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

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

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 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

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.

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

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 Santal Majuscule: fragrance review & draw

The majestic scent of sandalwood stands as the benevolent Hitopadeśa tales of the Far East, a fan of fantasy woven in didactic morals for princes, much like the precious real fans carved out of the prized wood for cooling off in the intense heat of the Indian peninsula; rich, milky-smelling, with a hint of incense and fresh greenery at times, still retaining their scented glamour as decades go by. The intimate, elegant aura of woody fragrances finds its apogee in sandalwood; perfumes plush and collapsingly soft but with the promise of intelligence. Santal Majuscule by Serge Lutens just comes to reinforce this notion as introduced on these pages a while ago, being the perfect sandalwood starter fragrance for those seeking such a thing, but also a welcome Lutensian offering to make me fall again headfirst into his Alice in Wonderland private cosmos I found myself tangled in ever since he issued the sumptuous La Myrrhe. Lutens however remains Lutens: the orient is ever present, but it is the occident which defines his torturing demons. His new Santal Majuscule is an assured step in his Camino de Perfección, modeled after St.Teresa of Ávila whose Latin motto seals the fate of the fragrance: is it the throes of passion or the throes of divine ecstasy that mark the lines of her face? Where does one end and the other begin? Her devotion of silence is symbolic of the enigmatic nature of the Lutensian opus itself.

 "Pride must be celebrated. Thus the boy, clad in armor and perched on his horse, along with a terrible princess in full mourning dress, pictured himself arriving at the Coronation Mass to the sound of thundering hooves, just at the moment of the transubstantiation, that very moment when the priest holds the host up to the cross, to the one agonizing on it."

"As you know, there are a wide variety of sandalwoods. Mysore is one that has been subjected for some time to a hidden trafficking. I had used it in the mid 90s, during the creation of Santal de Mysore. Santal Blanc is another thing. Regarding Santal Majuscule, this is an Australian sandalwood, high quality, but with this release, I 'sensationalized' it so much that in the end, it is impossible to tell if it comes from India, Australia or elsewhere. What interests me is what I can do with it. Moreover, using sandalwood for itself alone would be a little 'Sandalwood of misery'...."               Serge Lutens quote from  interview bestowed to Elena Vosnaki

It's not hard to see why sandalwood ~despite having another two in the line already (Santal Blanc recently being moved into the Paris exclusives line to couple with the resident Santal de Mysore)~ was picked yet again as the foundation on which Lutens built his church, to paraphrase another religious reference. Sandalwood is the natural product par excellence, nature's agony and ecstasy: a scent so fine, so rich and yet with a fresh top note, so creamy sweet and so enduring, that it has inspired generations of men and women to harvest its precious, sacred trunk in order to imbue products for personal, religious and public use with its fine aroma. Although as explained in my Raw Material Sandalwood article the Mysore variety is rationed for fear of depletion (hence the wealth of synthetic sandalwood substitutes enumerated), the polished silkiness of the Indian variant could be mimicked creatively only by the choicest wizards of perfumery. And who more excellent than the mercurial figure of Serge Lutens to offer us a vista into the orientalia of a "nouveau sandalwood"?

The maestro revealed to me in an interview (replete with his childhood reminiscences of classroom ennui) that Santal Majuscule is technically based on the Australian sandalwood variety (which smells different), but I can attest the perfume ends up smelling like an radiant attar procured somewhere close to King Víkrama's lion-throne, creamy and luminous in its rose-distillate facets, sprinkled with promise of cocoa and soft spices (cinnamon), silky sheen with a hint of orange blossom honey and sweet incense in the background. After all, Lutens managed to inject a delicious effect of sandalwood in his savory gourmand fragrance Jeux de Peau, where the impression is again built on fantasy.
 For Santal Majuscule, perfumer Chris Sheldrake and Lutens weaved the familiar web of woody tonalities which they have composed a thesis and a meta-thesis on, ever since Feminite du Bois (the latter alongside Pierre Bourdon). But whereas their other woody compositions can veer dark and rather brooding (see the patchouli & cocoa fantasy of Borneo) and we know from Iris Silver Mist and Tubereuse Criminelle the master has a taste for the morose and the morbid, here the treatment is smiling; petal-soft, sweetish (but never much) and with an elegance and refined allure that defies preconceived notions. The rose is perceptible, but not "dated", The apricoty tinge gives just the right fruity, almost edible tenderness, an ally to the liqueur-like essence of Damask rose and the creaminess of the woods. But the fragrance is far from his Rahat Loukhoum gourmand quality you can give yourself cavities with, making it pliable enough for people who don't like double helpings of anything.

The composition of Santal Majuscule also defies ~especially upon drying down on the skin~ the familiar, been-there-done-that rose attar model of the Middle East: that traditional "A Thousand and One Nights" melange of rose and sandalwood, as recognizable as Aladdin's cave in the desert. The longer the fragrance stays on skin (and it stays on very long) the more it gains a skin-scent aura of musk and honey, animalic yet elegant, with an addictive character, unisex and inviting; like living, breathing, caressed human skin this close to the throes of (divine?) ecstasy.  As Serge says: "Obey what you smell, feel, love. Do not obey what you're told, and do not believe it too much!"[from same interview to the author]
Given all this, I just can't wait for Une Voix Noire, his next installment in the canon.

Compared to the other two sandalwood fragrances in the Serge Lutens line of perfumes, Santal Majuscule is less sweet than Santal Blanc, less daring and austere than Santal de Mysore. Contrasted with that other golden standard of sandalwood perfumes, Tam Dao by Diptyque, I find myself ensnared by the Lutens, mainly because where Tam Dao used to be true and rich, it now boasts a pronounced pencil-shavings cedarwood note which limits its prior rich versatility.

Santal Majuscule is available in Eau de Parfum "haute concentration" (i.e. the slightly pricer than normal black label line of high concentration) at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris and online. Starting September 1st 2012 the new "export" fragrance will be sold worldwide.

A generous decant sprayer of the latest Lutens perfume is available for one lucky reader! Please let me know in the comments what you like or not about Lutens and sandalwood perfumes in general. Draw is open till Friday 27th midnight internationally. Draw is now closed, thanks everyone for participating.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens perfume reviews & news, Sandalwood in Perfumery, Woody Fragrances


pic of statue via thecoincidentaldandy.blogspot.com

Serge Lutens L'incendiaire and L'Orpheline: new fragrances

"I use the word section [d'or =golden section] to describe a breakaway, a separation. This departure from a black world brings forth a bright new division.

This divided version of me awakens a forgotten yet timeless image from the very first moments of my life. To the right of me, touching the edge of my shadow, in another light, it illuminates a crown, one that could belong to my other.

I am the protagonist in this story, turning my anger into passion. My aggressiveness hides my fear and mends my courage. L’incendiaire provides me with the spark I need, and by declaring my flame I ignite what burns within me, and consumes me. My heroine surges from deep within my cowardice and my flaws reveal the golden brilliance of her virtues. It is the love which sustains me in my darkest hour, even as I grieve for its loss.

Your crimes are mine, and I take them with me to the guillotine, where the executioner is waiting to cut the ruffian’s – my – story short.
But my destiny is entirely in your hands!"

~Serge Lutens (the translation from the French comes from official PR material)

This is the (familiarly cryptic) text accompanying the upcoming release of the new Serge Lutens fragrance in a separate new "line" with gold label, L'Incediaire (the arsonist, the pyromaniac), coming up soon. If you notice Lutens explains the introduction of the new line in gold labels with a few words suggesting they make a break with the black labels, bringing forth a new idea, like his "Eau" line was separate in concept than the rest.

The name L'Incediaire suggests (but isn't conclusive) of an incense-y resinous or sulfurous composition, but the actual fragrance notes include geranium, carnation, woods and incense featured prominently.

Brace yourselves for another wild ride! Priced at 600$US no less (that's the retail price of Serge Lutens L'Incendiaire)

photo taken by MaryseFelix on ink361.com, borrowed for display purposes only

For those who keep an eye on such things, another Serge Lutens fragrance is coming up, just released in Paris for the summer launch, this time in the oblong bottles of the more widely available "export" line, called L'Orpheline (the Orphan Girl). It is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line". {Edited to add: I have just written a fragrance review of L'Orpheline on this link}

" Friable mais entière.
A demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. "

Lutens of course refers to Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…

The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole", (shown in the video watchable above) is of course inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised sans mother, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal").

The new Lutens fragrance L'Orpheline features top notes of aldehydes, with a heart and base composed of woods (cedar prominently), a fougere accord, coumarin, "clouds of ambergris", patchouli, incense and Cashmeran ("blonde woods").
The fragrance of L'Orpheline will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.
The limited edition bottle for L'Orpheline, a series of numbered bottles for collectors at a much more elevated price, is a beautiful, familiarly Lutensian design of few evocative lines, as you can see in the photo above.

Serge Lutens L'Orpheline: fragrance review & sample draw

Much like the mysterious (and incestuous) half-sister in Leos Carax's  radical adaptation of Melville's Pierre: or, the Ambiguities (1852) in "Pola X", the specter of the missing family member being visited while in almost somnambulist state, L'orpheline (the orphan girl), the latest Serge Lutens fragrance, becomes "un visage….sans age…une souffle, une presence" (a face…ageless…a breath, a presence) which disrupts the flow of a seemingly smooth, luxurious life with its secret of a tormented and deprived past. And again much like the play of light & darkness throughout the film by Leos, L'orpheline presents a play between the cool and warm register, between madness creeping underneath love, and between comfort emerging where you least expect it. Like Pierre, Lutens, you see, views himself as an artist in love with reckless gestures, only thankfully his charm lies not in any thorough immaturity. On the contrary, he has revealed intimate, personal stuff to us with the maturity that comes from acceptance.

Serge presents the new perfume in these words written in a vertical sequence: " Friable mais entière.À demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. " Lutens of course winks at Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…which ties with the cryptic text he has written on L'Incendiaire, his other fragrant release, in a new "golden line", announced here a while ago. How's that for two shots with one stone?

Does Serge try to bring back his repressed beloved, his mother, a small bit at a time, with each of his fragrances? Possibly. Lutens is a grown Remi (after Malot's "Sans famille"), on a journey of the roads of France, on a journey of the roads of perfume. And like Carax or Rivette or any master of that school, he certainly takes his time into letting us share his journey.
The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole" (this is a French expression that really loses in the translation), is inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised without a mother and abandoned by his father, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal"), an Oedipal symbolism that doesn't go amiss. Nor is it intended to.

For this coolish and quiet fragrance (sequentially warmish, like Gris Clair) named  L'Orpheline, Lutens and his sidekick perfumer Chris Sheldrake focus on incense notes, not as cold and soapy as in L'Eau Froide, neither as spicy warm and shady as in Serge Noire, but somewhere in between; entre chien et loup, between daylight and darkness. Frankincense, the impression of bittersweet myrrh and peppery-acrid (elemi? cumin? ginger?) rather than clove-y carnation notes seem to rise, a cross between spirituality and carnality? Lutens knows how to marry contradictions and swath the opulence of orientalia into Parisian refinement. The spicy note in the heart reminds me of a mix between mace and cumin, reminiscent of both Secret Obsession (the now discontinued Calvin Klein fragrance) and a lighter Serge Noire by Lutens.

Yet the end result in L'Orpheline is apart; neither a true Moroccan oriental like hardcore Serge fans have built an online cult out of, nor a classically French perfume for the salon, but a mysterious, vaporous emanation "between the storm and clear skies", between the ashes of the past and the uncertainty of the future, a Delacroix painting, a dwindling match leaving embers behind. The peppery accent on the incense reminds me of the treatment of carnations in Oeillet Bengale (one of the best releases of the year so far) while the musky underlay is soft, subtle, meditative and not entirely without a certain poignancy.

L'Orpheline would suit anyone who like Pierre "had been waiting for something", regardless of their sex. Haven't we all?

L'Orpheline is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line" of the so called "export range" by Serge Lutens. It will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.

One sample out of my own decant to a lucky reader commenting below. Draw is open till Sunday midnight.

Serge Lutens Laine de Verre: fragrance review

One of my preferred short stories in the canon by American author Edgar Allan Poe is William Wilson. Less popular than many of his more exploitable, creepy or evocative stories, such as The Fall of the House of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum or The Tell-Tale Heart, it manages to speak to the soul in a way that reminds me of a later favorite author, Herman Hesse, and his profoundly soul-searching novels with characters struggling to find their fate and to get to know themselves. This preface comes as  a necessary explanation on why I found Laine de Verre, the latest fragrance launch by Serge Lutens, as chillingly puzzling as the double face of Janus, the two antiscians in the above mentioned short story.

via tumblr

Maybe this was all an idea that was suggested by seeing Uncle Serge pacing up and down as if somnabulating against himself in a clip worthy of utter puzzlement… [watch the clip here]

The cryptic text is -as always- a springboard for discussion or a chance for ridicule; it all depends on your worldview:
"It is only after he had been penetrated by the winter that,
laying down his arms, the Lord of Glass came to place
at the feet of the Lady of Wool flowers and ferns which had frosted on him."

Laine de Verre means fiberglass (yes, the one used as insulation) and as odd as a perfume inspiration this sounds (the actual material being a potent sensitizer creating an instant itch on the skin it touches) there comes a point in perfumery that one has to drop the "noble essences from the Comores islands" and the "ethically sustained eco-certified ingredients" schtick and just reinvent the wheel. This moment in perfumery has arrived. Fiberglass, then, why not!! After Serge Lutens fragrances with names such as Tubereuse Criminelle (criminal tuberose), Fille en aiguilles (you'll have to read the review to find out on that, it's more complex than it sounds), Nuit de cellophane (cellophane night), Vitriol d'Oeillet (carnation's vitriol) and La Vierge de Fer (iron maiden), Laine de Verre shouldn't come as a shock, at least in what has to do with semantics.

The "eau" line, with its initial L'Eau de Serge Lutens providing the first chasm with the hardcore Lutens clientele and with L'Eau Froide as the second installment to curdle the blood (in a good way), Laine de Verre continues in this collection that is differentiated both in packaging as well as in concept from the regular Marrakech-inflected line: these are "anti-perfumes", scents which aim to be perceived as an aura emanating from the wearer, legible the way supersonic whistles are legible to higher frequency listeners.

The metallic berries and citrus from Mars and the sharp aldehydes from Pluto opening predisposes for the character of the scent which is alien for the modern consumer of apple-scented shower gels and giant fake peaches standing in for latheriness. Lutens marries the abstract idea of "clean" from the middle years of the 20th century (aldehydic florals, such as Chanel No.22 and White Linen) and injects it with modern signs for niche: frankincense, sharp lily of the valley, a mineral and cedar-musk like haze which one can't put their finger on (actually Cashmeran or blonde woods).

Although I still prefer the more incense-y L'Eau Froide (and cannot wear the super sharp and starchy L'Eau), Laine de Verre has to be the second best in the Eau fragrances by Lutens, subdued but there, average lasting power and throughout ironic the way Comme de Garcons fragrances with no-names such as Odeur 53 made their (well) name. It might sound like sacrilege to the average Lutensian fan, but what Lauder did with their Pure White Linen in relation to White Linen is what the French maestro is doing here as well with a tiny helping of that weird, bleach note that made Secretions Magnifiques so horrifically memorable. Anyone who is mentally striking this off their list, now that I mentioned THE HORRIBLE ONE, might be appeased: uncle Serge hasn't totally went out of his way to make us notice, no. Laine de Verre isn't shocking.

In the end it all boils down to intent. With the Eau series, Lutens is authoring a new grammar of "clean": decidedly cool, with prominent use of aldehydes but also incense, mineral and metallic, maybe with a hint of chalkiness like a crushed aspirin, no sign of dewiness or soft muskiness, they perfectly encapsulate a spick & span minimalist loft or a white padded insane asylum, again depending on your worldview. This hygienic approach is in violent clash against the very idea of an added on fine fragrance, much like William Wilson came crushing down violently against his own self and consolidates my belief that Serge Lutens is pulling our collective leg in a deliciously playful way.

pic: Man Ray, Andre Breton before L'enigme d'une journee by Giorgio de Chirico, 1922.

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample in the context of the brand's regular promos.  

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin: new fragrance

“A flower grown under the ruins, cut off from the world, it appears before your eyes; to all of us to open our eyes. I took courage in both hands, in her flowing Rheingold hair. On the lips, I tasted blood. My girl from Berlin showed combative, more beautiful than ever – and so I broke my contempt and even my shame, hiding under the guise of my pride. Through the power of criticism, of love and hate, God and the devil, death and life, I drew a furrow in which she disappeared. And while the maelstrom beats on me, I pay homage to her beauty enraged”.
~Serge Lutens

Cryptic, no? Typical. The Girl from Berlin (this is what La Fille de Berlin translates to) recalls a Siegfried Idyll in some ways, but it is apparently the next Serge Lutens export fragrance to hit stores in March 2013. The renowned aesthete not only just launched in Berlin's Hotel Adlon his third book "Berlin à Paris", a collection of photographs from the years 1967 to 2008, but he also introduces his upcoming fragrance "La fille de Berlin"; an elegant velvety, dark red rose with peppered romantic nuances, dedicated to the real-life drama that helps self-expression flourish.

The genre of spicy rose is rather overpopulated (see Cinabre by Maria Candida Gentile for a fabulous specimen, as well as Parfum Sacre by Caron) and Serge is no stranger to spices, from smoky clove in Serge Noire, to dirty cumin in Arabie and El Attarine, to tart ginger in Five o'clock au Gingembre. 
The ruby-red color of the juice inside surely speaks of drama and has caught my attention, at the very least.

La fille de Berlin by Serge Lutens is an Eau de Parfum concentration available in 50 ml for 78 € from March 2013  
Serge Lutens's book: Berlin á Paris • 176 pages • 4-color • Electa Milano 2012 (Source: Serge Lutens, pic duftarchiv.de)

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