L'Eau Serge Lutens: new fragrance, l'anti-parfum

If cleaninliness is next to godliness in Anglo-Saxon cultures, then Serge Lutens, the maestro of conceptual orientalia with plenty of "dirty", cuminy sprinkles along the way, re-introduces the idea with the moniker that cleanliness is next to luxury. His motto for his upcoming release leaves little doubt: "La propreté est une luxe!" Cleanliness is a luxury. Serge Lutens presents L'Eau Serge Lutens, "L'Anti-Parfum": "le savon le plus cher du monde" (i.e.the world's most expensive soap), that is to say a perfumer's idea of "clean", conceived alongside his long-time collaborator Chris Sheldrake. Testament to his path till now is Clair de Musc with its transparent, crystalised musk, the idea of a cozy second skin which breathes and lives with you. Or perhaps Nuit de Cellophane, an atypical floral Lutens based on osmanthus and light honeyed notes that crackle under the crispness of cellophane and the night.

Indeed Lutens had been thinking about the notion of "clean" and how to interpret it for quite some time now, it's not just a sudden break with his previous portfolio. The avant-garde painter Francis Picabia (1879-1953) had interestingly proclaimed between 1912-1920 that "la propreté est le luxe du pauvre: soyez sale!" (i.e. cleanliness is the luxury of the poor: be dirty!") Certainly with the increasing commodities in plumbing and indoors water supply, the urban lower classes, for centuries destined to live among filth, suddenly had access to the elements of hugiene, equating them in outer appearence at least to the upper classes. This elitist stance by Picabia is echoing in my ears as I open the new promo material by Lutens: Could it be that Serge is having a good laugh on us all? It wouldn't be the first time he employs a healthy dose of humour in his opus (see Fille en Aiguilles, Tubereuse Criminelle, Mandarine Mandarin...).

The new offering is the upcoming international release for next spring (March), although it will be available in Europe from February 1st, and be part of the export line of fragrances aimed at both sexes. The promotion text is talking about this new diametrically antithetical stance which deviates from the opulent orientalia of plush woods and spices. "This creation is my response to a world that is overscented... I might even say 'embalmed'... in the sense that the ritual of wearing perfume is no longer about romance but part of a meaningless ritual." [quote] Stopping to think about the oversaturation of the market with several hundreds of intrusive perfumes that are screaming "me too" mentality about its wearers, he's got a point! Certainly the playfulness with which he has been handling his eponymous line in both concepts and names is a sign of his full grasp of how the discerning customer wants to distinguish themselves.

"Une chemise blanche, fraîche, à l'instant où on la passe. Une fraîcheur qui pursuit les heures. Une page blanche.": A clean white shirt at the moment one puts it on. Freshness which persists hour after hour. A blank page. Perhaps the real meaning lies at this last phrase: The new anti-perfume serves as a canvas on which to graft one's own personality. The whole notion of an eau (scented water) is a priori a study in lightness but also of tautology: "comme le chat s’appelle le chat!" (the way a cat is called a cat!). Lutens doesn't like cologne, so this is not following the Eau de Cologne genre. Therefore we have a composition which should be diaphanous (but not aquatic!) and easily lend itself to the personality of its wearer, projecting a clear, distinct message. Perfume historian Elisabeth de Feydeau, who was present at the presentation, insists on the complexity of its accords built on well-known notes: bracing hesperidia for the opening, magnolia with its waxy, paraffin-like aspect highlighted in the heart, soapy background of notes that recall the hermine furs that hide behind the royal personages of France's history. How ironic that this royal heritage is intermingled in a "parfum pauvre" if we are to take Picabia's quote to heart!

L'Eau Serge Lutens is presented in a very artistic, conceptial video on this link. Serge is seen smoking (there goes the French idea of "clean"), going up and down the elevator, contemplating with his usual philosophical attitude, the camera zooming on his shirt and tie, his hands, his gaze... I wouldn't expect anything less.

The new L'Eau Serge Lutens is embottled in a longer, even more architectural flacon which reminds me of the first cosmetic preparations by Shiseido and is perhaps a hark-back to those days of Eudermine, the beautifying lotion-cum-aromatic in the long red bottle. Its white, spartan looks suit the idea of "clean" admirably and it has something of an understated luxury about it. After all, "porteriez-vous des bijoux sales ?", would you wear dirty jewels?

The concept of perfume as parfum bijou is at the heart of the Lutensian mentality and finds us very simpatico. Perfume to be seen as luxury has to be seperated from both its status-symbol placement (so bourgeois! so nouveau riche!) and its use as a habitual gesture, like brushing one's teeth or applying face cream, mechanical moves that comprise the grooming routine. It needs to be savoured fully on the appropriate occasion. As he has intimated in a previous interview "I am not one to go for perfume wearing for every day, like a commodity. But when I do, I am not miserly, I use it with abandon..."

L'Eau Serge Lutens Eau de Parfum 100ml, 100 euros availalble next March everywhere the export line of Lutens is sold.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Serge Lutens news and reviews

Please visit Elisabeth de Feydeau, and journaliste.overblog and grain de musc for more impressions.

Serge Lutens Fourreau Noir: fragrance review

Noir this, noir that...What is it about Black that makes it creep up on you with the silent force of a nidja? After Serge Noire [click for review] which was inspired by the black serge material used for clothing for so long, now comes Fourreau Noir from il maestro Serge Lutens and his sidekick Christopher Sheldrake. I was lucky to preview it before its official release (next month) and its perplexing attributes have me pondering on its retro ambience.

The name means "black seath", but also the petticoat garment that was used to make dresses with lower-body volume stay crisp is referenced, as staying even today in fashion parlance "en fourreau pleats". The desire to allude to timelessness is evident and one could liken it to perfume companies' desire to present a hint to the classicism of their compositions not destined to be ephemera (although Guerlain's La Petite Robe Noire was nothing but!)
The coumarinic, benzopyrone tonka bean note laced with only a hint of lavender appears fougère-like (hold the moss, please) in Fourreau Noir with a musk bottom that is between proper and improper; an allusion and wordplay almost, between the Latin lavare (to wash, to clean) of lavender and the intimacy of warm caramel-rich musk ~of which Lutens has cornered the market with polar opposites Clair de Musc and Muscs Kublai Khan. If Encens et Lavande and Gris Clair are intensely about lavender, but of the smoky kind and respectively warm and cool, Fourreau Noir is not predominantly about lavender but tips the hat to the extrait de parfum version of Jicky missing its intensely animalic vintage character (ie.civet).
Fougère ("fern-like") forms one pillar of the modern perfume classification, usually masculine-geared, originally founded by the legendary Fougère Royale for Houbigant which was composed by renowned perfumer Paul Parquet. The main accord of this fantasy scent ~ferns don't really have a smell of their own~ includes a bright top note of lavender and sensual base notes of oakmoss and coumarin, with a popular subdivision being "aromatic fougères" which include herbaceous notes, spices and woods.

Atypical for Lutens arguably to go for an overt masculine smell in any of his fragrances, championing the reign of the unisex so far most vehemently (even the virile-looking Vetiver Oriental is more oriental than vetiver in fact!). Yet in Fourreau Noir, the "black sheath" is more of a throw-back to 80s bachelor silk boxer shorts, encasing "peau de mec" (guy's skin) meant to hint at the seductive stakes of a rich playboy that undulates between Bret Easton Ellis heroes ~ Less Than Zero debutants and American Psycho's gang of lawyers~ splashing a bit of Gaultier's Le Male without any inhibitions as to its perceived gay quota, with a hint of patchouli. Contrary to the cocaine-sniffing which such associations would bring to our vortex with the haste of lightining, there is a discreet and revisionistically pleasant whiff of marihuana-incense plus caspirene (the later reminiscent of a gigantic feminine bestseller, can you guess?). Tonka beans also pledge their allegience with hay, vanilla grass (Anthoxanthum odoratum) and sweet grass (Hierochloe odorata) while coumarin, the main component, derived through the cyclization of cinnamic acid, bunches them up all together for the sweet picking. Suffice to say the intemingling is evocative of closely-shaven cheeks (no three-day stubble from this guy!), topping expensive Cerruti suits, dancing dangerously close to yours.
My friend Denyse first mentioned dihydromyrcenol, a synthetic note which Chandler Burr describes as an abomination ("sink cleanser spilled on an aluminum counter"), included in several masculine fougères and aquatics of the 1990s (Drakkar Noir, Cool Water, Aqua di Gio, CK One, YSL Nuit de l’homme, but also Coco Mademoiselle!!). Dihydromyrcenol as a raw material does smell harshly of lime-citrus with a metallic yet also aromatic edge and is very fresh (interpret this as you'd like). However the effect at least when dabbing Fourreau Noir on the skin is not as harsh as all that to me personally, aided by the mock bravado displayed by the sweeter aspects of the composition no doubt, such as a bittersweet myrrh inclusion, a nod to the majestic Lutensian opus La Myrrhe (to which I will revert soon) as well as the other elements mentioned above (impressions of patchouli, ambery hints).

While Fille en Auguilles (the latest export Lutens fragrance, reviewed here) has unlocked precious memories for me, this one has not produced the same reverie yet, perhaps because that dizzying lifestyle hasn't been mine. If he offers Fourreau Noir, with a handheld velours compact hiding an expensive jewel but shutting swiftly before you touch it as a joke, question yourself about accepting: are you frizzily-haired Pretty Woman enough for it?

Serge Lutens Fourreau Noir notes: tonka bean and lavender, with musk, almond and lightly smoky accents.

Fourreau Noir officially debuts on 1st September 2009 as an exclusive to Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris (75 ml, 110 €) in the familiar bell-jars that stack up on the purple and black shelves. The picture depicts the Limited Edition bottle which is in total disaccord with anything opulently Lutensian so far: I am perplexed but also intrigued despite myself!
Edit to add: People have been wanting that kitty bottle. Might I point out that it is only the Limited Edition bottle and those go for 850 euros each :-(

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news and reviews, Paris shopping


Pics Less Than Zero via pastemagazine.com, Pretty Woman via blog.jinni.com.

Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles: fragrance review

Many summers ago I used to spend my days by the sea at my grandparents' villa, surrounded by majestic pines as old as the original tenants, numerous dusty fig-trees and one wild-pear tree which was later struck by lightning to ash. The wind was sighing in the boughs, a nightingale came to sit on my shoulder and the longings of those long summers promised adventures as yet uncharted, our psyche elevated through a taste of awe. The long pine needles were falling in heaps on the floor of this pine grove ~infuriating my grandfather who had to work doubly hard along with the gardener to keep the grass properly breathing~ counterpointing the mighty trunks, often bleeding tears of golden sticky resin used in both turpentine and retsina. This was different from the mastic and copal resins, which we grounded in fine dust, or the rosin, which I witnessed being used by the student of violin who routinely accompanied me at the piano at the Conservatoire. We were sent as children to gather fresh pine needles, run them through the cold water of the outdoors tap, gather them in bunches and hang them upside-down to dry: they would be stored to make herbal tea with honey to ward off colds, a tip of our German cleaning woman, when the summer villa would revert to its silent existence for half a year. Everything about those precious memories was conjured as soon as I heard of the newest Serge Lutens fragrance, Fille en Aiguilles and the reality of it didn't betray my visuals as some of you will find out for yourselves (yes, there's a draw for samples coming up, keep reading!)

The first announcement containing the notes had been the instigation, the second round of news with the cryptic messages by Serge had been the icing, as it left us with exactly nothing to go on upon ~the mystery was well preserved: this girl ~or boy, who could wear this equally well~ rolling on pincushions was not telling any tales just yet. The aiguilles part (“needles”) in the name has been linked to sewing needles (due to the French idiom "de fil en aiguille" meaning from needle to thread, from one thing to another, ie. snowballing), or stiletto heels ("talons aiguilles" in French) perhaps exactly because there was the "tick tick tick" repetitive sound in the press release. Still pine needles, those long thin lances that strew forest floors and exude their resinous, medicinal-sweet smell when the air is warm, are at the core of the composition rather than the ill-sitting, detergent-like tones of so much "pine"-baptized air pollution posing as home and car ambience.

In a nod to old empirics and apothecaries, who healed ills attributed by the superstitious ailing to supernatual forces or the wrath of God through folkore herb medicine and mysticism, uncle Serge acts as a shaman, letting out blood with his pine needle in his bag of seemingly endless tricks. In Alain Corbin's book "The Fragrant and the Foul" the theory of miasma is documented: the widespread belief that foul smells accounted for disease and therefore eradicating the bad smells would result in battling the disease (Incidentally there was also the widespread belief of bathing disrupting the protective mantle of the skin, but this is the focus of another of our articles). The practice has long ancentrastal ties to ritualistic cleansing via sulphur as depicted in antiquity, remnants of which are referenced here and there in Greek tragedy such as Euripides's Helen. Fire and brimstone led by a savant Theonoi goes far, far back...In the Middle-Ages during bouts of cholera, the plague and other miasmata, empirical healers used a large hollow beak stuffed with cleaning herbs so as to protect themselves, earning them the descriptor of "quack", which by association became synonymous with charlatan later on when the science of medicine prevailed. The word is of Dutch origin (kwakzalver, meaning boaster who applies a salve); boaster because quacks sold their folk medicine merchandise shouting in the streets.The belief in the magical properties of scented compounds runs through the fabric of fragrance history: let's cast our minds back to the alleged cure-all of Eau de Cologne by Johann Maria Farina and his imitators! But is perfume really snake-oil? Only to the extend which we allow it to be, yet there lies artfulness in the pharmacopoeia.

This particular catharctic blood-letting preceding the herbal ointment, forms a trickling kaleidoscope of the elements which Lutens has accustomed us to, via the sleight of hand of perfumer Christopher Sheldrake: There is the candied mandarin peel with its strange appeal of cleaner (La Myrrhe) and putrid aspects (Mandarine Mandarin), the fruits confits of his Bois et Fruits, the interplay of cool and hot of the masterful Tubéreuse Criminelle, the charred incense depths and fireworks of Serge Noire, the vetiver in Vétiver Oriental with a rough aspect peeking through and even some of the spice mix of El Attarine, appearing half poised between cumin and fenugreek. After the last, pretty and atypical for Lutens Nuit de Cellophane, Fille en Aiguilles is an amalgam of strange accords, a disaccord within itself, but with a compelling appeal that pleases me. Contrasting application techniques ~dabbing versus spraying~ I would venture that should you want the more camphoraceous elements to surface, spraying is recommended; while dabbing unleashes the more orientalised aspects. There is sweetness in the sense that there is sweetness in Chergui or Douce Amere, so don't let it scare you too much. The liquid in my bottle is wonderfully dark brown, somber yet incadecent in the light of the day and as dark as ink, much like Sarrasins, in the dusk of the evening (and be warned that it also stains fabric almost as much).

Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles has notes of vetiver, incense, fruits, pine needles and spices in a luminous woody oriental formula.
Available in the oblong export bottles of 50 ml/1.7oz of Eau de Parfum Haute Concentration for 95 € /140$ at Paris Sephora and of course Le Palais Royal and later on at Selfridges UK, Aedes US, the Bay in Toronto and online.

For our readers, enter a comment to win one of the five samples given of the new fragrance well ahead of its wider distribution!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news and reviews

Other reviews: Elisabeth de Feydeau, Grain de Musc, Perfume Posse.

Paintings by Colette Calascione, via deyarte.blogspot.com

Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle: fragrance review

It is difficult to speak of that which cannot be detained within the cage of words. The ether-like essence of certain beings escapes elucidation, their legerdemain lies into something almost divine in origin. One can only feel it in one's bones, like grim silhouettes walking over one's grave.

Perfumes only rarely reproduce that otherworldy effect, a hubrid of aberrant chill and aching beauty: There is Messe de Minuit by Etro (more of which later) and there is Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens. Two otherwordly vampires of piercing eyes which draw blood inveigling us into submitting willingly to their almost sacral fangs. The olfactory embodiment of Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, there is a thread between Eros and Thanatos in the dangerous alliance which this fragrance proposes, spun in purple and acid-green phosphorus.

Tubéreuse Criminelle (Criminal Tuberose), issued in 1999 by Serge Lutens Les Salons de Palais Royal (under the aegis of Shiseido) is truly felonious in that it makes one yearn for the sting it produces through its most unwarranted beginning: its acetophenon top notes arrest the senses with the disinfectant emissions of long-forgotten attic chests. Yet the effect is nothing short of extremely calculated and ingenious, like a Surrealist painting seen from an angle or the pleasure that comes from drawing a long inhale of a Kool menthol-aromatized cigarette. The sharp and kinky wintergreen/eucalyptus-mint aroma of Tubéreuse Criminelle (usually this is due to methyl salicylate) replicates the menthol blast that the natural blossoms of this devious plant emit when freshly-picked; a technique also employed with a lighter touch in Carnal Flower chez Frédéric Malle. It was exacerbated by Lutens, willing to generously give the fragrance the bend it seemed to take during its creation. Nature in its infinite wisdom has invested the rubbery, bloodlike essence of tuberose with a nose-tingling green glow which balances the intoxicating effect; it was the latter which was accused of producing spontaneous orgasms and thus young maidens in the Victorian era were forbidden from smelling the trumpety little blossoms! Perhaps fittingly Lutens took a popular sensual game of "fire and ice" into investing the composition with aspects of chill and warmth interjecting one another, making Tubéreuse Criminelle panseasonal.

Although Christopher Sheldrake, the perfumer working alongside maestro Serge Lutens, has taken the floral path as the itenerary for his composition, the finished effect reminds me of the subtler bouquet of a Riesling wine with its goût petrol more than a vase of flowers; its effarvescent effect augmenting when the first taste has dissipated from the palate. After the initial phase soft indefiniable flowers emerge, not with the piercingly sweet nature of floral fragrances, but with the creaminess of some white blooms, buttery and silky, lightly reminiscent of kid's glue, folded in a polished musky-sweet base with the merest fruity tonalities; a sensual, whispered drydown that is most unexpected after the initial blast and effortlessly androgynous in character. Like Marlen Dietrich’s name according to Jean Cocteau, but in reverse, Tubéreuse Criminelle starts with a whip stroke, ends with a caress. For sadomasochists and people appreciative of The Agony and The Ecstasy. A masterpiece!!

Notes for Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle : jasmine, orange blossom, hyacinth, tuberose, nutmeg, clove, styrax, musk and vanilla.

Tubéreuse Criminelle forms part of the Serge Lutens Paris Exclusives, available at Les Salons de Palais Royal as Eau de Parfum in bell jars of 75ml.

A small decant from my botle will be given to a lucky reader!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens scents, Salicylates



Clip of P.I.Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty suite op.66 act III pas de caractere, originally uploaded by imusiciki on Youtube
Top pic via fc04.deviantart.com, bottle pic taken by Elena Vosnaki ©PerfumeShrine

Fille en Aiguilles & Fourreau Noir: First Images & Associations of the upcoming Lutens fragrances

The new fragrances of Serge Lutens, which we had announced on this article a while ago, will soon debut (Fille en Aiguilles comes out on July 1st!) and the speculation on what they entail is high: The Lutensian cosmos always produces something of an enigma, a riddle that necessitates multiple solutions like a geometry problem that can be approached in different ways, still all of them resulting in the concentrated essence of a new look to our world.


For Fourreau Noir Lutens takes a sartotial point of departure to narrate a tale of mystery.
"Two white hands emerge against the light, moving so slowly that they redefine the shadows, making them look darker. The contours of the body, illuminated by a gleam of light seeping through an open door, offer contrast. She moves forward, trampling the stairs beneath her feet, her smile broadens. With all the virtue of vice, this tight black dress had such a fluid shape that I could revel in its language..." Serge's fascination with the juxtaposition between black and white is infamous. Serge Noire was also alluding to it with its smoky trail and controversial press-release and the Japonesque fascination with the painted white skin is something which haunts the creative imagination of Lutens for long.

The limited edition bell jar (a special presentation of the Paris exclusive regular bell jars for collectors) is positively kittenish; perhaps the most playful flacon to ever come out of Les Salons du Palais Royal with its cat sketch seen from the back, gazing at the stars suspended in the lightly rosey-purplish juice.
The mysterious juice takes another incensy trail, the one left over by the more ecclesiastical and spicier Serge Noire, which took the hardened path to cloth, the one of utilitarian dress, while Forreau Noir denotes more luxury with its silky body-conscious aura. The lavender is diminuated, in order to let hay/tonka bean and incense do their thing, so we should expect a more feminine and less traditional composition than the typical masculine fougère.

For Fille en Aiguilles, Serge is playing with us: "Under a sunshade, the reckless cicada begins to sing. What a silly thing. A truly fatal hymn! Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.
Telling us what makes Paris tick..."
I do notice however that the French text utilises the phrase Une fille à aiguilles en quelque sorte (a girl on needles of some kind) which could imply either simply stiletto points, or her disquetitude of being "on needles". Of course the pine resin which is the obvious association of the pine resin in the notes is not to be missed. While at the same time the press release ends with "Le dernier cri de Paris", which translates as "the latest vogue". Is it because it picks up a trend that hasn't been noticed up till now or does it hope to introduce a trend in itself? Deciphering the riddle posed is never conclusive. After the conventionally pretty Nuit de Cellophane, shall we expect a flamboyant firerwork like the sublime El Attarine? I fervently hope for the latter result, at any rate!

You can read notes and preliminary assumptions based on them on this article.
For the time being, the only full reviews online are those by Elisabeth de Feydeau in French on this link.
We will return soon with our own, starting with Fille en Aiguilles!


Click on pics to enlarge!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens scents & news, Upcoming releases

Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles and Fourreau Noir: new fragrances

Official information has finally become available concerning the upcoming releases by Serge Lutens, the artistic director who changed the face of niche with his epoch-making line of fragrances for Shiseido and his own label under Shiseido's wing, Parfums Serge Lutens.

The two new fragrances will join the illustrious line this autumn, per Osmoz very soon. The latest information wants Fille en Aiguilles to launch 1st of July and Fourreau Noir on 1st September 2009.
Fourreau Noir will be exclusive to Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris (75 ml, 110 €) in the familiar bell-jars that stack up on the purple and black shelves. After the floral intermezzo of Nuit de Cellophane [click for review] Lutens returns to a decidedly Lutensian composition: somber yet sensuous, revealing notes of tonka bean and lavender, with musk, almond and lightly smoky accents. The composition of Fourreau Noir is dark, silky and deep and ties with the darker heroines which have so inspired Serge Lutens in the past. After Serge Noire [click for review] which was inspired by the black serge material which has been used for clothing for so long, now comes Fourreau Noir: It means "black seath", but also the petticoat garment that was used to make dresses with lower-body volume stay crisp, as staying even today in fashion parlance "en fourreau pleats". The allusion to timelessness is evident and one could liken it to perfume companies' desire to present a hint to the classicism of their compositions not destined to be ephemera (although Guerlain's La Petite Robe Noire was nothing but!)

Fille en Aiguilles (girl on needles/on pins, a wordplay also on theFrench idiom "de fil en aiguille", ie. one thing leading to another) will be available in the export oblong bottles with a black label, signifying haute concentration (like the rest of the black label line compared to the beige label which are regular Eau de Parfum concentration). It will be sold in the usual suspects who carry Serge Lutens export bottles. (50 ml, 95 €) The fragrance humourously plays upon connotations of aiguilles which means needles in French, denoting either the character &mood of said fille or the pine needles which seem to be hiding in the core of the composition. Fille en Aiguilles will blend notes of vetiver, incense, fruits, pine needles and spices in a luminous woody oriental formula. Despite the name Fille en Aiguilles is easily lent to masculine wearing, an idea which is very simpatico to Serge Lutens who pioneered the concept of shared fragrances in the niche sector.

Adding: A full review of Fille en Aiguilles has been uploaded now here. A full review of Fourreau Noir has been uploaded now on this link.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news and reviews

Notes info and pic via Osmoz, Rita Haywroth in Gilda via paristreatyredux.blogspot.com.

Mythology Series: the Oak Tree

On occasion of the celtic lunar calendar day of the oak which is on the 10th of June, today I am grabbing this chance to introduce a new feature, the Mythology Series, which will fuse folklore, poetry and some of the most prevalent myths concerning aromatic plants.

The oak tree with its bittersweet timbre has been a symbol of stability and silent might ever since antiquity. It therefore comes as little surprise that it was attributed to Zeus, the mightiest of Gods. In Dodona, the sacred place of Zeus’s worship, where every summer ancient Greek tragedies and comedies are performed anew in its open-air amphitheater, oak trees that seem like they have been growing since the dawn of time reign supreme. Their leaves were crowning the winners of the drama competitions and the chariot races in the glorious past. Today they cast their welcome shade to the weary traveler who has been up the creek towards the ancient oracle, the second in importance in the whole Mediterranean after that of Thebes in Egypt. Legend wants it that two eagles, hatched out of the same egg, flew over the sea; one of them descended in Thebes, the other in Dodona, thus affirming the regal choice of these places of worship.

Contemplating the oak tree, one is transfixed by its hefty circumference, the long-extending branches full of wide leaves, the rough texture of the bark and the lichen that attracts itself on it (Evernia Prunastria or simply oakmoss), of which perfumery has justifiably occupied itself for long. It suffices to catch a hint of that mossiness in famous chypre perfumes like Dior’s Miss Dior, Cabochard by Gres, Carven’s Ma Griffe and Chanel No.19 to realize how the grandeur of the oak tree is lending a facet of that characteristic to the ambrosial parasite.

Conversely it is the fruit of the oak tree, βαλανίδι, which has been fed to swine for centuries as cheap supplement to their diet, and even the divinely favoured Ulysses had to witness his companions feed upon them when they were transformed by Circe into said domestic animals. The fuzzy green balls crack open under the nail with a surprising bitter herbal scent to later reveal the more familiar nutty aspects. And the association with might must not have escaped those who onomatized the inner edge of a male organ as βάλανος/balanos (etymologically derived from βαλανίδι)!

In celtic mythology oak stands as a gateway between worlds, or alternatively the vantage point where portals could be erected, while in Norse mythology it is connected to the warlike god Thor. But even in modern lore, oak has never lost its symbolic resonance that ties it with quiet power and mighty dominion. In Gone with the Wind, the tranquil, gentile mansion of Ashley Wilkes and his bride-to-be Melanie, where Scarlett is turned down thus catapulting the plot, is fittingly named Twelve Oaks. Throughout the novel it acts as the idealized place of refuge from the constant turmoil that the war has brought into the lives of the heroes and contrasts with the more cheerful Tara; the latter plantation like the female protagonist comes through thanks to its adaptive powers. When the old and majestic Twelve Oaks crumbles, it takes forever with it the dreams of the old, secure way of life for Ashley and Melanie...

In perfumery oak wood extract can be used to bring aspects of the imposing feeling of the oak tree into woody fragrances for men or women. with dry, liqueur-like accents. Now that oakmoss essence has been heavily rationed and synhetic approximations like Evernyl do not give an adequate substitute, oak wood extract, although less green and mossy, or even fougère-tinged is increasingly used, coupling especially well with wine accents, fruity scents and reinforces vanilla notes. This is how Serge Lutens used it in his Paris exclusive Chêne (French for oak) and in Miel de Bois. Baldessarini Ambré for men is another scent which exploits those facets to good effect. Oak also makes an ilusionary appearence as a top note, interestingly enough, in Eau de Merveilles by Hermès!

A fragrance which plays upon all aspects of the oak tree is Roxana Villa’s Q, a botanical artisanal scent by Roxana Illuminated Perfume, that is dedicated to the endemic oak population of the Californian woods with Q standing for Quercus, the botany name for oak tree (quercus robur). From root to kernel and from branch to bark, Q is anchoring and centering like only an afternoon below the shade of an imposing oak can be. But most importantly, part of the profits goes into the California Oak Foundation preserving that oak population, so that future generations can be ensured of a comparable experience. (You can find Q for sale here).
And when I try to recreate the austere atmosphere of the holy oaks at Dodona, I fall back on burning the old reliable Oak/Chêne candle by Diptyque, whose scent transports my spirit into a land of forever-living lore.

Pic of River Kalamas in Ioannina perfecture, Greece, via ellopos.org

Back with news...

Tired but stimulated and with several suprises to share with you during the course of the following days. For the moment however I have to let you know that the derisive Miel de Bois by Serge Lutens, after rumours and speculation to its potential demise which we discussed on this venue, is formally taking the road into the Exclusives line, that is the bell jars at Les Salons du Palais Royal which can be purchased only in Paris. Fans of its phenylacetic acid derived honey/urine note with no access to those are therefore advised to stock up!
L'Artisan Pafumeur on the other hand is issuing a second 100% natural and Ecofert approved organic fragrance after Eau de Jatamansi. Céline Ellena created Côte d'Amour which debuts in May. This time the inspiration has been the Breton coastline with its nostalgic Breton-top evocations (so Chanel, huh?) and the seascape smell with the iodine ambience of the sea air. Notes include: salty, hesperidic and woody accord, mandarin, pink grapefruit, rosemary, immortelle/everlasting flower, cypress, broom, rose, heather, gorse flowers, maritime pine.

The next post will be really meaty and provide a little controversy. Stay tuned!

Serge Lutens Nuit de Cellophane: fragrance review (and a draw!)

The breakdown of a new fragrance by Serge Lutens often resembles an exercise in Sibyllic prose deciphering. As announced a while ago, the newest Lutens oeuvre is built on a floral pattern and bears the surrealistic name Nuit de Cellophane (ie.Cellophane Night). Much fanfare had been consequently made on how the elusive, cryptic meaning of the text by Lutens would effectively line with the actual scent of the new creation. The nocturnal character of the little tale can only be brought to life through the realisation that those are night-blooming flowers, exuding their best under the veil of night. But the mysterious, the dangerous or the arcane have been eschewed for a luminous composition that is poised between the commercially celebrated and the expectedly orthodox. Canonical in the Lutens portfolio however Nuit de Cellophane is definitely not, in the sense that the sequestered feature of most of his visions is the inclusion of a bit of deliberate ugliness; jarring and mismatched yet generating subliminal beauty. To quote a commentator on Pascal Bruckner's comparable opus "the ability to induce a feeling of attraction, lust and temptation for things which would otherwise seem repulsive, outrageous or disgusting". Serge Lutens and his combatant "nose" Christ Sheldrake have successfully managed to make the bizarre (Serge Noire), the uncanny (Tubéreuse Criminelle, Mandarine Mandarin), the somputous (Vétiver Oriental, Muscs Koublaï Khan ) and the peculiar (Douce Amere, El Attarine, Cèdre) seem alluringly otherwordly like a savant figure in a world of duds and to entice us into not only being intellectually awed but actively clutched into their olfactory tentacles with no hope for escape. What is the truth for the rupture with this tradition of 45 scents so far, fortunately refreshed just last year by the introduction of not one, but two polarising scents under the spell of which I fell instantly?

It might have to do with the hermetically shrouded kind of collaboration that entails Chris Sheldrake's input in the range's compositions, as he has been weaned back at Chanel although allowed to continue to work for Lutens. It might also have to do with the opressively pessimistic climate shaping the market right now which bodes dark clouds that need a much sought after silver lining to give momentary ease of mind to the average consumer: Not impossible, but not very probable either as the scent has been the object of adjustments during the previous two years as per Lutens' own admission. It might even have to do with a retrogade desire of niche firms en masse to sneak up on the seasoned pefumephile who has been expecting a heavy artillery orientalised baba ghanoush spiced within an inch of its life and is instead served a mandarin and orange blossom cordial that quenches the common thirst a treat.
"The name evokes Paris before the war", intimated Serge Lutens. "It's almost an insult, a shock, a name that communicates the idea of pleasure but also of chic", he continued. With Nuit de Cellophane, Serge wanted to "enter the universe of nuances". This leaves me wondering whether he deems the previous fragrances in the canon as lacking of nuance, but I am leaving peripheral matters out in my eagerness to dwelve into the composition itself.

In Nuit de Cellophane Serge Lutens unfolds a fruity floral sympony of what seems like the tartness of mandarin, the lushness of champaca and some joyful jasmine, hiding its natural indolic glory in mock-demureness, extracted from the flower in a gust of "clean" volatility. A white rose note of great balance with shades of fruitiness is emerging amidst the other blossoms ~aerated, transparent, seen through the clear crisp "window" of cellophane. The scent of osmanthus is not realistically rendered in the apricoty-suede-like tonality it renders to other compositions like Osmanthus Intedite. (I am however holding out on the possibility of its blooming more convincingly in the hot weather ahead). The overall sensuality is subtle, hushed and too discreet in the form of creamy sandalwood and possibly a smidge of civet combined with "clean" synthesized musks. It took me a while to shake off the mind-proding disturbance of alarming familiarity with a commercial fruity floral I have known and it only dawned on me upon Octavian's likening it to Dior's J'adore L'Absolu (a beautifully crafted composition that is superior to the competent and pretty J'adore). My mind had veered into less sophisticated directions initially, despite Grain de Musc's enthusiastic rapture. I admit that like Beige by Chanel before it, it is pretty, will probably be one of the most wearable and popular in the Lutens line and not at all an bijou de plastique like feared going by the name alone. But is it really beautiful? The much needed soupçon of weird Lutensian ugliness is sorely missing I'm afraid...

Nuit de Cellophane by Serge Lutens is available in Eau de Parfum concentration in the standard oblong bottle of 50ml/1.7oz as part of the export line launching in March 2009 at the US (at the usual suspects carrying the Lutens portfolio). It's already available in Paris for 79 euros.

Two more fragrances by Serge Lutens will be announaced in the course of 2009.

One lucky reader will receive a sample of Nuit de Cellophane!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens Fragrance Reviews & News

Brigitte Bardot pic from Henri-Georges Clouzot's film "La Vérité" via mooninthegutter blog
Bottle pic via velduftende.com

More news on Nuit de Cellophane by Serge Lutens

As always the news of an upcoming scent by Serge Lutens have the perfume community wrapped up in anticipation, so it is a pleasure to present some more info on Nuit de Cellophane by Serge Lutens, courtesy of the eminable Elisabeth de Feydeau who has been attending a pre-sniff at the snow-covered, silent Salons du Palais Royal abode. Elisabeth poetically referred to a Little Red Riding-Hood fairy tale of petrified wolves, non threatening and sage, while the steps sounded on the vast hall, breath held with anticipation for the new opus. And then it reveals its stars like nuggets of matte gold, ringing without harshness; warmth returns and colours reanimate: yellow, orange, pearly white, iridiscent apricot. The scent seemed to her like caressing silk crêpe or abandoning ones' self to the softness of peach skin. All this is evoced by this "cellophane night" whose denoument is conjured by the ever fertile imagination of Serge Lutens:

"The night comes to light, revealing its stars.
Evening butterflies dance in their hefty, velvet way around the lanterns.
The inhabitants of the shades, crickets and madmen, all send their own SOS.
-Miss, will you kindly wrap all this in cellophane!
-Is it a gift, sir?
-Yes, indeed; a gift for you!"

The fragrance swirls, avoiding shrill tones. Asian jasmine has the fruity touch of osmanthus with a stolen hint of mandarin peel. Nothing too sweet, but suave and soft, rendered by myrrh and sandalwood. Animal notes, like civet and castoreum, meow on the skin. Elisabeth is categorically enthusiastic on the treatment, urging us to grab it if possible, as Serge Lutens entertains himself once more by leading us from the nose while he goes off to other stories to be told on another day: "nothing ferocious, a wild thing without the talons, sensuality without fierceness; good accords producing wholesome alliances".

Myrrh and mandarin have been treated to magnificent results in La Myrrhe, civet and jasmine are the heart of Sarrasins. Personally this salivating description of Nuit de Cellophane has me dreaming of the following magnificent Asian- inspired clip:



Rumours want the public launch date to shift to March. We will revert with a full review as soon as possible!


EDIT TO ADD: You can now read my full-on review of Nuit de Cellophane following this link.



Pic and original info via E.d Feydeau. Adaptation in English by Helg, please provide link-back if you need to quote me.

Serge Lutens news: Chergui and Feminite du Bois widely available

"The perfume Chergui, which has been available exclusively from the Shiseido Palais Royal Salons in Paris since 2001, will be launched more generally in 2009 on both the French and the international markets. After Ambre Sultan and Fleurs d’Oranger, Chergui is the third exclusive scent to join the prestigious ‘Collection des Parfums Serge Lutens’. 1.7 oz., 79 euros".
Available wherever the Lutens export range is sold.

The old trusty standby Féminité du Bois, overseen by Serge Lutens and composed by Chris Sheldrake for Shiseido in 1992, was getting truly scarce on counters stateside (where it was pulled from in 2002)especially in the Eau de Parfum concentration (there is also an Eau Timide). Its mysterious, fruity-incense-y cedarwood laced with spice was the basis on which the Bois series of the Salons de Palais Royal by Shiseido began, offering four variations on the theme: Bois de Violette, Bois et fruits, Bois et musc and Bois oriental. Its scarcity had been lamented by many.
Féminité du Bois now joins the export line in the same oblong bottles of 50ml/1.7oz and will be available at the places that regularly stock the Lutens line at corresponding prices. This is not strange as the American market is second to France in consuming Lutens products (Italy is following suit).
Seeing as Féminité du Bois is still available in Europe in its curvaceous purple-brown bottle, it is left to be settled whether that edition will be pulled making the old bottles rare collectibles or whether the export oblong bottles are mainly destined for the American market. Usually such relaunches mean either reformulation or a licencing disrupture with the previous distributor. We will see soon enough.
The new bottle version is available at Senteurs d'Ailleurs for 80 euros.


Info/pics via Osmoz and Senteurs d'Ailleurs.

New Serge Lutens: Nuit de Cellophane (Night of Cellophane)

"Serge Lutens’ new fragrance, Nuit de Cellophane, will be launched in January 2009… Nothing is known as of yet about its composition – according to rumors, it could be based on the osmanthus blossom, whose apricot-suede facets are almost already a perfume in themselves. Is cellophane an allusion to transparence (which isn’t the predominant characteristic of lutensian compositions), or to the source of the material, wood (cellophane is manufactured with cellulose, the main constituent of wood)?" Thus muses Denyse Beaulieu who had the scoop.

What an intriguing and out there name, don't you agree? Cellophane is not exactly what one associates with fragrance, unless we're thinking of the outer packaging of course! Its allusion to the tactile is at odds with the olfactory, yet the protection of the cloak of the night being compared to a cellophane wrap that doesn't let anything out or anything in is poetic in its own terms. Cellophane was discovered by Dr Jacques Edwin Brandenberger, when the idea for a clear and protective packaging layer came to him in 1900, sourcing it via regenerated cellulose. Its low permeability to air, oils, grease, and bacteria is perhaps the reason why it evokes images of clinical austerity to our mind and why it's supremely fit for packaging food. Which poses another interesting question: Will Lutens use the concept to introduce an innovative gourmand that will juxtapose elements of woodiness to elements of culinary notes? Or will he eschew our preconceptions altogether to give a glimpse of osmanthus flowers through the diaphanous crispness of a protective -and rather fetishy- florist's crisp wrap?

Judging by his recent excellent releases, El Attarine and Serge Noire, the anticipation is high. This one looks to be an export fragrance too, judging by the time frame. We're only one month away from finding out for ourselves!

EDIT TO ADD on 12/11: Preliminary whiffs confirm it is indeed osmanthus-based, rather mainstream for a Lutens fragrance, beautiful and fresh. We will return with a full review as soon as sufficient quantity ends on our lap.

EDIT TO ADD on 2/11: Read my full review of Nuit de Cellophane clicking this link.

Thanks to my friend Denyse (Grain de musc) for the news.

Pic by Tim Walker for a Vogue shoot, courtesy of telegraph.co.uk.

Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens: fragrance review

Sporadically one comes across a perfume composition that is perplexing yet enthralling like a chameleon actor who manages to marry opposites, hiding a little cruelty under a suave façade.
Serge Lutens has made history in producing influencial "chef d'oeuvres". His Vétiver Oriental, although not extrapolating the oriental zenith that other fragrances in his line accomplish in a more assured way, such as El Attarine , Arabie or Douce Amère, is stunning nevertheless. The reason is as much aesthetic as it is intellectual: I cannot shake the impression that the task of scaling down, of attenuating the formula to the richness and sumptuousness of the material's roots is an algebric challenge, a piano étude aimed at perfecting a specific agilité that is not in tune with the Lutensian way of usual opulence.
And yet...and yet the result speaks in hushed, nocturnal voices of a decadent drawl; a few chiseled citrusy consonants, a little rubbery-smoky with the rosiness of gaiac wood, surprisingly sweet-spoken licorice-like (deriving from lots of anisaldehyde) with the earthy bitter edge of dry cocoa and loads and loads of polished woods, almost laminated. The natural earthiness of vetiver is heavily flanked by this strange bittersweet idea which was accordingly used in tandem with patchouli in Bornéo 1834 to magnificent results. The quiet plush of balsams and resins (perhaps Peru balsam?) and animalic-like ladbanum elements bring the recollection of warm skin not stripped of its natural oils through the use of perfumes and deodorants, a tad salty. There are some common elements with Le Baiser du Dragon by Cartier which uses vetiver in an orientalised composition of amaretto hints and a tropical white flower in order to cut through the sweetness.

However if the onomatopœia is anything to go by, Serge Lutens and his trusty cohort Christopher Sheldrake, fooled us into believing this is a vetiver-sounding fragrance: it is not and therein lies its strength or weakness. Contrary to the painful pureness of Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle, Vétiver Oriental goes for the trajectory of the root, inviting a Guess Who? game like the late Theresa Duncan used to say; veering into the quasi-gourmand makes it a fabulous amuse-guele but somehow too much as a main course. Nevertheless, this is the time of year when it naturally shines its golden viscosity: the crisp weather brings out all its velvety attributes while its exceptional lasting power and moderate sillage are welcome comforts.

My friend Gaia wrote:"What I'm getting is a feeling of a dark jungle, exotic and wild. As it unfolds its beauty, you also sense the danger that lurks just behind, tempting you to go in deeper". If Vetiver Oriental is indeed a lion in the jungle, then it is the emaciated Scar with his almond shaped green eyes lowly roaring in silvery tones "a shining new era is tiptoeing nearer; just listen to teacher".

Notes for Vetiver Oriental: sap, musk, sandalwood, Iris Pallida, undergrowth notes, amber, chocolate, rockrose labdanum, vetiver, gaiac wood, mosses.

Vetiver Oriental is a Palais Royal Paris exclusive created in 2002 contained in the characteristic bell-shaped jars. It was released for export for a limited time only for winter 2004 in the refined, sparse rectangular bottle. It has now reverted back to exclusive status.

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.

Jeremy Irons pic via Getty images, bottle pic via Les Salons du Palais Royal

Travel Memoirs: Paris, part 2 ~L'Artisan, Serge Lutens, Frederic Malle

by guest writer Elysium

Since the first pioneering experiments by small artisanal brands like L’Artisan Parfumeur and Diptyque thirty years ago, the phenomenon called niche perfume has really blossomed. The small companies are now big names, their new releases once unnoticed are now highly anticipated. Being in Paris, I could not miss the chance to pay a visit to some of those who brought new ideas into a traditional craft and paved the way for the others.

There are several L’Artisan Parfumeur boutiques in Paris (in the 1er, 4eme, 7eme, 9eme and 16eme arrondissements). The one I visited is located at the banks of the Seine, a stone's throw from the Louvre Museum.
The boutique was minimalistically decorated yet stylish, using exactly the same concept as their perfume creations. Once inside, the first thing that meets the eye was the wall with their Harvest creations. Upon asking the friendly SA, I was told that the perfumers at the L’Artisan Parfumeur were at that time still working hard to find the suitable harvests to make the next one in the series. Moving a few steps towards the inner part of the shop there was a table with temporary decorations, highlighting scents that were especially suited for the season.

The diversity L’Artisan Parfumeur represents makes it easy for everyone to find something; if no perfume this time, then maybe a lovely amber ball for the home? And when you are tired of smelling perfumes, take a seat in the cozy couch and have some rest.

Only one place can match Guerlain’s ability to attract perfumistas to Paris ~the location Palais-Royal is indeed more than suitable for the royalty of niche perfume houses. Since its opening in 1991, Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido, or commonly called Serge Lutens, has not lost any of its mystery, largely due to the fact that only press is allowed to take photos inside the salon. Assisted by Google Maps I ended up at the backside of the boutique, but with some help of a written note on the glass window I managed to find the correctly entrance in the end. The first time one enters the Serge Lutens salon one is bound to make a theatrical pause: it is decorated solely in black and violet, with flourished decoration that yet whispers of pure elegance. Indeed, high-contrast is Ariadne’s thread through everything Mr. Lutens has ever touched: his photographs, his paintings, his makeup creations, his perfumes and his salon. Many of the previous limited-edition bell jars can be viewed, and a stair in the middle of the boutique leading to the unknown crowns the entire magical atmosphere. Presprayed test blotters are placed beside the perfume bottles and if you find any perfume particularly interesting you are very welcome to make skin tests. The exclusive range coming in the so called bell jars is of course the highlight of the visit, but be careful not overdosing your nose with these innocent beauties. Unfortunately Serge Lutens does not make any liquid samples of their exclusive range; however the staff readily gives you a set of wax samples to bring home. As for the export range liquid samples are available, but most often they can only be obtained with purchases. I myself took the advice of Luca Turin and “boldly demanded Bois de Violette” and ended up with another pretty bag in my hands.

Comparing to the slightly austere feeling at Serge Lutens, the Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle boutique on 37 Rue Grenelle was much more relaxed. It is minimalistically decorated with a touch of high tech. On the elegant wood paneled walls hang framed photographs of all the perfumers that have contributed to the Frédéric Malle brand. This is a company which puts the brains behind the fragrances into focus, giving the masters the credit they deserve. Therefore the Frédéric Malle line stands for creativity and diversity, ranging from the purest tuberose soliflore (Carnal Flower) to the most complex musk (Musc Ravageur); high quality is the only thing uniting them. You can either freely play with the perfumes by yourself, or you can also step into one of the special designed smelling boots to feel a scent surrounding you. Except for the testers all the perfumes are placed inside refrigerators, to keep them at constant temperature. At the time of my visit I knew a new Frédéric Malle perfume was coming out (Dans tes Bras). Naturally I had to ask the lady working in the boutique about it, only a small test bottle was available for the inquisitive one to sample. Since at the time Dans tes Bras was not officially released, the lady curiously asked me how I knew about it, at which prompt I happily took the chance to avdertise the perfume blogosphere.

Paris would not be Paris without the great variety of choices; the last part of this travel story will be devoted to a few hidden gems among the Parisian perfumeries. That’s all for now...

You can read Part 1 of Paris Memoirs clicking here

Shopping Guide:
L'Artisan Parfumeur: 2 Rue de l'Admiral de Coligny, Paris, Phone: +33 01-4488-2750.
32 Rue du Bourg Tibourg 75004 Paris, Phone : 01.48.04.55.66

Salons du Palais-Royal Shiseido, Serge Lutens: 142 Galerie de Valois-25 Rue de Valois, 1er arrondissement Louvre/Tuileries, Paris. Metro station: Palais-Royal. Car access: 25 Rue de Valois. Phone: +33 01-49-27-09-09 Fax: +33 01-49-27-92-12 (open Monday to Saturday, 10am to 7pm)Map here

Editions des Parfums Frederic Malle: 37 rue de Grenelle, 7e, St-Germain-des-Pres, Paris Phone: +33 01-42-22-76-40 Metro: Rue du Bac
{Other locations: 140 av. Victor Hugo, 16e, Trocadero/Tour Eiffel, Paris, +33 01-45-05-39-02, Metro: Victor Hugo. 21 rue du Mont Thabor, 1er, Louvre/Tuileries, Paris, +33 01-42-22-77-22, Metro: Tuileries}

See a Google map of perfumeries/perfume & beauty shopping in Paris on this link (printable)

Pics copyrighted by Elysium (with the sole exception of the Lutens interiors where photography taking isn't allowed), not to be reproduced without permission.

El Attarine by Serge Lutens: fragrance review

“The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.” ~Job 28:19

The golden glory of sunrise over the beige stones of the Merenid tombs overlooking Fez has nothing on El Attarine by Serge Lutens, nor do the riches of Arabia as it encompasses them all in its majestic stride.
"Today, I offer you gold, sun-drenched topaz, everlasting flowers and saps", Lutens and Sheldrake, his magician in the wings, had promised us and this solar fragrance has been most successfully achieved in El Attarine.

"In Arab countries, “attarin” means sweet-smelling, and refers to everything within the realm of the atar: fragrance, heart, flavour and essence". Attars recall the mysteries of the east, its people and the rituals in which they engage. The mingling of smell and taste is not unheard of in the Lutens/Sheldrake cosmos, as both Douce Amère and Mandarine Mandarin are impressions of gustatory speciments (absinthe and mandarin respectively) that reveal side panels of aromas like in a Byzantine triptych ~"Attarine is not a closed door. You cannot make a perfume with only your nose".

El Attarine is also the name of a regal, elite Koranic school in Fez dating from the 14th century: Medersa or Medressa El Attarine, (Medersa means religious school) thus the fragrance is another homage to the Arabic culture that has been providing Lutens with inspiration for the last 2 decades at least. Created in 1325 by Sultan Ya’qub Abu Said Uthman II who also had a hand in several other buildings around the city of Fez, El Attarine is situated at the edge of the spice and perfume market; the unison of carnal to spiritual is only a stone's throw away.

El Attarine, the fragrance by Lutens, bursts like the solar corona of an eclipse that is infused in the honeyed tones of the nectar of orange blossoms. This honey note, probably attributed to phenylacetic acid, which makes a much more pronounced appearence in the derisive Miel de Bois, is here giving an intense sweetness of drops dribbling from a bronze spoon on dried fruits; fruits that lay on a basket at the market under clear blue skies, alongside little squares of heaped spices in all the colours of the rainbow: there is a little cumin, very delicately interwoven, and stamens of red saffron, the very delicate peppery bite of poppy seeds. The milky, sweet tenderness of those nuances vaguely recalls the more intense and sweaty Arabie, with its souk ambience on a hot day. The garlands of jasmine fanned out on woody notes are discreet, as if a glimpse behind a closing shutter leaving us wondering on the surreptitious inhabitants.

And then, after about half an hour, there rises the olfactory focus of immortelle/helychrisum, more commonly known as everlasting flower, aimed at offering a new interpretation that will set a new frontier in fragrance exploration. Both facets of the material, essence and absolute seem to have been utilized: With a complex odour profile, immortelle is a fascinating note with a herbaceous, honey-like aroma in the essential oil whereas it recalls the unique odour of spicy fenugreek (Trigonella Foenum Graecum) in the absolute, imparting amazing lasting power and evoking maple syrup for many. In El Attarine the immortelle note is less maple-like, less sticky than Annick Goutal's archetype in Sables and with less of a curry, salty-pungent note than Eau Noire by Dior. Rather it has the slightly bitter, pleasurable edge also present in L de Lolita Lempicka minus the cinnamon lappings; it offsets alongside a smidge of what smells like medicinal "oud" (a pathogenic secretion of some trees in the Far East) the initial intense sweetness into a progression than holds your attention span for the twists through the alleyways of Fez.

Like the Gettys lying on a starlit terrace in Marrakesh, beautiful and damned and a whole generation assembled as if for eternity where the curtain of the past seemed to lift before an extraordinary future, before the disillusionment and the tragic end set in, El Attarine is a re-affirmation of a passionate relationship with both the past and the future.
El Attarine possesses that most elusive of qualities: luminous translucence which can make a fragrance appear like a faceted gem mounted in 22 carat gold: it catches every ray of the sun as it hits it from different angles into a magnificent study of light. In contrast to the byzantine candelabras of Serge Noire, casting shadows amidst the light, El Attarine is melting under the intense sun of a terrible dawn.

In a Parthian Shot, Serge left us with this cryptogram: "It is an accord born out of a disagreement in the first person. From my attarinian solitude, the fruits of my imagination were abundant".
It is up to you to participate into its solution by trying out El Attarine.
The fragrance is quite lasting but with a rather discreet sillage that shouldn't pose any problems to those who are in your vicinity.

El Attarine belongs to the line of Exclusives sold only in the Salons du Palais Royal in Paris, encased in beautiful bell jars of 75ml.

Pic of Talitha and Paul Getty at The Pleasure Palace in Marrakech, shot by P.Lichfield in 1969 ~reproduced via Telegraph.co.uk. Pic of Limited Edition bottle courtesy of El Attarine via Ambre Gris. Pic of sunrise sent to me by mail unacredited.