Serge Lutens L'Eau Froide: new fragrance

When Lutens launched L’Eau Serge Lutens, in 2010, he didn't mince his words: ‘When I presented L’Eau to my team, I felt like Saint Just informing the nobles they were going to lose their privileges.’ The concept behind L'Eau by Lutenswas interesting to analyse, even if the reality of the fragrance was lukewarm to hard-core Lutens fans such as myself. Now, he's following up with a second "Eau". Who, the magus of orientalia? Apparently yes.

True to his signature blend of humor and provocation, next March the divine Serge will be presenting the follow-up: L’Eau Froide, a clear eau de parfum concentration of fragrance that will see his previous Eau joined by a similar-looking bottle. (1.7oz/50ml and 3.4 oz./100ml, 69 and 100 euros respectively at select doors stocking Lutens fragrances in March 2012).
What will Serge Lutens's upcoming fragrance L'Eau Froide smell like, though?

He only reveals frankincense aong the fragrance notes, the classic Catholic and Orthodox ecclesiastical incense note. ‘Frosty’ and ‘glacial’ are enot adjectives we tend to associate with incense (rather pyrocaustic is, although on Perfume Shrine we have devoted a whole series to different  varieties and  nuances of incense fragrances). But Serge’s response is probably what matters anyway: ‘People only notice the pyrogen facet in smoky incense burners… but not the coolness, except for the church’s.’Incidentally, Lutens is no stranger to incense in his impressive line already: Encens & Lavande takes on the ashen facets of lavender-nuanced smoke, while Serge Noire is the spicy, warm & cool contrast of serene meditation.
Back to the newest Lutens L'Eau Froide: "To begin with, it is cold, but in a nice way. Smells like rosemary, pepper… a slightly spicy-aldehyde-y effect, like bay leaves. A minty sensation too, plus a woody pinch of eucalyptus. Who knows, maybe it’s meant as a wink and a nod to Morocco’s “hammams”, or Turkish baths?" writes Nicolas Olczyk trying. it.

The bottle and the box are inscribed with iterations of coldness...cold, icy cold, frosted, transparent, crystalline, calm, ice salt, large glass of water...
I'm a firm believer in the cooling properties of unadulterated frankincense which I burn regularly: After all, the raw material shares citrusy top notes in itself, which dissipate and volatilise quickly rendering that cool smoky ambience we associate with stone temples of old.
One is quick to suppose that this "second act" might actually be an abandonded mod in the creative process of either of Serge's previous incense fragrances (or even of his L'Eau), but I can't wait to smell this aromatic interpetation of one of my favourite notes all the same. Expect a full review soon!

Photo by Fred Boisssonnas, Old Metsovo 1913, Greece, To the springs.

Serge Lutes De Profundis: fragrance review & draw

If Charles Baudelaire or Oscar Wilde (pleading with Lord Alfred Douglas from within his jail) are references both in plain view in the new Serge Lutens fragrance De Profundis, and they themselves relied on this, their posthumus reputation might be rather lacklustre. Whether it is fatigue or overfamiliarisation, the olfactory seraglio at Palais Royal has began showing signs of tiredness, despite the vivid, novel colour of the latest perfume which shines in its beautiful bell jar like a bright amethyst. You can almost hear the cry of the 130th Psalm "De Profundis Clamavi Ad Te, Domine" for all the drama in front of your eyes! Sadly, experiencing the fragrance by one's nose is underwhelming, after such build-up, promising the scent of death, no less.  
De Profundis is a piercing, sharp, dusty and at the same time aldehydic "clean" floral that petters out to woods and a little fruity violet, rather than the dark, dangerously sexy or earthy, medieval scent suggested by its apothecarial look.

Just take a look at the official ad copy (or skip it), composed in the usual cryptic style which reveals less than it suggests:

"When death steals into our midst, its breath flutters through the black crepe of mourning, nips at funeral wreaths and crucifixes, and ripples through the gladiola, chrysanthemums and dahlias.

If they end up in garlands in the Holy Land or the Galapagos Islands or on flower floats at the Annual Nice Carnival, so much the better!

What if the hearse were taking the deceased, surrounded by abundant flourish, to a final resting place in France, and leading altar boys, priest, undertaker, beadle and gravediggers to some sort of celebration where they could indulge gleefully in vice? Now that would be divine!

In French, the words beauty, war, religion, fear, life and death are all feminine, while challenge, combat, art, love, courage, suicide and vertigo remain within the realm of the masculine.

Clearly, Death is a Woman. Her absence imposes a strange state of widowhood. Yet beauty cannot reach fulfilment without crime. The chrysanthemum is the sole pretext for writing these lines.

Turning grave sites held in perpetuity over to Life – a familiar of these haunts – the chrysanthemum invites Death to leave the cemetery and offer us its flower. De Profundis clamavi." [translation by Fragrantica]

But how did we get to here? L'Eau Serge Lutens seems like a seperate entity in the canon, both in context and in smell, and for that reason was given leniency, even if it alienated much of the fan base; and while Boxeuses conversely recycled the familiar in a most pleasant way, I was rather hesitant into jumping for a full bottle of Serge's last, violent and incongruous release, Vitriol d'Oeillet. This was a first. Not jumping up & down for De Profundis, later on, sounded like sacrilege! But the expectations were set too high: Baudelaire is too much of a decadent aesthete to reference with impunity; Eros & Thanatos has been explored as an idea by scholars for millenia; and a scentscape inspired by death is a risky bet ~ the church has the patent down pat after all. Lutens took the All Saints tradition of taking chrysanthemums (autumnal flowers) to graves and span it into composing a floral that would get inspired by death.

 De Profundis olfactorily resembles a dusty, powdery yet sharp scent of herbal tea and flowers, with a smattering of honeysuckle, lily of the valley and greenish notes (green jasmine, green lily) on top; not melacholic chrysanthemums promised by the ad copy, but rather the aftermath of the funeral, despite the closeness with the autumn blossom.
What is more unexpected is that the bouquet of green floral notes very soon gives way to a "blanched" soapy musk resembling Galaxolide (but not quite! what is it?), and aldehydic nuances, reminiscent of the worst memories of L'Eau Serge Lutens and at the same time like bottled light, ozonic, lifting upwards and upwards...like a soul to the light?
Whereas the soapy concept was thick as thieves with the humorous, ironic allusion to "clean" in L'Eau as a sign of defiance in an era when perfume connoisseurs are embalming themselves in thick resins, stinky florals or bitter pharmaceutical-worthy oud notes to prove their mettle, in De Profundis the trick doesn't quite work again: The synthetic feel of the powdery note is far off the luxurious iris of Bas de Soie (which still denoted a classy sexiness) and at the same time it lacks the nuanced greyness of the majestic and unsurpassable Iris Silver Mist. Amidst it all, a fruity scent surfaces, enhanced by alpha methyl ionone (a recognisable violet note), giving a mildly sweetish, pleasant backdrop which bears a hint of familiarity with the previous Lutens fragrances. Although seemingly a loud perfume upon spraying, in its rather screechy projection upon first spray, De Profundis mellows into a soft woody skin scent which doesn't last as -usually- expected.

Evaluating a Lutens creation in less than stellar terms leaves me with a certain disillusionment, which is painful to experience. For more than 15 years, Lutens used to instantly transport me into imaginary travels atop a magic carpet which seemed to continuously unfold new motifs, to lull me into a reverie that united the mysticism of the East with the classiness and chic of the West. Perched, as I am, between two worlds, from a geographical point of view, this unison spoke deeply to my soul. I'm hoping that the line will find again its axis, but with dearest Serge reaching 70 it looks like it is a precarious, foreshadowing prospect and I find myself sitting on a church pew like a kid, confused with the world and eager to catch at straws...

Official notes for Serge Lutens De Profundis: chrysanthemum, dahlia, lily, violet, earthy notes.

Serge Lutens De Profundis comes in the familiar bell jar bottles of Eau de Parfum available only in Paris at Les Salons de Palais Royal (It's part of the exclusive line), 75ml for 120 euros. This year there will be two limited edition engraved bottles which cost significantly (significantly!) more (We're talking upwards of 1000 euros here): there will be only 7 of each bottle design for sale, reportedly.

For our readers, 2 samples of De Profundis, out of my own stash, will be given. Tell us, what would you like to smell in a "death perfume"?



Movie still of Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense by M.Night Shyamalan, Music set to the psalm 130 Arvo Pärt

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet: fragrance review & draw

"Sometimes he frets his instrument with the back of a kitchen knife or even a metal lipstick holder, giving it the clangy virility of the primitive country blues men".  This descriptor for Bob Dylan's style fits the newest Serge Lutens creation to a T: clangy, virile in a rugged way, disruptive, angry and unusual are all characteristics of Vitriol d'Oeillet (meaning vitriol of carnation); an uncharacteristic carnation fragrance which breaks the mould of old fashioned powdery florals of the start of the 20th century, offering a futurist angry woody floral. In Vitriol d'Oeillet Lutens alludes to carnation via intense, corosive pepper and lily and invites us to think of carnations of red, feisty under the intense sun of Provence, and at the same time of the London fog hiding a gentleman killer à la Jack the Ripper, who sports a carnation in his buttonhole.

There's something to be said about 19th century and its fixation with death & violence, a kind of violence beyond the funereal association so many people have with carnations. The ethereally romantic image of the era gets shattered when we read Honoré de Balzac for instance: Madame Cibot is a widow twice-over, when her husband Rémonencq accidentally consumes the chalice of vitriol he was intending for his wife (in Cousin Pons)...Oil of vitriol features in many a 19th novella, not just Balzac.
Two especially memorable scenes have the caustic sulphuric acid unceremoniously thrown on a face (the acid works by releasing acids from their salts, i.e.sulphides); namely in George Gissing's The Nether World (1889) and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Ebb-Tide (1894). Perhaps what inspired those writers into using vitriol in fiction scene stealers as an aussault (an aussault to injustice, poverty and degradation), as well as a metonym for realism (a late 19th century claim to the explosive!), is what inspired Lutens himself; a desire to break loose with preconceptions about how a carnation fragrance should be: pretty, prim, feminine, dainty? Vitriol d'Oeillet is nothing of the sort!
But there's something to be said about Vitriol being in tune with Moorish sensibilities too, of which Lutens has long been an accolyte. Blue vitriol is copper (Cu), green vitriol is iron (Fe), and white vitriol is zinc (Zn), all Hermetic references for the initiated. Sulphuric acid (historically known as 'oil of vitriol') was formerly prepared from green vitriol in a ritual that crossed into the alchemical. The Moors sold vitriol preparations as an antiseptic panaceia. There's this thing in Shi'ism called ta'wil, it's this idea where "you take anything back to its root significance, its original self". A cleanse going for the bone!

On the other hand, in late 19th century carnations were innocent, popular buttonhole flowers; Oscar Wilde was said to sport one and companies producing such fragrances were a dime a dozen, rendering the carnation soliflore a dominating fragrance trend of the Victorian era. The dandified character of carnation scents has persisted: from old-image Floris Malmaison to Roger &Gallet's ever popular ~but ultimately discontinued~ Blue Carnation all the way to modern-day retro Dianthus by Etro.

The opening of Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet is sharp, caustic as befits the name though not smelling of sulphur, without the dense powdery note that surrounds the rich floral heart of retro carnations such as Caron's Bellodgia. After all, clove, the main spicy component in creating a carnation accord in perfumery, is called clou de girofle in French, same as a pointy "nail". But despite the disruptive nails on a chalkboard of the opening of the new Lutens fragrance, the progression of Vitriol d'Oeillet softens gradually; much like Tubéreuse Criminelle hides a silken polished floral embrace beneath the mentholated stage fright. In Vitriol d'Oeillet's case Serge hides the heart of a lush lily inside the spicy mantle. Indeed it is more of a lily than a carnation fragrance, as per the usual interpretation of carnation in perfumery.

The spices almost strangle the lily notes under cruel fingers: black pepper, pimento, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, pink pepper with its rosy hue, paprika and clove; in Serge Noire and Louve the spices serve as a panoramic "lift" to the other notes, here they reinforce what was a hint in the flower. The woody backdrop of cedar is softening the base, but lovers of Serge's and Sheldrake's candied-fruit-compote-in-a-cedar-bowl will not find the sweet oriental they have grown to expect. Vitriol d'Oeillet is resolutely spicy, rendered in woody floral tonalities that only slightly turn powdery towards the very end.

To give perfume comparisons: If you have always found Secret Mélange, from Les Caprices du Dandy collection by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (a fragrance which dared to mix cold spices and flowers and harmonize the accord with warm woods) quite intriguing, you have good chances of liking the jarring nature of Vitriol d'Oeillet. So might lovers of Caron's Poivre (which is vastly superior nevertheless) or of the dark, suffused imagescape of Garofano by Lorenzo Villoresi and E.Lauder's intense Spellbound. If you were looking for a classic, dense, feminine carnation floral or a minimal contemporary treatment oif the note such as in Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, you might be scared by this violent yet diaphanous offering.

Oddly for the actual formula, since it's chartreuse liqueur which is infused with carnation petals and alchemically it is green vitriol which hides the greatest power, Vitriol d'Oeillet if of a greyish-lilac tint which looks someplace between funereal and alluringly gothic-romantic. The sillage is well-behaved, indeed subtle, perhaps because vitriol derives from the Latin vitrium, meaning glass, therefore denoting a certain transparency and lightness. Vitriol d'Oeillet is androgynous with great lasting power that seems to grow in depth, becoming a little bit sweeter and woodier as time passes.

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet belongs to the export line, available at select stockists around the world and at the official Lutens site, 95euros for 50ml of Eau de Parfum. The limited edition engraved bottles depicted cost much more.

A generous-sized decant is available for one lucky reader. Draw is now closed, thank you!

What is it you find intriguing about the concept?

Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan: fragrance review

Much has been made of Ambre Sultan's resemblance to women's odorata sexualis, the intimate scent of a woman, and although I fail to take this literally, this Serge Lutens perfume is certainly one of arousal. Lovers of this deep, devilishly suave iconoclast of a scent (which doesn't recall any of the powdery, "safe" sweet ambers you might have known before) confirm it.

And if it seems counterintuitive to think of an amber when spring is around the corner, and indeed when Lutens has just launched his newest Jeux de Peau, Ambre Sultan can surprise us; the perfect amber blend for warmer weather, blooming into something more meaningful with each sun ray that hits our hair.

According to fragrance expert Roja Dove ~journalist Hannah Betts quotes him in Let Us Spray~ this is part of a wider trend: "When the Aids epidemic hit, we wanted all the sex washed away, but perfume is returning to its semier side." Amber fragrances in general have something of Eros in them, because they try to recreate an oriental ambience that spells languor, exoticism, opulence, all conductive to a let go of the senses evocative of odalisque paintings by Eugène Delacroix or orientalia scenes by Rudolph Ernst. The most common raw materials for creating an amber "accord" (accord being the combined effect of several ingredients smelling more than the sum of their parts) are: labdanum (resinous substance from Cistus Ladaniferus or "rock rose", possessing a leathery, deep, pungently bitterish smell), benzoin (a balsam from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet) and styrax (resin of Liquidambar Orientalis tree with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon). And most ambers are usually quite sweet or powdery-hazy (particularly those which include opoponax and vanilla) which bring their own element of both comfort (a necessary part in surrendering inhibitions) and desire. Ambre Sultan has a devil may care attitude and the necessary austerity to break loose with all conventions.

The truth in the creation of Lutens's famous opus is different than the rumours, although none the less semiotically erotic. Serge Lutens was simply inspired by his forays into local Marrakech shops, full of interesting knick-knacks and drawers of pungent spices, where precious vegetal ambers are preserved in mysterious-looking jars alongside Spanish Fly. As the polymath Serge divulges: "An amalgam of resins, flowers and spices, these ambers are a praise to women's skin". This was the brief given to perfumer Chris Sheldrake and together they set on to create one of the most emblematic orientals in modern perfumery in 2000.

Interestingly enough, the pungent, sharply herbal opening of Ambre Sultan, full of bay leaf, oregano and myrtle is traditionally thought of as masculine, but it is the rounding of the amber heart via mysterious, exotic resins, patchouli and creamy woods which captures attention irreversibly and lends the scent easily to women as well. The first 10 minutes on skin are highly aromatic, like herbs and weeds roasting under a hot sun on a rocky terrain, with bay and myrtle surfacing mostly on my skin. The effect translates as spicy, but not quite; what the creators of Diptyque must have been thinking when they envisioned their own original herbal fragrances treaking through mount Athos. Next the creamier elements segue, contrasting warmth and cool, fondling the skin and at the same time hinting at an unbridled sensuality.
Although Ambre Sultan is a scent I only occassionaly indulge in (preferring the leather undercurrent of Boxeuses or the hay embrace of Chergui and the bittersweet melancholy of Douce Amère when the mood strikes for a Lutensian oriental), probably because it's rather masculine on my skin, I marvel at its technical merits each and every time: the way the creaminess never takes on a powdery aspect and how it's poised on a delicate balance between smoky and musky without fully giving in to either.
Much like Lutens is the sultan of artistic niche perfumery, Ambre Sultan is a dangerous fragrance in the pantheon of great orientals that like a possessive sheik will never let you look back...

Lovers of Ambre Sultan might enjoy other dark, non sweet or spicy blends such as Amber Absolute by Christopher Laudemiel for Tom Ford Private Blend, Creed's Ambre Cannelle (whose spice uplifts the skin-like drydown) and I Profumi di Firenze incense-trailing Ambra del Nepal. Those who would love a sweeter amber but still firmly set into the Lutens canon, can try his equally delightful Arabie with its dried figs and pinch of cumin spice.

Notes for Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan:
coriander, oregano, bay leaf, myrtle, angelica root, patchouli, sandalwood, labdanum, benzoin, Tolu balsam, vanilla, myrrh.

Ambre Sultan is part of the export line by Serge Lutens, in oblong bottles of 50ml Eau de Parfum, available at select boutiques and online stores such as the Perfume Shoppe.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news & reviews

pics via hommebraineur and rudolph valentino blog

Serge Lutens Jeux de Peau: fragrance review & draw

Horace had written* referring to his diet: "Me pascunt olivae, me cichorea, me malvae" ("As for me, olives, chicory, and mallows provide sustenance"). I don't know if I could supress my gluttony for "all the perfumes of Arabia" into a diet of only a few well-chosen ones, but Serge Lutens has a way into tempting me. Jeux de Peau, his newest (upcoming for the US) launch, is no exception. With vivid contrasts and a fascinating plot via Daedalean alleyways, it proves that the Master is still producing fragrances that can surprise and excite.


Jeux de Peau (pronounced Zø de POH) aka Skin Games, a fragrance for both genders, was supposed to smell of buttered toast, recalling Serge's quick run to the boulangerie across the road to pick up a baguette: "It gets me back to the 'don't forget to pick up the bread on the way back from school!' At the boulangerie at the end of the road, its captivating odour and its blond and warm light, a golden moment..." says Serge. Well, naughty, naughty Uncle, this is not what one would expect! The mercurial Serge actually hints at the humanity of the fragrance when he provocatively says "Eat, for this is my body"; especially if we consider that some human skins do smell like bread, the "dough" impression being a Ph variance.

Not that that this cryptic game would be unusual for any fan; in fact the fascination with the newest Lutensian opus comes exactly by its surprising character, at once a part of the Lutens-Sheldrake canon and a little apart; it's new and at the same time familiar, like seeing the photographs of antecedants and trying to pinpoint what part of the genetic roll of dice resulted in similarities with one's own offspring.
Starting to break down the composition of Jeux de Peau much talk has been conducted about the "burnt" note of pyrazines [see this lexicon on perfume effects according to notes/ingredients for definition] but I remain sceptical: Jeux de Peau doesn't really smell burnt or heavily roasted; more milky-spicy-golden in the sandalwood goodness that was Santal Blanc. It has a pronounced celery-pepper opening note, much like Chypre Rouge did, a trait that will certainly prove controversial, coupled with delectable milky-buttery notes which almost melt with pleasure on skin. The celery effect ~celery seeds were a common element in Mediaeval French cooking~ lasts for only about 5 minutes seguing into the main course: the buttery accords, alongside a distinctive, very pleasant chicory note.
Chicory, a bitterish-spicy smell, is a profoundly clever "note", if I am correct in surmissing it was the centre of the Jeux de Peau creation all along: It was substituting coffee in WWII, which might account for some of the memories of Serge, but it also evokes beer because producers add some in their stouts to lend flavour. Beer is so close to bread in olfactory terms that it's enough to put some on a pot on the stove for your guests to be fooled into thinking you're baking your own bread! (Not that you'd resort to such tricks, or would you?) Plus chicory root is 20% inulin which is very similar to starch. So the bread connection is there all right!
Immortelle/helichrysum notes (caramelic maple & spicy fenugreek facets) are allied to the familiar candied-dried fruits (apricot mainly, simply lovely!) which perfumer Chris Sheldrake has been respinning in novel and delecious combinations for Lutens ever since the inauguration of the Palais Royal niche line in 1992. This complex stage in Jeux de Peau by Lutens is sustained for a long, long time; it reminds me of rich Byzantine mosaics; tiny tesserae of glazed material surfacing and receding according to the angle from which you're viewing it.


If you like the core accords of Féminité du Bois or Boxeuses, you will probably detect them easily in Jeux de Peau. But the two diverge in other ways: there's no familiar plum, not much cedar, nor leather (as in the case of Boxeuses), while we can see that wheat & barley are evoked throughout that warm "gourmand" woody. If Serge hadn't mentioned he was inspired from his forays to the baker's clutching the baguette for home, we wouldn't be so insistent on searching for toast; a whiff of Crusader's pain au four it is and delectably so I might add.

If you're wondering if Jeux de Peau would suit you, apart from the wise advice I can offer to always sample a Lutens any fragrance ~just in case~ I can suggest that if you're a lover of other intellectual oriental woodies such as Like This by Etat Libre d'Orange or Tea for Two by L'Artisan, you have high chances of liking this one very much as well. It's rather odd that Jeux de Peau launches in spring, when it's the sort of snuggly fragrance you'd want to put on while wrapped in a cashmere blanket watching nonchalantly the logs in the fireplace change colours from brown to vermillon to bright red to ashen, but Lutensian fans are not very season-specific anyway.

A sample of the upcoming Jeux de Peau will be given away to a reader. State in the comments what is your most fragrant memory from childhood not involving actual fine fragrance and I will pick a random winner. Draw is open till Friday midnight.

Jeux de Peau belonging to the export range of oblong bottles is out in France as we speak (79 euros for 50ml Eau de Parfum), but will launch internationally on March 1st. The Perfume Shoppe in Canada is already taking pre-orders.

*Odes 31, ver 15, ca 30 BC

An intelligent essay on the scent, in French, on Ambre Gris. Photograph in black & white Le Petit Parisien by Willie Ronis via Art is not Dead. Bottle pic via duftarchiv.de
Disclosure: Initial sample was kindly procured by my reader Emanuella. Another sample was later sent by Lutens as part of their mailout, so that is given away to the readers.

"I'm a Servant to Perfume": Serge Lutens on France24

"Talking of perfume is like talking about everything. When one talks about a perfume there is usually a false story behind it. When you create a perfume it is not created for a man or a woman, it's something to be determined afterwards; it's the people who determine what it is. The sex isn't determined by perfume, choice is.

I am its servant. It's It (perfume) that I have to serve. I am its servant. If I don't serve, I'm but a merchant, making tricks with paper (blotters) like everyone does...

Perfume is not a product; it's something else, it's mystical. [...] A perfume is brilliant when it manages to create a response in itself; if it does not, what's the purpose? [...]{The business} is a vast operation...it's like Viennese waltz, it's mild and turns around and around. That is embarrassing! Before disgust, there's ennui.

If perfume becomes a discourse that is politically & sentimentally correct, it no longer holds any interest."

(NB.the translation follows the most important quotes)


thanks to Alesio Lo Vecchio for bringing it to my attention ETA: And thanks to Bela for dependable bitch-slapping spellcheck!

Serge Lutens Jeux de Peau: new fragrance

Serge Lutens is as prolific as ever and this coming March 1st another fragrance will join his olfactory seraglio in the oblong export bottles: Jeux de Peau (Zø de POH) aka Skin Games, a fragrance for both genders which reportedly smells like buttered toast! (And might even include a wheat extract we're told).
The eccentric idea of a novel gourmand (I recall the last major launch with grains notes was Simply by Clinique, although there were others) wants Serge Lutens seeking to recreate the odor of the buttered toast he enjoyed so much as a little boy! The unusual, "oriental-charred-wood scent", invites guesses as with all Lutens fragrances, while Serge himself professes in his usual controversial way, ‘Eat, for this is my body’. The Christian symbolism aside, Serge does invite personal mementos entering his fragrances which makes them all the more intriguing.
The formula like a nurturing and appetising breakfast of tartines and butter exhibits pronounced sandalwood/milky notes at the top, progressing into a "toast accord" with a few sweeter and floral facets next (reminiscent of rosewood), alongside sweeter and spicier ones such as a mix of licorice and coconut. The finish is built around a fruity touch (between apricot and osmanthus).
"It gets me back to the 'don't forget to pick up the bread on the way back from school!' At the boulangerie at the end of the road, its captivating odour and its blond and warm light, a golden moment..." says Serge. To recreate this harmony, Lutens and his perfumer have assembled dozens of essences, but also wheat and barley.

NB>I have updated with a full review of Jeux de Peau on this page.

Edit to Add:
The upcoming (export) fragrance by Lutens for summer 2011 will be called Vitriol d'Oeillet (Vitriolic Carnation) and naturally will be a carnation composition (as "oeillet" means carnation in French). The moniker Vitriol alludes to some brilliantly wicked take as the one in Tubéreuse Criminelle (Please perfume gods, make it so! Not to mention I have prayed for a carnation-spiked the Lutens way for a long time...)

Addition April 1st: The next Paris exclusive is De Profundis, coming out on September 1st inspired by Baudelaire's poems and death. De Profundis by Serge Lutens includes gladioli, chrysanthemums and dahlias in a green, almost aldehyde-like and darkly delicate fragrance, encompassing a chamomile withered peony effect.


Thanks to reader Uella who set me on the track of trademarked names to find this before any official news broke!

pics & notes via osmoz

Serge Lutens Boxeuses: fragrance review & draw

I wouldn't hesitate to think of the latest Paris exclusive fragrance by Lutens , going by the insolent name Boxeuses, as Féminité du Cuir instead. What do feminine pugilists (the true meaning of Boxeuses, pronounced box-EHz, in French) have to do with the delicate and mysterious affair of perfume? And why did Serge choose that name?

Plenty it appears and Lutens isn't one to go by conventional names anyway. This enigmatic woody leather is molded after a soft kid's leather glove that hits all the sweet spots for any ardent Lutens fan, that's why! After all French perfumery did arise through scented gloves, didn't it? Unlike the green fairy of Bas de Soie with the icy sensuality that demands kinky behaviour to unhinge itself, Boxeuses goes straight for the jugular, playing on the familiar, original codes of the Lutensian universe: violet-tinged woods, plummy fruits, somptuous spices...

To those who are intimately familiar with the Lutensian opus, Boxeuses can't fail but instantly remind them of Féminité du Bois and in fact the whole Bois series it spawned for the launch of Les Salons du Palais Royal back in 1992 (Bois de Violette, Bois et Fruits, Bois et Musc, Bois Oriental). Much like them, Boxeuses is full of the woody backdrop of Iso-E Super and violet methyl-ionones, plus a good dosage of plummy nuance redolent of Arabian desserts which perfumer Chris Sheldrake elevated beyond manière into Art. To those who are not, Boxeuses could be the love-child of a Cuir-de-Russie-type (notably Chanel's offering with its luxurious feel) due to the birch tar material anchoring it and Rochas Femme with its Prunol base; the latter in all its cuminy sexy glory, thank you very much. Of course the lineage might be de trop to mention: Féminité du Bois does owe some of its genius in the sexiness factor of Femme, but pushing the envelope further thanks to its sombre spiciness of cinnamon and cardamom which couple with woods reminiscent of a box of lead pencils; unheard of at the time.

If Cuir Mauresque (his other "leather" and this year's limited edition export of the Paris exclusives, scheduled for a late 2010 launch) recalls a "Peau d'Espagne" or Cuir Ottoman sensibility, Boxeuses is restrained enough in its opulence to be closer to a Cuir de Russie type or Tabac Blond (the pyrogenic coupling of acidulous notes and styrax with birch) and similarly genderless, despite the name. The leathery and spicy facets of Boxeuses come to the fore immediately, on one hand an anisic tinge recalling licorice and classic French perfumery, on another an incensy feel with cinnamic facets recalling Serge Noire. The sticky plum surfaces next, not sacharine but shaded with violet, rounding out the fragrance alongside smoky woods and milky soft musk with a smidge of dark cocoa, sustaining that impression with medium sillage for a long time.

To those forlorn, after the launch of Nuit de Cellophane, then L'Eau Serge Lutens and even of Bas de Soie, claiming Serge was "softening" and much like Alexander the Great allowing himself to adopt the customs & sensibilities of a completely foreign aesthetic, Boxeuses is a punch in the nose. Like Australian boxing film sensation Girlfight (2000) proclaimed, Lutens attained the unexpected through the most expected way: "Prove them wrong!"

For our readers, 5 samples of the exclusive Boxeuses will be given out of my own personal bottle. Tell us WHY this scent sings your name in the comments and I will pick 5 winners. (Draw is open till Friday 24th midnight).



Notes for Serge Lutens Boxeuses:
Birch tar, styrax, incense, spices, cade oil.

Serge Lutens Boxeuses forms part of the Paris exclusive line, available as 75ml of Eau de Parfum in the bell bottles. The packaging has been slightly changed (ever since the launch of Bas de Soie last July actually) and the bells are not sealed so as to protect contents from spillage and tampering. It retails for 120 euros at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens reviews & news, the Leather Series

Photos of female boxers via the Hulton Archive. Photo of Lutens Boxeuses bottle © by Elena Vosnaki

Do We Rely on "Rumours"? Or More?

Quite often on Perfume Shrine we break some news before they become "official" (We tag them under the label "rumour"). Before sales associates and even distributors hear about them. Before there is any corroboration from other sources. Some readers in the past have doubted some rumours, yet we have been proven correct time and again. And again. And again. Rumours which we report prematurely, often backed up with photographic proof later. Rumours which we arrive at through snippets of information from our inside connections , reportage and logical syllogisms.

Today we reply to the naysayers of last February when we first broke the news on discontinuations of several Lutens scents from the export line, therefore in essence from the international market circuit, forgive the pun. Four of them are to exit the export line of the oblong bottles, finally becoming Parisian exclusives in the beautiful "bell" shaped jars: Miel de Bois, Chypre Rouge, Santal Blanc and Douce Amère. (This seems to have been in the cards long ago, apparently, I should have seen it long ago). If you didn't stock up when you had the chance all these months ago, well, I'd hate to say we told you so. But I did.
Today I will leave the photographs do the talking...






Photos from the official Lutens page.

Serge Lutens Bas de Soie: fragrance review

With his newest fragrant offering to the Gods, Serge Lutens invades the territory of Chanel. In lewd terms "Lutens does Chanel"! Simply put, his Bas de Soie (pronounced BA-de-SWAH) will help establish a new audience who have been hankering after new territories of upscale refinement, but will also challenge his older acolytes to engage in combat with new elements which they considered "stuffy" for long. An encomium to iris and hyacinth, Bas de Soie had me perplexed for several days after I broke into my preview sample, which is why I took my while to post a full review after announcing the news of its introduction a while back.

Baptizing fragrances with tactile, fabric-reminiscent names, as was Serge Noire and Fourreau Noir, is not a new game for Lutens. In this case the name is erotically charged as it translates as "silk stockings". The feeling of Bas de Soie is not sexualized however, but eroticized; there is a difference. Picture the repressed, frigid sexuality of bourgeois doctor's wife Catherine Deneuve in classic film Belle de Jour; she needs the compulsion of the underground, afternoon bordello in order to blossom into sensuousness and have an illicit lover with flawed teeth by the name of Marcel. Yes, I know, the flacon Severine has in her bathroom (and accidentally smashes) is Mitsouko, its own connotations enriching the viewer's thought process (You can read our own take in the article The Agony & Ecstacy: Control & Surrender in Fragrances). But the celebrated Roger Vivier and Yves Saint Laurent attire of respectability (see this spot-on analysis of her feet) recalls Bas de Soie more than that "doomed love affair scent" by Guerlain. The mere mention of that film sounds ~by 2010 blogging standards~ cliché, as it has been dragged through the mud to reference myriads of scents & associations. But never before had I felt that it was merited like it is now... What Serge Lutens himself says about it? ‘This fragrance strikes a fine balance between hyacinth and iris, which intermingle. It's a black mass where dark guipure encounters white lace, in a union that involves smocking the stocking with silk.’

This new Lutens Bas de Soie is crepuscular, silvery fresh, reminiscent of Iris Silver Mist in its unapologetic sexless positioning; although not quite, the former's greenness being less invasive than the nitriles in the latter (plus Bas de Soie feels like it smells of iris Pallida more convincingly). To expand the simile I made in the beginning, "Lutens does Chanel", besides the lewd implications that might infer, the effect isn't that far fetched; or less perversely appealing: After all, the man behind the jus, perfumer Chris Sheldrake, whose alma mater was Chanel, is indeed again working at Chanel after many years, his tenure still allowing him to continue the wondrous collaboration with the virtuoso of Le Palais Royal. The core of the Bas de Soie composition would indicate a bulbous, undergrowth smell fit for chthonian, Eleusinian deities; after all both orris and hyacinth come from undergrowth (one is a rhizome, the other a bulb). Yet it presents itself decidedly above the ground and into an expensive salon where pearls glimmer down long, ivory necks flanked by beige-blonde hair, and ivory terry cloth hides delicate shoulders.


The iris in Bas de Soie is dry, soapy rather more than powdery, retro starched instead of rooty (he explored this "starched" idea recently with the anti-perfume L'Eau Serge Lutens), with the expansive feel of luminous silver tentacles engulfing you, much like they do in Chanel No.19, 28 La Pausa and to a lesser degree Cristalle in Eau de Parfum (which use natural orris butter). The molecules giving iris its character of coolness are called irones and this feels like an irone-rich composition.
The hyacinth is subdued, not tremendously "oily" or warm like it can be (its cinnamic facets usually giving a peppery jolt) or even "romantic" like we know it from Chamade or Grand Amour. Instead what I smell is lightly metallic, soapy-sweet, the way orris fragrances can take a nuance of violets sometimes, with a wink to Balmain's Ivoire and a galbanum-substitute/artemisia top note. You'd be hard pressed to recognise specific flowers within the composition: rose or peony perhaps seem apparent to my nose, their soapier-citric facets exalted in favour of their sweeter, warmer, liqueur-like ones.

The cool "clean" and creamy drydown (musks and pale woods with a wink to Infusion d'Iris by Prada) confirm that this is an atypical Lutens which eschews the spice bazaar and the resinous mysticism he has familiarized us with for so long, in order to introduce a new direction of cool composure and aloof pedigree.

Tenacity is good and sillage is medium. I allow myself to be even more thrilled by the leathery Boxeuses, the Paris-exclusive which will launch in September 2010 as announced here, but Bas de Soie is something I'd wear with pleasure and yes, cool composure.

Bas de Soie is part of the export line, an Eau de Parfum in the standard oblong bottles of the Lutens line, available from the usual suspects on August 1st according to the official info (some take pre-orders). The limited edition bottle (depicted) shows a pair of crossed legs sketched, wearing...silk stockings of course.

Pics from the 1967 film by Luis Buñuel Belle de jour starring Catherine Deneuve, via frederika.canalblog.com, ctache.blogspot,leopoldphotos & hazardousoperation both on Photobucket. Bottle photo uploaded by HighMaintenanceGirl on MUA.

Serge Lutens Clair de Musc: Fragrance Review

Contrasting Clair de Musc to heavy-lidded, grimy and intimate Muscs Kublaï Khan by the same house, they couldn't be furter removed from one another in either concept or execution: Celestial creaminess on the one hand, afterglow raunchiness on the other. One feels platimum white, the other tawny.

Clair de Musc is ~atypically in the Lutens canon~ an angelic semi-vegetal musk (ambrette seed alongside synths, Habanolide I would wager); aldehydic, yet not totally soapy (Fleurs de Citronnier has a soapier musk base) neither "sharp" (à la L'Eau par Serge Lutens). It twists the idea of musk into an ethereal version of talcum-powdered chubby-peachy cheruvim with a floral underside, hold whatever "dirty aspects" i.e. indoles those flowers initially possessed; a skin-scent of juvenile, crisp flesh which almost "cracks" underneath the teeth. Which might explain why men love it on women. In our eternally seeking the youthful culture, Clair de Musc is a seduction that doesn't pose as seductive: The "innocence" of shorn pubes...but without a iota of crassness or malice.

In formula terms, there is a clear reference of aldehydics and florals of the past, intertextuality scatterings amidst the authoring, of which perfumer Chris Sheldrake surely was fully in control: the luster of both Chanel No.22and No.5, the cool vibrancy of powdered class of Iris Poudre by F.Malle, even the drydown phase of Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier (a cologne formula almost entirely comprised by musks anyway)

For what it is, a delicate "white musk" composition, this Lutens creation issued in 2003 can be deemed overpriced, as there are indeed lots of musks of that concept (albeit not exactly of that stature, this is smoother than most) across different price points. And it is no match for more complex musk fragrances such as the delightful and lamentably discontinued Helmut Lang. It is superb for layering purposes nevertheless, if you're after that sort of thing, and it is among the easiest to approach in the eclectic Lutensian portfolio. However, my own personal preference is always the dirtier, cosier brother with the heavily-bearded visage, Muscs Kublaï Khan...

Although to any lover of classical music the instinctive association would be with Claude Debussy's Clair de Lune, I chose a different, less troden path, which is none the less evocative: "Dance with my own shadow" from Gioconda's Smile album by Greek composer Manos Hadjidakis. (set in a beautiful video by Omiros2)




Notes for Serge Lutens Clair de Musc:
bergamot, iris, neroli, jasmine, orange blossom, sandalwood, musk.

Clair de Musc is part of Serge Lutens export line, fragrances carried at select stores around the world, presented in the familiar oblong bottles of the brand.

Other noteworthy reviews: The Non Blonde, grain de musc, Pere de Pierre.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scented Musketeers (musks reviews), The Musk Series: ingredients, classification, cultural associations

Screenshot from Les enfants du Paradis film, via screenshotworld blog

Photos from the Moroccan Abode of Serge Lutens

W magazine goes inside perfumer Serge Lutens's secret Moroccan hideout in the heart of the Marrakesh medina, asks questions (via Christopher Bagley) and posts a pleiad of gorgeous photos (by Patric Nagel) in their June issue. Curiously, the hideout of the grand master of artistic direction is just that ~a secret hideout. It's been constructed for the last 35 years, yet it hasn't been lived in yet! Lutens has trouble coming up with a clear explanation, attributing it to filling the “awful, horrible emptiness that we all have.” He says, “There are times where you just have to be completely occupied; otherwise you fall apart".
The house is respendid with orientalised motifs, Berber jewellery and fibulae, Syrian chairs and paneled coloured windows alongside an impressive memento mori desk. All around a big walled garden full of exotic blooms like daturas, tuberoses and brigmansias. Anyone who knows the admiration Perfume Shrine holds for the Lutensian universe knows we're thrilled...


The interview includes such Lutensian gems as “I felt like the director of the pyramid at Cheops” (on the 500 people working on it), “You could call it obsession. But obsession is a necessary part of creation” (on getting carried away on the building process) and “It’s happened very quickly, like a hysteria. Everything’s a hysteria with me” (on his amassing moody Orientalist art-pieces from the middle of the 1980s onwards).


But maybe the most interesting of them all (and the most romantic) concerns smells: The greatest perfumers of them all aren't perfumers, but rather the bees, the winds, the rivers, carrying and mixing scents in space...In a home like this one, this is tangible reality more than poetic fantasy.

Visit this link to read and see the Serge Lutens slideshow.

And might we remind you that two new fragrances by Serge Lutens are coming up soon: Boxeuses and Bas de Soie. You can read about them here.

Photographs by Patric Nagel for W Magazine.

Serge Lutens Boxeuses & Bas de Soie: new fragrances

The brand which cemented the notion of niche in our minds, Serge Lutens, is coming up with two new fragrances due to launch soon: ‘Boxeuses’ and ‘Bas de soie’.

Boxeuses (pronounced box-EZh) is the Paris exclusive edition that plays on notes of leather and skin. The name means "women boxers" (as in athletes of box), so what else but the taut skin of boxing gloves and the glistening vision of copious amount of skin on display could it evoke?

Of course there is already a leather fragrance in the Lutens portfolio, the orientalised floral-accented Cuir Mauresque and a softer suede-jasmine in Sarrasins, but Boxeuses promises to be more suave, softer, with facets of prunes and licorice evoking gourmand delights, juxtaposed to the dry and smoky notes of a traditional leather; and amidst all that a rich woody note recalling oudh! Boxeuses launches in September 2010, 110 euros for 75 ml.

Bas de Soie (pronounced BA-de-SWAH) is destined for the export line that gets distributed to the US and is continuing on the playful theme of baptizing fragrances with tactile, fabric-reminiscent names, as was Serge Noire and Fourreau Noir. In this case the name is erotically charged as it translates as "silk stockings". Of course from someone like Serge Lutens we wouldn't expect a literal or banal interpretation of tired clichés, which makes it all the more intriguing. I personally prefer to think of it in the terms of the silken gams of Cyd Charisse and the 1957 musical Silk Stockings in which she starred. The core of the fragrance oscillates between hyacinth, deprived of its green facets in favour of powdery touches through the synergy of precious iris. More feminine than Boxeuses but still presented as a potential unisex. Bas de Soie is launching in June 2010, 79 euros for 50 ml.

Last but not least, the limited edition Paris exclusive set for release in the export bottles at the end of 2010 will be Cuir Mauresque!
There is also a slight reworking of the labels on the bottles which you can see from the pic.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news & reviews

Notes via osmoz Thanks to my special source for the heads up!
Actress Clara Bow, the 'It' girl, poses on Malibu beach, on Jan.1st 1927 in boxing gloves. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images). Photo of Cyd Charisse from Silk Stockings via Classic Forever

Update on Lutens discontinuations

A sense of panic ensued when we broke the news of Serge Lutens discontinuations the other day and quite justifiably, I'd wager. It's not everyday that an iconic niche line known for their attention to detail needs to halt one of their lauded fragrances. I feel like I need to assuage the fears a little bit and at the same time implement the news with something a little disheartening again, since another source (thanks!) informed me of the following interesting facts:

The discontinuations are planned for the export line only, meaning it's basically a US-discontinuation (my original source was of American interests): the four export fragrances will revert to their alma mater, Les Salons du Palais Royal, thus becoming Paris exclusives (much as Miel de Bois currently is) but the important thing is that apart from Miel de Bois, Chypre Rouge, and Douce Amère the fourth is Santal Blanc and NOT Clair de Musc! This puts a new spin on things, as Clair de Musc had us all wonder why it was getting axed. Of course in a way this last bit of news is even worse, as Santal Blanc is a seriously lovely, quite underrated fragrance and one which cannot be easily found on other price points... Luckily the discontinuations will take place at a further date (supposedly next year), so there is still time to stock up if needed.

Serge Lutens multiple discontinuations: Oh My!

No sooner had the ink dried (or rather the optical signal been transmitted from your screen to your retinas) on the L'Eau Serge Lutens review that we're faced with some rather disconcerting news which haven't been broadcasted anywhere else yet. It doesn't sound too good, so brace yourselves: Not one, but FOUR Serge Lutens fragrances are getting discontinued...

The reasons might have to do with ingredient restrictions making it difficult to continue their production or -more likely- they could be really low sales combined with a rethinking of the whole line (after all, the new "anti-parfum" is as if a rethinking has been going on) that accounts for it. Whatever it is, the fans will be dismayed and a frantic hunt for them will ensue. In a way I will be glad to see the last specimens being taken off to loving homes rather than having them languish on a shelf. No good fragrance deserves less.

The four Serge Lutens fragrances (sounds like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and I feel that way too) that are getting axed are: Chypre Rouge, Miel de Bois, Clair de Musc and Douce Amère.
The rumour on the discontinuation of Miel de Bois had been discussed a year and a half ago (!) and had been thoroughly explained, but it had been fervently denied at the time from the Parisian staff; the rest...let's just say they weren't the most popular of the lot! (Clair de Musc is discontinued through no fault of its pleasant, well-liked scent; it's merely that clean ethereal musks are a dime a dozen in the market, no matter how poetically brilliant Serge's version is, I presume). Personally I will be really saddened to see the excellent and contemplatively melancholic Douce Amère, one of my personal favourites, perish. You'll have to snatch it off my cold, clammy hands, I guess...

Edit to Add: Miel de Bois is currently sold as a Paris exclusive in the bell jars, after its pulling from the export line. Although the Palais Royal representative denies discontinuation en masse, there is a private source that tells me the scents might revert to their alma mater and become Paris exclusives like MdB, which means discontinuation in the export bottles (and the US, as a consequence).,/span>

Edit to Add2: Click to read the latest update on this distressing issue.

Illustration Tempus Fugit by Anomunnus via deviantart.com

L'Eau par Serge Lutens: fragrance review & a draw

I was wondering when next there would be some blogosphere ruffle about a release which creates chasms of opinion, has Turania pan it mercilessly because it doesn't exactly follow the "grand manner"* and creates queues at online decanters to sample it to satisfy the most aimed-at attribute of them all: curiosity! Serge Lutens doesn't miss a beat: With L'Eau Serge Lutens he presents a completely atypical composition ~clean, iron-pressed, steaming like the hot towels infused with citrusy accents presented at luxury hotels for guests to freshen up before diving to the house-warming basket of delicacies.
And he will certainly have everyone wondering how and why he chose this path. Some will put it down to artistic decisions after exhausting the theme of balsams, cedar, cumin and dried fruits, which Serge has indeed culminated into an apotheosis. It could be; great artists are those who abandon la manière (and please note how Gris Clair, Clair de Musc, Iris Silver Mist and Encens et Lavande are essentially none of those things). Some others will venture this is a move to corner the emerging China market. However it is reported that the real turnover on luxury products in China accounts for the household name brands (Cartier, Chanel, Hermès etc). Nah...Others still will put it down to the industry being restricted right and left because of IFRA; if one is only allowed to play with a diminished palette they might as well be insolent and do a 180degree turn!

Whatever it is, 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. The new fragrance, which I got as a preview and have been testing this past weekend fascinated by its surprising yet familiar feel, is not an eau de cologne version, certainly not an aquatic, nor a light skin-like oriental in the manner of Clair de Musc. L'Eau Serge Lutens is almost mineral-like, in the manner that Eau de Gentiane Blanche is like white volcanic dust on a cool morning, and it would make me feel that the convergence of Mars and the dark side of the Moon ~two diametrically different artists~ has finally happened.
Yet the feel compared to the Hermès cologne is different: a little less bitter in the opening, a hint of bleach even, a little sweeter overall while still a quite bitter "clean". It's like a silvery white book on a shelf, all cool glossy pages, bookended on one side by citrus (the tinge of a little grapefruit, some of the nitrile in Sécrétions Magnifiques too; Quest's Marenil molecule it seems? but good God don't stop reading yet!) and on the other end by musks. There is kinship** with Essence by Narciso Rodriguez as well as Perfect Veil by Creative Scentualisation to give you an idea, but it manages to be neither's replica and to stand on its own feet, more aloof, more Chinese dry-cleaner's white shirt than either.
I bet it will infuriate those who expect opulent baroque from Lutens by default and it will be shunned by neo-bourgeois as well as those who insist on "smelling pretty". L'Eau Serge Lutens is handsome ~and perfectly unisex~ in its austere cleanliness, but pretty it is not. The lasting power is phenomenal, especially on fabric, where the facets of bitter and "nautical" are more evident.

But if papa Serge maintains cleanliness is the new ideal, is "cleanliness next to godliness" or is that only a Protestant concept?
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 was echoing in my ears as I read the new promo material by Lutens in which "cleanliness is the new luxury": 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...) Personally, it's that wry humour which I most appreciate in his work, regardless of whether I wear them all.

*Well, we saw what happens to new releases following the grand manner: they get discontinued!

**One of the ingredients is Tris (tetramethylhydroxypiperidinol) Citrate, a widely used Ph adjuster and "buffer" which extends the life and aroma of deodorants, after shaves and eaux de toilette. I suppose this is part of the familiarity too.

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 Eudermine, the beautifying lotion-cum-aromatic in the long red bottle. L'Eau Serge Lutens is part of the export line and will be available in Europe from February 1st at the boutiques selling Lutens scents and from February 15th also online. Release for American stores is scheduled for March.

For those of you who simply can't wait, I have a sample for a lucky reader. State your interest in the comments! Draw is now closed, winner announced shortly!

In the interests of full disclosure I got sent a small sample as part of the communication by Les Salons which I am offering for the draw.

Painting Girl in the Bathtub by Everett Shinn (1903). Lutens portrait via press material