Serge Noire by Lutens: fragrance review

Upon smelling frankincense tears slowly being burnt on charcoals in an old bronzy censer, aromatizing the air with their otherworldy smell, I never fail to be transported in a mirage, similar to the one that Serge Noire by Lutens is evoking: Smoke is rising in the air of an old, byzantine, Orthodox church, the bright light coming fragmented in colourful snippets of reds and yellows through the panelled windows; old beeswax dripping heavily on the trays with sand on which pious old women have pinched their candles, each burdened with a prayer for the soul of a loved one; antique gold chandleriers are hanging heavily from what seems like a thread over wooden pews bearing the double-faced eagle of Byzantium carved in their backs, like an eidolon; visions of brides and grooms who have stood before the altar, erect and proud, crowned according to Orthodox canon with wreaths of silver, like royalty; the hushed lone whisper of someone who has seeked solace from the unrelenting heat of a bright summer's noon into the cool marbled-floored abode.

These are not manifestations of faith or religiousness on my part, rather the spirituality which seeks the opportunity to come out upon inhaling the fragrant remnants of smoke, stucco-ed along with the old egg-paint frescoes of the saint and the martyrs on the walls. And the pyrotechnics of myriads of Easter midnight celebrations, when the sky bursts forth with all the colours of the rainbow and the intense noise of fire-crackers that exorcises the evil spirits in a pagan atavistic nod which is so intrisically ingrained into the customs of this particular little corner of the world. Darkness and Light...

Exilde for ever: Let me morne
Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorne.

Downe vaine lights shine you no more,
No nights are dark enough for those
That in dispaire their last fortunes deplore,
Light doth but shame disclose

~Lacrymae Pavanne/Flow my tears, John Dowland

Incense in general has this almost Pavlovian quality of invoking a feeling of serenity, sadness and almost perverse elation in me.
Frankincense came into the scene of niche cults with the "Incense series" by Comme des Garcons and Passage d'Enfer by L'artisan parfumeur years ago and although it seemed it languished for a while, it knew a resurgence last summer with Andy Warhol Silver Factory by Bond No.9, an arguably interesting take and with Andy Tauer's wonderful duo of the austere Incense Extrême and the sunny Incense Rosé this past autumn.
However Serge Noire has been one fragrance lately which has managed to include every aspect of my ignus fatus, replete with the power to obliterate every other thought during its slow and lasting denouement on my skin. I had posted some earlier thoughts based on confidances by friends who had whetted my appetite but my personal, intimate relationship with Serge Noire has been a revelation.

The name derives its lineage from history: In the 19th and early 20th century, the name (la serge, feminine hence the "e" in the adjective "noire") designated a type of textile, twill of diagonal lines or ridges on both sides, made with a two-up, two-down weave, that was quite popular: a delicate variety was used for finer garments, while a stronger yarn was chosen for military clothes. The etymology derives from Greek σηρικος (σηρος means silk worm, for clothes), which gave rise to the Latin serica and the old French serge.The interesting thing is that serge has been implicated through the British textile trade monopoly via Calais and the Netherlands in wars between European nations, especially religious ones: in 1567 Calvinist refugees from the Low Countries included many skilled serge weavers, while Huguenot refugees in the early eighteenth century included many silk and linen weavers.With that at the back of our minds we might start deciphering the enigma of Serge Noire.

Initially dry and spartan with the flinty, camphoreous aspect of gun powder comparable to Essence of John Galliano for Diptyque, ashes to ashes and snuffed out candles, Serge Noire by Lutens assaults the senses with the intense austerity of real frankincense and elemi. The impression is beautifully ascetic, hermetic, like an anchorite who has dwelled in a cave up in the rough mountains with only the stars as his companion in the darkest pitch of the night: the "noire" part is meditatively devoid of any ornamentation, eclipsing any pretence of frivolous prettification. The surprising transparency is evocative of the Japanese Kodo ritual rather than the denser cloud of Avignon. Those who are unitiated to the wonders of Lutens might coil away with trepidation and apprehension at this point, but much like the alarming mentholated overture of Tubéreuse Criminelle, this subsides eventually, although never quiting the scene completely.
And yet behind the caustic and mineral masculinity, a hopeful ascent of a feminine trail of lightly vanillic, ambery benzoin and sweet spice is slowly, imperceptibly rising after half an hour; like a subtly heaving bosom draped with Japanese garments or the curvaceous calligraphy of thick black ink on gaufre paper of ivory or creamy skin. It is then when cistus labdanum provides an erotic hint of sophisticated elegance in Serge Noire while the emergence of sweet spice, a touch of cinnamon, gives a burnished quality of black that is slowly bleeding into grey.
The ashen ballet in the flames, the swirls of oriental grey sing an ode to everlasting beauty, beauty under the cover of night's rich plumage.

Elements that have caught the imagination of Lutens and Sheldrake in the past (the camphor in Tubéreuse Criminelle, the ink in Sarrasins, the incense of Encens et Lavande) are merging here in what seems to be a personal declaration of faith. Rumoured to have been in the works for the past 10 years during the tenure of Chris Sheldrake at the Palais Royal, it has the seal of favouritism by Lutens himself, which makes it a personal token of identity.
I am hereby claiming it as mine as well: This is one of the best Lutens releases of recent years to be sure!


Serge Noire comes in 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Parfum Haute Concentration for 95 euros in the oblong bottles of the export line (with optional spray mechanism included) and has just launched exclusively for the Palais Royal premiere, to be then distributed by the licensed distributors from September 08.

You can read an interesting article on the Lutens genius in French in Le Point.

Pic of Monemvasia Castle steps in Greece by Kostas Katsiyannis, courtesy of ellopos.org.
Eva Green pic courtesy of au.feminin. Clip "Lacrymae Pavanne/Flow my Tears" by John Dowland, sung by
Andreas Scholl, originally uploaded by lasultanica on Youtube.

How does the latest Serge Noire by Serge Lutens smell like?

Serge Noire, the export fragrance of Lutens for this summer (July 2008) derives its lineage from history: In the 19th and early 20th century, the name (la serge, feminine hence the "e" in the adjective "noire") designated a type of textile, twill of diagonal lines or ridges on both sides, made with a two-up, two-down weave, that was quite popular: a delicate variety was used for finer garments, while a stronger yarn was chosen for military clothes. The etymology derives from Greek σηρικος (σηρος means silk worm, for clothes), which gave rise to the Latin serica and the old French serge.
The interesting thing is that serge has been implicated through the British textile trade monopoly via Calais and the Netherlands in wars between European nations, especially religious ones: in 1567 Calvinist refugees from the Low Countries included many skilled serge weavers, while Huguenot refugees in the early eighteenth century included many silk and linen weavers.

With that at the back of our minds we might start deciphering the enigma of Serge Noire and its reputation of an ascetic incense, according to my confidante Elisabeth. Quite taken with it, she discussed it at length with Serge, who explained that it is very different from Encens et Lavande, the previous sumptuous and fantastically deep frankincense take in the exclusive Palais Royal line.
Since there is often a double interpretation of the same material in both exclusive and export lines, it is not unheard of that there would be an incense scent in the latter. After all there is indeed a lavender one to match Encens et Lavande, Gris Clair, so why not one to address the other constituent of the fragrance as well?

Frankincense came into the scene of niche cults with the "Incense series" by Comme des Garcons and Passage d'Enfer by L'artisan parfumeur years ago and although it seemed it languished for a while, incense knew a resurgence last summer with Andy Warhol Silver Factory by Bond No.9, an arguably interesting take and with Andy Tauer's wonderful duo of Incense Extrême and Incense Rosé this autumn.

Serge Noire comes to offer an architecture of incense that is pure and balanced with nothing in excess, yet not classical. Rather an orientalised grey, which in itself is a play on his previous Gris Clair. It has a ritualistic element, without the cold, dark church associations we have come to expect from the genre. It is on the contrary reminiscent of fireworks and powdery dry, laced with spices which will dare our conventional beliefs on incense fragrances.

My French blogger friend Six, on Ambre Gris, equally ecstatic, talks about resinous, warm and slightly sweet, vanillic benzoin joining the proceedings, giving a feminine element to the masculine character, while she notes that pepper and a camphoreous note open up the intriguing composition of dry and bitter japanese-like incense with smoky and mineral tonalities echoing Chinese ink, flanked with a little cinnamon. Elements that have caught the imagination of Lutens and Sheldrake in the past (the camphor in Tubéreuse Criminelle, the ink in Sarrasins, the incense of Encens et Lavande) are merging here in what seems to be a personal declaration of faith.
Elisabeth confirmed that Serge Noire is near and dear to Serge's heart, name nothwithstanding, as he professed it to be his favorite; feeding thus the rumor that it has been in the works for 10 years and hinting that those who have professed it one of the best Lutens in recent years must be right.

So to recapitulate notes for your ease: camphor and pepper, dry incense and ashes, fireworks and gunpowder, sweet benzoin, cistus labdanum, castoreum and a little cinnamon. Got it? Sounds fantastic!

Lutens himself in a lyrical description consistent with his previous cryptic "poems" about his fragrances states concerning Serge Noire:

"An ether of ashes, it's about serge. A way of creating for myself a bad reputation with added value" [...]"A phoenix, the mythical bird of legend burns at the height of its splendour before emerging triumphant, reborn from the ashes in a choreography of flame, conjuring the shapes of yesterday in a dance of ashes. The swirls of oriental grey enrich the twilight with depth and intensity while windswept memories hint at the beauty of transformation. An ode to everlasting beauty under the cover of night's rich plumage"

There is some discrepancy between English and French press release which is intriguing to contemplate: In the French text there is the addition of a controversial affirmation of the fragrance creating a visual contrast between white skin and black cloth, intended for ethereal beauties ("Pour vous belles éthérées! Peaux blanches et serge noire...")
Political correcteness never fit well with Lutens and the phrase despite its connotations cannot be taken at face value, I reckon: I am sure he was focused on the aesthetic choice of chromatic antithesis and not on any racial slur hinted. To me it is more evocative of "The Pillow Book", black calligraphy on light-toned skin, tragically romantic in its unattainable ideal.

The Lutensian feminine ideal is japonified, lean and ascetic in her black garb, a woman of neither here nor there, of no time and no place; she almost becomes inhuman in the attenuation of her form and features to the point she becomes pure art. However every one of his creations bears inside the sperm of this ideal, which caresses our dreams and imprints our thoughts.
Black takes the emblematic scheme of a non-color: it serves as protection and amunition. But also as the symbolic anonymity of the monastic cloth which invokes an inner transformation, a metamorphosis of the spirit and which imparts its truth to those who opt for it.
Serge Noire will be the darling fragrance of everyone seeking to embrace their inner anchorite. Count me in!

Serge Noire comes in Eau de Parfum Haute Concentration at the standard 50 ml/1.7oz oblong flacon with optional spray attachement and costs to buy 95 €

Pic from Shiseido ad courtesy of Autour de Serge

How does the latest El Attarine by Serge Lutens smell like?

The perfume community has been complaining lately. But let's finally admit it: Serge Lutens is the Pope of cult fragrances and Chris Sheldrake has been the archbishop to aid his vision come into fruition. And since, despite Sheldrake's new position under the aegis of Chanel, he can still work with Lutens, we have apparently not seen the last of the duo's creativity. Indeed two new fragrances have been announced: El Attarine and Serge Noire to be launched at the end of summer and July respectively. Anticipation is building. Ad copy is scrutinized for clues. But what do these really smell like? It is Perfume Shrine's privilege to reveal a few facets of that olfactory identity for you today.

One of the advantages of writing and academia is communicating with other people who write and participate in academia as well. And it is more pleasurable and infinitely intriguing when those people share the same passion: fragrance! Perfume historian, professor at the Versailles school of perfumery and writer Elisabeth de Feydeau, who we're honoured to count among the readers of Perfume Shrine, had the opportunity to experience the new Lutens fragrances and asked us to share her impressions for the English-reading public on this venue. Honoured and flattered we agreed with enthusiasm.

But how were these fragrance conceived? According to Lutens regarding El Attarine: "Today, I offer you gold, sun-drenched topaz, everlasting flowers and saps". Admittedly an image evocative of the riches of Arabia and Morocco, eternal inspiration in the Lutens universe.
The olfactory focus and main notes of this solar composition seem to be immortelle/helychrisum, more commonly known as everlasting flower, aimed at offering a new interpretation that will set a new frontier in fragrance history.
Elisabeth described El Attarine to me as intensely about immortelle after a soft opening, with copious lashings of spicy, sweaty cumin and honey notes; this might indicate that they have explored both facets of the material, essence and absolute. With a complex odour profile, immortelle is a fascinating note with a herbaceous, honey-like aroma in the essential oil and recalling the unique odour of spicy fenugreek (Trigonella Foenum Graecum) in the absolute, imparting amazing lasting power and evoking maple syrup for many. {It has been featured in the following scents: Sables and Eau de Monsieur by Goutal, Eau Noire Dior, L de Lolita Lempicka, Calypso Gardenia, Guerlain Cuir Beluga, Cologne du 68 and Coriolan, Chene by Lutens, Balmain Ambre Gris, Rosine Ecume de Rose, Amouage Jubilation XXV, Divine L'Homme Sage, Diptyque Opone, Comme des Garcons Kyoto from the Incense series and Woodcoffee from the Sweet Series, Parfumerie Generale Corps et Ames}.
However in El Attarine imorrtelle is flanked by another warm and sweet essence that is a favourite of Lutens and a staple of Middle-eastern and Mediterranean tradition: jasmine. Its intoxicating lushness appears along with pronounced woods to polish El Attarine off.

Perhaps in a more prosaic description Lutens goes on to say that: "In Arab countries, “attarin” means sweet-smelling, and refers to everything within the realm of the “atar”: fragrance, heart, flavour and essence". Attars recall the mysteries of the east, its people and the rituals in which they engage. The mingling of smell and taste is not unheard of in the Lutens/Sheldrake cosmos, as both Douce Amèreand Mandarine Mandarin are impressions of gustatory speciments (absinthe and mandarin respectively) that reveal side panels of aromas like in a Byzantine triptych ~"Attarine is not a closed door. You cannot make a perfume with only your nose".
El Attarine is also the name of a regal, elite Koranic school in Fez, thus the fragrance is another homage to the Arabic culture that has been providing Lutens with inspiration for the last 2 decades at least.
In a Parthian Shot, Serge leaves us with this: "It is an accord born out of a disagreement in the first person. From my attarinian solitude, the fruits of my imagination were abundant". Make of it what you will and we shall return as soon as it is released!

El Attarine is priced at € 110 for the standard bell jar containing 75 ml, available exclusively at the Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido (August 2008). There is the option of shipping within Europe.

Next post will focus on Serge Noire: stay tuned!

Pics courtesy of Palais Royal and Wikipedia.
You can read an interview with Lutens on Scented Salamander.