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

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself

Such a Zen feeling as that of today's title engulfs my psyche as I let myself bask in the sunny goodness, lazy like a spoiled cat that has seen some winters and some springs come and go but never lost her sense of contenment, sighing at the first warm days she's finally free to chase fat pigeons on the terracotta-laid rooftops.
Spring is univocally here as you can see and my mind wanders on avenues of floral and green fragrances that like a breath of optimism promise some fresh air blown over the ashes of burnt winter thoughts; that like a re-invigorated kittie is eager for some mental stretch.

"Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment", said Ellis Peters, and I couldn't express the feeling in a more awe-struck way at the eternal Dionysus's return.
The following fragrances, some of which might get a full review later on, if the mood strikes, are listed in no particular order but that of making me yearn for every dawn like it's the first one.


Tocadilly by Rochas
If a spring fragrance can combine warmth and coolness like the mark of one's breath on the window-pane on an ambiguous chilly morning that will later thaw, then the armload of lilacs hiding in this fragrance's heart are just what is needed. Christopher Sheldrake worked with a delicate palette that weaves jade-greens and wisteria-mauves into mixes that blur and leave you wondering at its ethereal beauty, much like watching a dance perfomance that defies gravity. Most unfairly overlooked and making me appreciate its rarity value even more!

Snob by Le Galion
The unusual green, licorice-bittersweet aspect of estragon, among the so-called "simples", one-remedy herbs, used by Hippocrates and possibly (?) named after a corruption of the middle-French esdragon (derived from the plant's Latin specific name artemisia dracunculus, "little dragon") is reputed to help in treating bites of insects and snakes. I wouldn't dream of wishing you any occurrence in which you should need its medicinal properties, but if you are simpatico to its charms, the combination with the classical floral bouquet of rose and jasmine is producing something very close to Patou's Joy and yet a little different in a cocky way in this -by now obscure- French firm's of the 1930s offering.

Cristalle by Chanel
If a cartload of juicy lemons is smiling my way on its embarkment spot in Sicily via an architectural austere flacon then I know I am in the presence of Cristalle in Eau de Toilette. If by some fateful chance I am garlanding my hair with yellow bits of honeysuckle blossoms while drinking said lemonade at an outdoor cinema just opening its gavel-strewn lawns in May after months of inertia, then Cristalle in Eau de Parfum is winking its seductive, youthful wiles at me. The night is nostalgic and promising and I am smitten by its pedigree and effortless elegance.

Lentisque by 06310
The at once fluffy and oleaginous flavour of mastic or lentisque, a resin from a variety of the pistachio tree growing on the island of Chios in the Eastern Aegean sea is hard to convincingly capture. In this Grasse family-owned company's fragrance, the beloved culinary lentisque is blended with essences of amber seed, iris, jasmin, Turkish rose, musk, amber and vetiver to render an amalgamation of aromata that seem to hazily blur like watercolours running into each other on thick drawning paper, mixed during a nonchalant Sunday afternoon.

Flora Nerolia by Guerlain
There is nothing more March-like than the smell of bitter orange trees blossoming, their waxy white petals infiltrating the glossy green of the leaves and some fruit still hanging from the branches, like a reminder of what has been already accomplished. Guerlain captured the ethereal vapors of steam of these delicate, ravishing blossoms and married them to a pre-emptying summery jasmine and the faint whiff of cool frankincense burning inside a Greek Orthodox church preparing for the country's most devout celebration: Easter. Flora Nerolia is like a snapshot of late Lent in Greece and for that reason is absolutely precious to me.

Vanille Galante by Hermès
One of my latest infatuations, this water-ballet of lily and vanilla pod is uttely charming on skin that is coming out of hibernation like migratory habits of exotic birds which come back to nest on one's roof, their happy melodious sounds signalling the final coming of warmth. If Vanille Galante were a bird it would be a Kookaburra.

Fiori di Capri by Carthusia
If wood is the Chinese symbol of elementals for spring, then Fiori di Capri is not out of place, thanks to its distinctive oak-y vibrance beneath an intensely indolic peppery carnation and some innocently coy lily of the valley. Allegedly based on an original fragrance by Father Prior of the San Giacomo Monastry on Capri, made in 1380, the scent is just this side short of being a ticket to either the verdant Capri itself or the vertiginous heights of the Balcon de Europa in Nerja, Malaga.

Une Fleur de Cassie by Frédéric Malle
The catty-animalic pong of cassie hiding in this gem floral in the Editions de Parfums line-up is an emblem of a formidable perfumer, Dominique Ropion. Cassie flower is succulently and troublingly feminine with its intimate aura of consumed bodies and here it reveals its facets unapologetically, with a little carnation as a counterpoint sumptuously combined with vanilla and sandlwood. Wearing it makes me feel like La Veuve Aphrodissia in Marguerite Yourcenar's Nouvelles Orientales collection of short stories: the impossible alliance between passion and social conventions.

Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens
If Carnal Flower is my default tuberose for summer thanks to its green humid airness and slight coconutty deliciousness that makes it tropical and modern to the 9th degree, Tubereuse Criminelle is just the right rite of passage worthy of a Stravinsky suite to prepare the grounds for summer and thus perfect for this transitional period. Its camphoric opening is akin to spectacular and beautiful weirdness.

Amoureuse by Parfums DelRae Roth
Pry under a delicate constellation of petals and you come face to face with something more naughty than you would ever imagine at first: the genitals of a living organism; on this occasion a flower's! The spicy, heady, at once green and floral coalescence of Amoureuse, seguing to musky perfection is unashamedly sexy and reminiscent of what spring is all about: nature's season for mating!


If you have a moment to spare the following little online test might tell you which flowers' scented style might suit you best.

What are you wearing or planning to wear this sping?


All photos copyright Helg/Perfumeshrine

The Agony and the Ecstacy part1: sadomasochism in fragrance

The rather outré title of this new latest series on Perfume Shrine is not meant as a direction to non-perfume venues of a niche of a quite different nature than that of the likes of afficionados of Lutens or Malle. Because here we will most certainly include perfume references by those two and lots of others, exploring just how certain scents play up on our subconscious and produce feelings of sensual surprise, olfactory submission and adoring intimidation or on the contrary a heightened sense of domination over all we survey.
If only Le Marquis and Leopold von Sacher had explored those avenues more fully.

Before we proceed any further, please note that the following are musings and thoughts that do not bind the author and are not meant to condone or approve of any practice or misunderstanding that you might have in mind. (This disclaimer of sorts is necessary to include because the term has been so much abused and tied to issues that are peripheral to it that it has gained a reputation that is inaccurate).

Perfume is fantasy. It has a weird effect on the psyche. And tied as it is to memory and sexuality it brings out elements of both to the fore, whether we desire it or not. Of course apart from the infamous Hirsch studies on what scents arouse and attract the opposite sex ~which are the matter of Googling searches all the time~ more importantly there is the element of how a particular fragrance makes the wearer themselves feel. This is the apex of the matter to my mind. Because perfume is so often worn for the enhancement of a mood or the desire to extol certain properties of the individual's personality, how one perceives said personality or mood is paramount when choosing what to wear. So a perfume with innocent, cherubic ambience would be more likely to evoke or pronounce a mood of traditionally viewed submissive femininity whereas a butch leather would reinforce the notion of a dominating persona. Or even the reverse if one is playing with boundaries and values the element of surprise!
Therefore are there specific perfumes that explore those pathways of the mind and playfully twist and turn them upside down for a perfume lover's rejoice? I think there are.

As cinematic experiences are so often deeply ingrained into Perfume Shrine, the quintessential film that displays the weird dynamic of an S/M relationship resplendent with a couple of perfume references is none other than "Il Portiere di Notte"/"The Night Porter"(1974) by Liliana Cavani featuring exquisite actors and personal favourites Dirk Bogarde and Charlotte Rampling. The film tells the tale of an ex-Nazi who falls in love with one of the Holocaust victims as many years later, both alive ~she, Lucia, a married woman; he, Max, a night porter~ they meet again at a Vienna hotel and reprise their strange affair surrounded by a hostile former Nazi crowd who seeks to gain power again with Max's assistance.
The doomed relationship of the two lovers reflects both aspects of control and surrender in alternating roles of great cinematic value. And although the mere thought of the Holocaust is assuredly distressing, the film manages to be respectful of the issues raised and focus on the personal angle rather than the historical repercussions.
You can watch a superb clip of it clicking on the screen or clicking here.


For an elaborate and long piece of how a viewer interprets the storyline I direct you to this post by The Scented Salamander.
Succinctly put:

Perfumes in Night Porter appear to be used to express ideas about sexuality, class, and inter-subjective relationship. Perfumes here, instead of elevating and idealizing the characters, making them appear more desirable and noble, are brought in to express not love, but prostitution, not attraction, but repulsion, not refinement but coarseness, not harmony, but destruction, not love, but a pathological manifestation of it.

There is also this link that mentions it in the context discussed.

Indeed perfumes in this film are seen through an altered lens and make us view scent as a means of control, rejection, social climbing or even manipulation and domination. It is an interesting axe to grind and worth pondering on.
So what would the ex-Nazi in hiding wear or the beautiful formerly submissive Lucia who reprises her role with a twist of unexpected ferocity?

As leather has been so ingrained into associations with S/M and isobutyl quinoline is the main ingredient used to render leather notes in perfumery, apart from the natural process of curing birch tar, I would propose Knize Ten for the character of Max. The fact that it comes from as far back as 1924 and Vienna in particular did not escape my attention either and may have contributed to this choice.
The history of Messrs. J. Knize dates back to 1858, based in Vienna. Within a little while fashion tailor J. Knize was appointed purveyor to K&K Royal Court and by the turn of the century many famous people, heads of states, artists, and industrialists were clientele to Knize. During the 1920s Knize's boutiques for men were established in the fashion cities of Paris, New York, London and Berlin. Although other scented offerings by Knize have been discontinued the iconic perfume remains still in production.
The fragrance is immediately redolent of raw cured leather that is pitch-black and tight, fits like a glove and is stained with the old fashioned aroma of smoke and a bit of turpentine. This shocking introduction laced with citrusy notes is testament to the power and suggestion such a smell holds over willing subjects. Woody and floral notes of subtle spiciness tone down this perverse beast resting it on a slightly powdery and incensy drydown that surprises yet again with its unexpected twists. Max in it would exude all the force of his uniformed days, when he could chop off the head of a prisoner who bothered his lover and present it John-the-Baptist-like to his own Salome. And yet he would also hide the pain that we can see in his eyes as he realises that there is no future for them, when they dare to exit the bastion of their seiged apartment towards dawn.

And Lucia would be sublime wearing none other than the infamous, the exquisite, the jarringly sexy beauty of Tubéreuse Criminelle (=criminal tuberose) by Serge Lutens.
Its reputation precedes it as people either love it or hate it but they all remain astounded by the sheer innovation of it at the time it first launched, directing others into exploring difficult notions of bracing top notes that might shock and disturb. A scent that is definitely meant for people into a certain degree of sadomasochism, as the opening note of mentholated Vicks rub hits your nostrils with the ferocity of a typhoon to subside after a little while into an armload of rubbery tuberose married to soft spoken buttery lilies. A soothing, warm, human caress after the sting of pain.
Comparable to what Jean Cocteau had said about Marlen Dietrich and her name: "Starts with a caress; ends with a whipstroke". But in reverse. Which makes it eminently suitable...


Next post will continue with more perfume and film suggestions on the naughty path. You have been warned!

Top pic courtesy of sadist.gr Clip comes from Youtube. Pic of Knize Ten comes from basenotes.net. Pic of Charlotte Rampling from charlotterampling.net

Benefactor from Parfums d'Armando Martinez: fragrance review

There is an underappreciated quality when judging perfume, especially among people who love it. That quality is wearability.
It might sound like a dirty word when every other fragrance release from the major companies is akin to putting on a mass-marketed piece of clothing that is being produced in Bangladesh, bearing the insignia of a well-known commercial designer no less. But I assure you that wearability is much more than what meets the eye. It is precisely this quality, often elusive in the niche arena of scents, that accounts for the success of Armando Martinez's perfumes.

From his first foray into Perfume Shrine with the powdery rose and violet honeyed tones of Maquillage, to his masterpiece aldehydic, pearly white floral Pillow of Flowers, Armando has been playing with good quality natural ingredients and aromachemicals that are blended in an ultimate caress of softness and plushness that would never alienate the lover of pleasant aromas. His creations do not lack uniqueness and to wit one could very well mention the mould-breaking herbal Satyr which is certainly different and stranger than most similar attempts on the market. Yet even then, there is a base element that ties loose ends with a pacifying tone like a familiar lullaby one has been carrying in one's mind since childhood.

And it is in this context that Armando's latest fragrance, a shared scent that can be worn by both sexes, Benefactor, is entering the scene; a glimpse of Salome's veils for the delectation of oriental lovers everywhere.

"Benefactor, a scent that envelopes the wearer in a cloak of roses, vanilla and agarwood. A modern take on the age old arabic perfume. An oriental that is unisex.
Benefactor's notes include: bergamot, camphor, turkish rose, saffron, vetiver, atlas cedarwood, vanilla, and agarwood".

(quote from Armando Martinez site).

Although a camphoric opening might predispose one for The Agony and the Ecstasy of none other than the perverse beauty of Tubereuse Criminelle by Lutens or even his equally strange yet lovely Borneo, in Benefactor the effect is subdued and short-lived enough to not jolt you into shock, yet challenge the nostrils with its peculiar aroma paired with a little culinary saffron, that spice that colours Middle Eastern dishes with its rich golden hues. As the camphoric note dissipates, a sweet and powdery rosiness like that in loukhoums emerges swan-down like from the mélange of notes with a little vanillic underscoring. At this stage the cosiness and softness is eminently beautiful without ever becoming insipid, with agarwood/oudh, that weird wood also appearing in the comparable Black Aoudh by Montale, so prized in arabian perfumery, playing the role of basso continuo all the while; providing the austere backdrop that veers the whole into the unisex universe of scents.
A simple composition that never loses its charm, it has the benefit of making one feel at once warm, cuddly and familiar with just the right touch of opulence, daydreaming of a harem in the Arabian Nights.

If interested in purchasing a 2 ounce spray bottle or requesting samples, Mando is charging $65.00 a bottle for each of his creations, directly from his site: Click here.
They are currently for sale also in Europe on First in Fragrance/Aus liebe zum Duft website. Click here for details.

Painting of Harem comes from travelinstyle.com