nuit de Tuberose, by L'Artisan.

As much as I am blown away by the underlying beauty and subtlety of Tuberose Criminelle, I am most spellbound by its ugly duckling opening. I would happily buy a bottle just for that.

Image credit - http://1.bp.blogspot.com/ and/or Perfume Shrine

Serge Lutens Encens et Lavande

I'm on a bit of a Lutens bender, as you may have gathered, as I work my way through some of the non-export samples I got from The Perfumed Court recently.

Encens et Lavande was the one I was most doubtful I would like. It's a bit strange, because a few years ago I used to love the smell of lavender, and in fact I still do - the front path of our garden is lined with lavender that blooms magnificently in summer, scenting the air when it is hot and attracting lots of bees and bumblebees. I suppose for me the reason why lavender can be a bit off-putting in perfume (aside from the cliched old-granny associations) is that it can overpower and dominate, at the expense of other notes.

When I ordered this one, I was very interested in finding out how it compares to Gris Clair, another lavender perfume in Lutens' lineup and, funnily enough, the only full bottle in his line that I happen to own. Although I do like Gris Clair, the lavender note in it can become a bit overbearing and cloying at times, particularly in warmer weather. It is also a curious juxtaposition of warm and cold, sweet and herbal. Gris Clair is an austere scent, but in my opinion very well done. I can understand how it does have its detractors though.

The opening of Encens et Lavande left me feeling a bit dismayed. The lavender is strong, pungent and almost oily. It really does smell like you have just mangled the flowers and stems, letting the essential oil drip into a bottle, unadulterated. In a way, I do admire this, and is typical of Lutens ability to shock or jolt the senses, particularly in an opening. Just as I thought this was going to be a no-no for me, the incense seeps through into the composition, tempering the lavender and created a wonderful yin and yang of the resinous, pungent lavender, and a warmer, woodier, yet smoky incense. I haven't seen a lot of notes listed, but two additional ones mentioned are amber and clary sage. As the fragrance moves into its heart and dry down, the amber manages to sweeten the composition, but not too much, still allowing the more resinous incense and lavender to play against each other, while the sage adds a slight herbalness that manages to come across as aromatic rather than too green.

I read a review somewhere that said Gris Clair moves from light to dark, while Encens et Lavande does the opposite and ends up as a fairly warm and comforting scent. I would concur with the opinion. I wouldn't ever say that it ends up warm and fluffy, but it feels like one is enveloped in a warm, snug blanket, sat in front of a subsiding fire in winter, with a smell of slightly sweet herbs mingling with smoke from glowing embers , although I must stress that this is not really a smoky fragrance. 

Although I could and would wear this in warmer weather, I can really see myself wearing this mainly in the cooler months and I can't wait to try this over Christmas. It's a bit weird, but actually I would say this one veers towards masculine, if only because lavender is so often used in men's fragrances (which makes me wonder why lavender is then so often thought of as an old lady smell?).  Another winner from Lutens and I am so glad I've managed to sample this excellent perfume.

Image credit - http://fimgs.net/images/perfume/

Serge Lutens Santal de Mysore

It was with great glee that I recently opened one of my sample packages from The Perfumed Court and saw the little vial of Santal de Mysore. I was quite taken with the intensity of the appearance of the juice itself, which in a certain light is jewel-like and looks like it carries a punch, a bit like others in Lutens' stable, such as Fumerie Turque, Chergui, Ambre Sultan, etc. 

I've seen pictures of Santal de Mysore packaged in the standard-issue tall bottle, common to the export range and saw it listed on Luckyscent's website, so it leads me to believe that this has been available as a limited edition export at some point. Well, I certainly have never seen it here in the UK, but that's not to say it hasn't. In any event, the bell jar pictured above is so beautiful that I preferred to present this picture instead.

The opening of Santal de Mysore is a little strange. There is quite a hefty dose of sandalwood, but it is mingled with certain notes that are decidedly gourmand. I immediately got the connection with another, more recent Lutens creation, Jeux de Peau. I'm not saying the opening is identical, far from it. While Jeax de Peau smells very bread-and-pastry like, Mysore     is a more restrained version. Many reviews I've read of Mysore describe it as smelling like a sandalwood and curry pudding, or something to that effect. While cumin is listed in the notes, I honestly do not get any curry association with this perfume. I do get a gourmand feel to start, with a little spice, yes. But curry? No. 

The middle phase of Mysore is possibly my favourite part, when I detect a musky skin scent, ever so slightly dirty/sexy, that reminds me a little of Kurkdjian's Absolue Pour le Soir, mixed with a woody sandalwood and what I thought was a gorgeous incense note cutting through. The notes don't mention incense, but list styrax and benzoin, which I think might be lending this effect. 

In the dry down the perfume sweetens slightly and becomes milder, when I can most identify with the progression from Mysore to Santal Blanc to Jeux de Peau. Although these three perfumes were all released at very different times, they all share some lineage. Santal de Mysore is a perfume that has marvelous presence and longevity. I dabbed it from a vial and it wears very well that way, when it is warm and intimate, but still full of character. I suspect spraying from a bottle it could produce quite a lot of sillage. 

I haven't tried many Lutens non-exports, but Santal de Mysore is one of those perfumes that to me I almost knew from first spray I was going to like. I love it when I experience that thought-burst of "wow, this is amazing" and my senses go zing! That's a great sign for me that I have a new perfume love.

Incidentally, a few years ago I ordered the wax samples of the non-exports and I have to say that they give you very little of the true feel and smell of the actual perfume. After I had a shower, the faint smell left was closest to what the wax sample smelled like. I think Santal de Mysore would work equally well on man or woman.

Image credit - http://fimgs.net/images/perfume/

Time out

I have a couple of days off this week (Today and Friday) and it couldn't have come sooner. At the risk of moaning, it's been one of those working weeks that shouldn't have happened, at least for me! I won't bore you with the detail, suffice to say that it involved an irate client, a neurotic (possibly psychopathic) bookkeeper and me. Hoorah! In those sort of awkward circumstances I almost wish that I was out picking apples or something. Or being a monk  holed away in an abbey obeying a vow of silence. Oh the melodrama!

I also didn't wear any perfume today, which always leaves me feeling ever so slightly out of sorts, but I did get a few samples from one of my local department stores. Annick Goutal's Duel, Ancens Flamboyant (Yes, Josephine!) and Ambre Fetiche as well as Uncle Serge's L'Eau. Yes, that one... I've tried all of these a number of times, but for some reason when I see samples lying around for the taking, like a moth to a flame I grab! Duel never fails to baffle me. It smells so weird, and yet compelling. I never quite know if I like it or not, but funnily enough, I think it is literally the only perfume that has ever got me a viscerally favourable comment from a lady. Bizarre.

I mentioned some holiday ideas a couple of days ago. I'm increasingly gravitating towards Mallorca, particularly the north-west of the island. If I can only find a favourable deal that doesn't involve staying next to lager louts or a fish and chip shop, we'll be off in a flash!

Serge Lutens Miel de Bois

Ah, Miel de Bois. If ever there was a divisive fragrance from Uncle Serge, this is it. If you bother to read the reviews, you will generally find it is a case of love-it-or-hate-it, with very little middle ground. The three principal reviews I have read come from Now Smell This, Bois de Jasmine and Perfume Smellin Things, and all three trod more of a middle ground, stating that this is a perfume that is initially repelling, but that with perseverance you can grow to love it. I don't give up easily, so have tried Miel de Bois on and off for a few year now. I have to say that I am still in the 'with perseverance' camp!

No review can truly prepare you for Miel de Bois, I think. The initial assault upon the senses is astonishing. The error I made the first time I tried it was to use five sprays. Within ten minutes I stank to high heaven and had christened this rather as Miel de Pong. The notes include honey, hawthorn, ebony gaiac and oak woods, beeswax, iris and acquilaria, which as I take it is oud. On skin, Miel de Bois' opening translates to a massive blast of sweet, strong honey and intense, almost charred woods. It is pungent and smoky and fills the nostrils with almost palpable waves of honeyed fumes. The honey note is so forceful that it does come across as quite pissy, or urinous. It really does.

Miel de Bois has astonishing longevity on my skin. I've never encountered a Lutens that is a wilting flower; they all last very well on me, but this one is beyond robust. For example, I sprayed this on at about 8.30 this morning and it is now 2pm as I type, and Miel de Bois still smells almost as strong as if I sprayed it 10 minutes ago. And that's the issue I have with it. It's not the smell itself that is so offputting to me, but rather how strong and persistent it is, with a massive sillage. Reviews suggest that after the first 20 minutes this is mostly a skin scent, but not for me. I can still smell it intensely five hours later, wafting up clearly and loudly, and I only sprayed once. Yes, that is all you need and you're set for a long day's wear.

While I find Miel de Bois quite repulsive in some ways, I keep on returning to it in the hope that one day I'll 'get it'. Whatever one thinks of it, you can't say that this is a boring fragrance, or not challenging. It has these in spades. When I think of Lutens' most distinctive perfume (and I have to admit that there are still quite a few non-exports I haven't tried) I think of Miel de Bois. There is nothing else remotely like it. It is an extremely dark, woody and honeyed fragrance. The honey is prominent on me from start to dry down, whenever that happens to take place (I've never reached, always having had to wash it off eventually, hours and hours later). I can't distinguish between the different woods and the iris is lost on me. The oud makes sense, combined with the strong honey and beeswax. For originality and balls, I give it a big thumbs up. But I really struggle to wear it - it is one of the few perfumes that I feel wears me instead.

I'll leave you with a phrase from a review by Tom from Perfume Smellin Things, that has always stuck in my mind and amused me no end at the time I read it. He describes the opening of Miel de Bois as "killer bees on crack". That sums it up very aptly for me!

Image credit - http://ecx.images-amazon.com/

Serge Lutens - Cuir Mauresque

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that Cuir Mauresque would be making its merry way to our shores (the UK that is; I assume it will reach the US as well) towards the end of this year. Well, the good news is that it is here already, and I've been sampling it on and off over the last week. Cuir Mauresque is usually a Paris-exclusive, available only if you visit the Salon in Paris, or if you order from the Lutens website. I don't know what it is, but I have a thing for leather fragrances. I don't like them all. In fact, quite a few have a habit of turning me off quite considerably, but most leather fragrances at least challenge me olfactorily and I'm never left unmoved. Reviews of Cuir Mauresque range from unadulterated love to repulsion, which doesn't surprise me - in my experience, very few leather fragrances gain wholesale acceptance, which is perhaps one of the reasons why one very seldom encounters a proper leather-dominant fragrance in the mainstream these days. It's hard to find a definitive list of notes for Cuir Mauresque, but they include orange blossom, mandarin peel, clove, cumin, civet, nutmeg, styrax, musk, amber, myrrh, incense, cinnamon, oud and cedar. Now, that is a powerhouse list of notes, and having smelled Cuir Mauresque extensively over the past week, I can confirm that this is not a fragrance for the faint hearted. 


On my skin the opening is a fruity concoction, and leather is apparent from the very start. This is not a girly, fruity-floral mix though. Anyone who is familiar with the Lutens line will recognise those intense fruit notes, more dried fruit than fresh berries, and a barrage of spices. It is also intensely sweet, but like the best of Lutens, the sweetness is immediately balanced by smoky leather and spice, so it never becomes cloying. I've read quite a few reviews that mention the orange-ness of this fragrances, but while mandarin peel and orange blossom are listed, on my skin I don't detect this very much. Having said that, there is so much going on here that it could be that it all balances out very nicely. The leather only intensifies with time, becoming smokier and actually quite powdery in the heart. The spices twirl around, varying in intensity and creating a sensation of being close to a fire, with heat that ebbs and flows, for want of a better description. The heart is probably my least favourite phase, but as the perfume progresses to the dry down, the incense kicks in, complementing the leather perfectly.


Cuir Mauresque has stellar lasting power on my skin, no surprise when you consider the intense notes used. Despite these notes, it is not a loud or screechy perfume. It has presence, but it is very well blended, so doesn't overpower like say Miel de Bois. There is something about Cuir Mauresque that reminds me of Knize Ten, another fantastic example of a leather perfume, except it is not as dry and roasted-spicy. There is a classical feel to Cuir Mauresque though, and the use of civet, musk and styrax does lend a feralness as well. My wife can't stand it - she said I smelled like a wild animal. Let's leave it at that! I for one love this fragrance and highly recommend it. I don't think it is particularly masculine or feminine. It has elements of both. The heart is quite powdery and even floral at times, but the base is intense, spicy, incense-y and very leathery. Some reviewers have mentioned they don't get the leather at all, saying it is all about amber. Well, I do get lots of amber, but the leather definitely stands out on my skin, but I think my skin chemistry tends to amplify leather notes. 


The bottom line - if you can get your hands on a sample of this, try it. You may not necessarily like it, but it is wonderfully complex, intense and even mysterious, and worth trying.

100th post musings, a tribute to Ambre Sultan and Vetiver Extraordinaire and a giveaway

Ok, so this is my 100th post. In a way I am almost surprised that I got here. When I first started blogging back in March this year I started with some trepidation. My main stumbling block was the nagging thought of how self-indulgent blogging can be, and I think I actually made mention of this in my 1st post. Thinking of where I am now, I still think my perfume musings are somewhat self-indulgent, but I can also honestly state that I love doing this. I try not to take myself too seriously - after all, I'm a bean counter, not Bertrand Duchafour. One thing that still worries me a little bit after six months of blogging is whether I am truly objective and unbiased, or for that matter, should I be? It's not as if I am a reviewer for the New York Times, with a paying audience. Having said this, I honestly do try to give every perfume I try a fair go, and to write about it as objectively as I can. Touching on that point in the first sentence of this post, I am a little surprised  I've stuck it out thus far. In this busy world, blogging is really quite low on my list of priorities, and I never wanted to get to the point where I felt anxious if I didn't manage to post an article each day, or something like it. In fact, I told myself that if I ever reach that state, I will pack it in, because this is not a job, it's recreation. And I'm not aiming for world peace (just a nice-smelling world ;-) ).

Moving on, I can't get this far and not make mention of two perfumes that changed my perfume life, and helped me experience a paradigm shift from simply viewing fragrance as something I wear to something I live. At the risk of coming across a bit melodramatic, Serge Luten's Ambre Sultan and Frederic Malle's Vetiver Extraordinaire revolutionised the concept of perfume and perfumery for me, making me realise that perfume is truly an art form, and that like any art, can lead you down a path of amazing discovery and self-realisation. I don't aim to review either of these perfumes today, but they both represent for me an ideal in perfume. I was thinking about this and realised that after 100 posts, I haven't reviewed either before. At first I was surprised, but after some reflection I realised that for me to reduce these two masterpieces to mere sentences would not do them justice. For me, to try and analyse these too much would be to risk spoiling their magic. Ambre Sultan and Vetiver Extraordinaire take me on a journey when I wear them and represent to me all that is good and magical and transcendent about perfume, a rare occurrence let it be said. Perfumes like these is one of the reasons I chose to start a perfume blog and this post is my chance to pay homage to them and their creators, Dominic Ropion and Christopher Sheldrake and to people like Frederic Malle and Serge Lutens, who have helped enable them.

I also want to say thank you to those of you who visit my blog, be it regularly or infrequently, and especially the kind comments I have received. I don't have a huge following and it is not my intention or drive to achieve this anyway. However, it is still gratifying to have built up some online contact with a few fellow perfume lovers out there in the ether and I love visiting your blogs too. 

Ok, so now for my giveaway. It's nothing stupendous, but I'd like you to mention two (or one, if you only have one) perfumes that transcend your concept or understanding of perfume, that induces in you some sort of profound emotion. The giveaway will be a small set of samples (about 5 -7, I haven't quite decided yet), covering hopefully a range of styles and houses. I'd prefer not to mention what the samples are, as I am not affiliated to any perfume house. The winner will be chosen randomly by a member of my household (probably excluding pets) and announced this coming Friday. The winner can then send me an email with their personal details.

Layering Serge Lutens

I'm not sure about you, but I have never been a huge layerer of fragrances. I'm not sure why, but perhaps I've always been loathe to combine two fragrances that on their own are gorgeous. If it's good enough on its own, why corrupt it by coupling it with something else, no matter how beautiful that might be too? Recently however, I've been dabbling a bit with combining some of Serge Lutens' perfumes, with surprisingly good results. I'm not going to go into too much detail, but two combinations that really hit the sweet spot for me were as follows:

Ambre Sultan and Sa Majeste La Rose - I suspected this would be a good combo, and I wasn't wrong. Amber and Rose, a match made in heaven, in my opinion. There was something about this development that reminded me surprisingly (or perhaps not) of Amouage Lyric Man. I love Ambre Sultan at the best of times and combined with the dewy purity of Serge's export rose, it reached a sultry, heady height. Yum.

Chergui and A la Nuit - I originally paired  A la Nuit with Ambre Sultan and it fell flat. Combined together the amber never emerged, while the jasmine dominated. However, jasmine and tobacco is a great pairing and with Chergui thrown into the mix it was a totally different story. I was reminded a little of Nuit Noir by Mona Di Orio, but not as skanky. Surprisingly this combo was quite dry, whereas on its own I usually find Chergui to be quite sweet. It worked really well on the hot, humid summer day we were experiencing.

What I find really showed in both these cases is that layering works really well when you combine a soliflore (or a relatively simple, linear perfume) with a more complex one. In these cases both Chergui and Ambre Sultan are  complex, rich arrangements, while A la Nuit and Sa Majeste La Rose are all about jasmine and rose respectively, and quite simple (but not inferior). The result is both stunning in each case, but not stunning for some; I asked my wife to sniff my wrist with tobacco and jasmine on and she said I smelled like a woman. Well, I happen to think women smell very nice, thank you very much!

Does anyone else layer? I would certainly recommend giving Serge Lutens a go. I'm sure there are many others in the line that would work too. 


Well folks, that's the end of June. Halfway through 2010 and I wish you all very happy perfume adventures for the next six months.

Serge Lutens - Bas de Soie update

As I mentioned on the weekend, I tried the new Serge Lutens release Bas de Soie, on skin, and my initial impressions can be read here. What I said at the time was that I thought it developed on my skin as a leather scent, rather than the described iris and hyacinth accords. Well, today I decided to spray Bas de Soie on a blotter and I was immediately overwhelmed by a prominent hyacinth note, extremely bold and quite feminine. It's amazing how this didn't show up so distinctly on my skin. I can also detect Iris, although quite a strange one. I have read a review that describes Bas de Soie as an ultraviolet rendition of hyacinth and iris and I must admit, on paper it is a bit oddball. On my skin I found it hard to perceive this and as I said, it felt like a cross between a soapy Spanish leather and a Russian leather. Weird. I've had a eureka moment, but I still feel quite confused. On paper Bas de Soie is forceful and brash; on my skin it is more subdued and very nice. 


Image credit: physics.weber.edu/carroll/archimedes

Serge Lutens - Bas de Soie

Bas de Soie is the latest export release by Serge Lutens, which was destined for international release sometime in August. Imagine my surprise then, when walking into my local Fenwick department store this morning I saw a tester of Bas de Soie on the shelf. So of course I tested it immediately. Now, I had briefly read about its launch, but hadn't paid all that much attention to it, so I was approaching it with no preconceptions. Now, I am not a perfume expert by any means, but I think I have a reasonably good nose, and after an indistinct half an hour of weird florals, which my wife told me reminded her of a hair conditioner called Sheen, it dawned upon me that this was actually a leather fragrance. When I got home tonight, I started to read up a bit more about Bas de Soie, which seems to be a release for the ladies, and translates as silk stockings! What surprised me even more was that the primary notes in Bas de Soie are Hyacinth and Iris, not a mention of leather. In fact, Uncle Serge is releasing another perfume, a non-export, called Boxeuses, which is actually the leather fragrance. I'm seriously confused folks. On my skin, this is not remotely feminine, although admittedly it is decidedly floral for the first half hour or so and I definitely had it down as a leather fragrance, sort of a halfway point between a Spanish and a Russian leather; it smelled quite a lot like saddle soap to me. I love an iris note and I did not remotely detect iris in Bas de Soie. If anyone has tried this yet, I'd love to get your opinion on how it played out on your skin.

I'm not going to do a full-blown review of Bas de Soie, save to say that I really liked it. In fact, I thought it was the best Serge Lutens release in a long while. I know a lot of people loved Fille en Aiguilles, but it did very little to float my boat. L'eau Serge Lutens did even less for me. But Bas de Soie definitely has something folks. I'm sure it will please some and not others, as Uncle Serge never fails to do. I have seen reviews of Bas de Soie by Octavian at 1000fragrances and Denyse at Graindemusc, both of whom seemed to get the interplay of Hyacinth and Iris, albeit in a fresher, almost metallic style, so maybe it is just me who is deluded! Anyway, I think Bas de Soie is definitely worth a try.

Let's try some Histoires de Parfums - Ambre 114 and 1740 Marquis de Sade

I've had a little box of samples from Histoires de Parfums for over a year now. This is a funny line - they all sound really great on paper, yet when I tested them, most didn't translate onto skin. This line flies a little beneath the radar I think. I know they've recently released their tuberose trilogy, and Marquis de Sade seems to garner some praise, but overall they seem to languish a bit in the perfume twilight zone, no?

Ambre 114 has the following notes (spelling from package insert): Thym, Noix de Muscale, Rose, Geranium, Patchouli, Santal, Cedre, Vetiver, Ambre, Vanille, Feves Tonka, Benzoin, Musc. Wow, that took me about two minutes just to type out. Must be a scent bomb. If you're wondering (or your French is crap like mine is), Noix de Muscale is nutmeg. This fragrance opens spicy and slightly herbal. Thyme and nutmeg seem like a slightly unusual pairing for top notes to me. The opening reminds me a little of Serge Luten's Ambre Sultan, which I think contains quite a lot of thyme too, but Ambre 114 is not quite as powerfully intense and herby. The rose and geranium temper the spices and I can detect quite early the patchouli and sandalwood, which add a slightly creamy accord. Amber comes to the fore quite quickly, but it is not a sickly sweet amber; rather it is quite dry and mild. I can pick out a bit of vetiver that grounds the fragrance. Ambre 114 softens considerably thereafter. The amber is definitely the focus, sweetened a little by the sandalwood and vanilla. I like this fragrance, I really do, but I can't help feeling slightly underwhelmed, especially after reading this list of notes longer than my arm; I thought it would translate into something a bit more complex and with oomph. I think it's worth sampling, but hey, I'll stick to my gold standard of ambers thank you very much, so its still Ambre Sultan all the way for me.

So on to probably the most talked-about fragrance in the line, 1740 Marquis de Sade. Notes are: Bergamot, Davan Sensualis, Patchouli, Coriander, Cardamom, Cedre, Cistus, Bouleau, Cuir, Vanilla, Immortelle. Oh heck, I've just read immortelle; we don't get along very well. This opens with a brief bergamot blast and then turns spicy and thick. I don't know exactly what Davana smells like, but I can detect a spicy piquancy which I think is the coriander and cardamom and the patchouli is very much there, but luckily not too overpowering. There's something about this at this point that reminds me a little of Arabie by Serge Lutens, but sans the stewed fruit accord. I can already detect the dreaded immortelle. This scent never develops into a full-on leather fragrance to me. I find that it is increasingly all about immortelle, sadly. I do get a bit of vanilla and cistus in the mix and what smells like birch tar, which may be the cuir, but this is all drowned out by immortelle. Have I mentioned that word yet? Ok, this isn't Sables, in case you're wondering, but I do find this note quite heavy here. I do sort of like it, but I wish they had amped up the leather and spices and chucked the immortelle. In case you're wondering, I don't really find this a leathery, kinky or outrageous scent, as might befit some nut-job like the Marquis, so I wonder just how much of a marketing ploy this was. Then again, this house flies under the radar, so I am not sure how much of a role marketing plays.

In summary, neither of these is a poor fragrance, and like I often say, try them yourself; they're at least worth sampling. Incidentally, (or at least this time last year, when I made a purchase) this sample set is very reasonably priced and they all come in a nice plastic case with a leaflet that lists all the notes. 

Image from mitoloji.info: Juliette by the Marquis de Sade

Serge Lutens - Fleurs de Citronnier

I'm usually  a little nervous of any flower theme by Serge Lutens. His perfumes are big and bold, often oriental and last for hours. I love the smell of lemon blossom, a smell I can easily identify with, as I grew up with a lemon tree in my garden, and my association with this flower (and orange blossom for that matter) lies with late spring, when it is just starting to warm up sufficiently to realise that summer is just around the corner. However, I needn't have worried in this case - Fleurs de Citronnier is simply wonderful.

Fleurs de Citronnier has quite a simple construction and its notes consist of lemon blossom, neroli, tuberose and musk. However, simple is not necessarily inferior and this is a gorgeous, lush perfume, without ever being too floral and heady. It opens with an exquisite lemon and neroli top note; if I could bottle just this accord and have it last for ages, that would be a dream scent for me. Its a very realistic and refreshing accord, perfect for a spring day. It sweetens as the tuberose appears, but thankfully the citrus notes are strong enough to temper the usually heady control that tuberose usually exerts in a fragrance. I say thankfully, because as much as I admire tuberose, it is quite difficult for a man to pull it off when presented in exuberant concentrations. Its actually quite unisex for a tuberose fragrance and I felt as if I had no problem pulling this one off. The musk is a lovely addition to the fragrance, its presence preventing this from being too straightforward. In the late dry down this fragrance is all about the musk to me, and I'm almost certain its the same musk or musks that are used in Muscs Kublai Khan. I wouldn't say they are dirty necessarily, but they are voluptuous in a fleshy, skin-scent sort of way.

I'm actually blown away by Fleurs de Citronnier. I'm not sure I'd wear it in the colder seasons, although I could see the initiall blast of lemon and neroli being a good reminder that spring does exist, but I think it is perfect for late spring weather. This is a massive thumbs up for me and it comes highly recommended. Like all Serge Lutens fragrances, longevity is never a problem and it lasts for a good ten hours on my skin.

Muscs Koublai Khan and other musks

Perfume notes (from Luck Scent) - vegetal musks, costus root, labdanum, grey amber, vanilla, patchouli, ambrette seed, moroccan rose)

This is a post mainly about Muscs Koublai Khan by Serge Lutens. I am a huge fan of this line anyway, but have only sampled very few of the non-export line, which are only  available in Paris. Ok, I'm only across the channel, but first, I don't travel to France very often, and second, I am not inclined to spend £100-plus on an untried bottle. Having said that, each year a non-export perfume is released to the rest of the world on a limited edition basis. This way I have managed to at least sample Chergui and Fumerie Turque. In December 2009 Muscs Koublai Khan was also released this way and I was extremely excited, as out of all the Serge Lutens line, this seems to be the one that generates the most discussion on forums (incidentally, I have read that the non-export release for 2010 is going to be Cuir Mauresque!). 


So what about the reviews? I must admit, I find a lot of reviews of MKK quite amusing. So many of them play on the Mongol Warrior association and use the concept of dirty musk to describe MKK as smelling of circuses, a man's unwashed privates, sweaty saddles and horses, dust rising up off the steppes, and so on. It was fascinating to read, if a bit fanciful, but I also know that I am quite tolerant of 'skanky' perfumes in general and I don't usually find musk a challenge; I'm not anosmic to musk, I smell it well enough, it just doesn't smell that dirty or animalic to me. Having said that, I do know there is a distinction between the so-called 'dirty' musks and the 'clean' musks, of which the latter are often referred to as laundry musks. The whole area of musks is very complex and I don't have the technical skills to go into any detail. If you want to read an in-depth review of musks, please refer to Helg's blog, Perfume Shrine, here


The opening of MKK is quite bright, with a brief burst of what seems like citrus and a rose note that is immediately obvious to my nose. The musk is evident from the start and it is clear that this is not a clean musk; it is dusty and reminiscent of fur, but clean fur. There is an element to the musk though that feels (more than smells for some reason) of the steam that is released by an iron in a laundry room. Its a slight tickle or buzz at the back of the nose, ever so slightly metallic or ionic, just beneath the florals. The musk does intensify and if I'm in a particularly imaginative mood, I can probably make some association with mongol warriors and sweaty horses, but honestly, I don't find this particularly animalic or dirty like so many do. In the heart the rose note subsides and the musk becomes a bit dustier and drier. That furriness is still evident, which does give it a slight animalic edge but not overly so. The rose is still there, but very subtle and in the background. In the dry down MKK has become fairly linear - its still dry, dusty, slightly furry, perhaps a little sweetened by the vanilla. I'm not able to detect any patchouli, but it must be there, lending a somewhat animalic vibe. I still get that slightly fuzzy, ironing/laundry buzz, like freshly pressed clothes, which I assume must be some sort of musk in the mix, but the effect is not laundry-clean.


So, is MKK worth the hype? I think so, but perhaps not in the way it comes across on the boards. It definitely is not a clean musk fragrance, but neither is it the skank-fest other people find it to be, at least not for me. Generalisations notwithstanding, I have read that women often find musks to be stronger and more animalic than men (perhaps we are just stinky bastards) and perhaps its no coincidence that a lot of the posts I've read that describe MKK in hard-core skank terms are by women. In any event, whichever way you look at it, MKK is a very well-crafted fragrance and is worthy of the attention it receives, perhaps just not in the way its often portrayed.


So what about some other musks? To be honest, I find the so-called dirty musks more interesting than the cleaner, laundry-type musks and the following are ones that might tickle your fancy:


Musc Ravageur by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle - sultry, sweet, musky and loaded with sexual frisson, this is a musk for a night on the town, with a bit of naughty loving afterwards!


Musk Reinvention by CH I Hate Perfume - I haven't tried this personally but I have read that it is quite an intense musk, albeit somewhat linear.


Horny Little Devil by Smell Bent - this is quite a quirky one. Its a perfume oil, and is quite a insidious musk, striding the line between well behaved and ever so slightly kinky. An unusual twist is its mix of pepper and chocolate, the chocolate making this reminiscent of Musc Maori by Parfumerie Generale.


So, if any of you can think of some other musk perfumes that are dirty, skanky, sweaty, lusty, or whatever, please drop me a line and let me know!

Spice and amber - Ambre Russe and Caravelle Epicee

I have had samples of Ambre Russe (Parfum D'Empire) and Caravelle Epicee (Frapin et Cie) for quite some time now. Both were purchased from Les Senteurs in London. Incidentally, I don't know if any of you know of Les Senteurs, but they are a small business in London's Belgravia, selling some wonderful niche fragrances. If you visit them personally, they will usually be more than happy to provide you with samples. If you aren't able to visit, they will mail you 6 samples (generous quantities I might add) for £18. 


When I first tried these, I think it was in winter, or possibly very early spring. All I know is that neither spoke to me and I felt that they were decent, but unremarkable. I put them to one side, but recently I dug them out of my mucky scent sin bag, looked at them and then thought: "what the hell, lets give these two another go...." I'm not quite sure what made me try one on each wrist; its something I do quite often actually. I think I'm just greedy for scent. Thinking about it now, I think it was the booze that did it. No, I wasn't inebriated, but both these fragrances have boozy notes and I felt like comparing them side by side. 


Both fragrances open in an alcoholic haze. Ambre Russe has a top note of Vodka, and it opens dry and slightly vegetal, like potato-distilled alcohol. It isn't overtly boozy, but within a minute or so it sweetens slightly, when I detect a touch of patchouli, amber and something herbal. I'm not sure about herbs, it could be lavender or perhaps cardamom? There is a leather note in there as well, but it veers towards the fruity side rather than the fetish/leather jacket club, with a hint of smoke. I felt that at this point it bore a resemblance to Caravelle Epicee, but less boozy and sweet. In the heart the amber really comes to the fore and what a great amber it is. The funny thing is, when I first tried this last year, I never really got a serious amber note, yet months on, it hits me right between the eyes. Is this just me having a better-trained nose and more perfume exposure, or is it a seasonal, skin chemistry thing? This fragrance is sweet, but like the best of Serge Lutens, for example, this is tempered by the balance of herbs and spices. The dry down is amber, lightly spiced, dryish, yet enough sweetness to please those who like that style of amber. If I were to classify or pigeon hole this, I would say it is a bit like a cross between Serge's Ambre Sultan and Montale's Blue Amber. It is a complex and rich fragrance and I definitely give it a strong thumbs up.


Caravelle Epicee opens with booze too, but its cognac this time, sweet, heady but again, cleverly tempered with herbs and spices, so it never becomes cloying. The sweetness is rounded with an oaky, caramelness not unlike what one would expect from an oak barrel in which the cognac was aged. Its a clever touch. I detect herbs and a slight floralness which might be lavender or sage, but honestly, I'm not sure. There is a smokiness in this fragrance too, more charred barrel than burning wood, that weaves in and out, almost incense-like, and as tobacco and cumin seep through in the heart, I'm swooning. I can't believe how much cumin I detect (having not noticed previously, until I read a review of Ines, of All I Am, A Redhead blog). Its wonderful, and with the nutmeg and pepper, forms a formidable spice combo. Although sweet, there is a slightly sour tang that balances things. In the dry down, I am reminded of sitting in a library, comfey in a leather armchair in front of the fire, glass of cognac in hand - perhaps I am just being fanciful!  Ironically, despite the winter comfort scene, I actually think Caravelle Epicee performs better on my skin in warmer weather. This is also a complex, lush and lovely perfume.


I think these are both beautiful fragrances. I think they bear similarities in that both have a booze top note, spices and smoke. Where they differ the most is that Ambre Russe is ultimately all about amber, while Caravelle Epicee is mostly about cognac and spices, yet both are sweet, but balanced, without ever becoming cloying. Both work better in warmer weather in my opinion, despite them being ironically comfort scents, at least to my nose. I recommend both wholeheartedly.