s

SmellyBlog

Serge Noire

Japanese Temple Incense

I'm much behind on checking out "new" scents, including this "recent" offering from the leading niche house of Monsieur Lutens... I've been skimming through new releases with very little interest in the past few years (in case you haven't noticed the waning volume of perfume reviews here). And when yet another fragrance with artificially blackened subtitle showed up, I've become not even in the least curious about it... However, aside from the (lame) name, Serge Noire was a pleasant surprise: it is the liquid version of Zu-koh, AKA Japanese body incense.

My first encounter with Serge Noire gave me the impression that it's yet another violet-cedar oriental, full of ionone and cedrol. Then, when I tested it at Sephora it smelled entirely different, and totally won my heart: Camphoreous-woody and underlined with balsamic sweetness. I was smelling a whiff of of borneol camphor at first, sprinkled with cassia and over a looming backdrop of dark woodsy notes of patchouli, cedar wood and sandalwood. The finishing touch is a base of powdery, comforting puff of amber and vanilla. And it is a dead ringer to Tokusen by Shoyeido, which I adore.

If you're unfamiliar with the experience of body incense (zu-koh), this is a special blend of powdered woods and spices that were originally intended for purification before prayer. Instead of washing one's hands before entering a temple, you'd sprinkle your hands with this powder and rub your palms with it. It can also be worn much like liquid perfume - a sprinkle on the chest or behind the ears and on the wrists and inside bend of the elbows. You'll be enveloped in a dusty cloud of spice and wood, and enjoy the benefits of incense (minus the smoke) or perfume (sans the alcohol). I'm very fond of this perfume, and it makes one feel both sensual and spiritual at the same time... It is how I'd imagined the "char black" perfume that is mentioned in Memoir of a Geisha... It is sensuous, and at the same time also inspired meditation and contemplation, bringing instantly a magical, ancient feeling of serenity and deep thought, as deep as the roots of the trees it came from.

Surprisingly, Serge Noire is the first Lutens in many years that I feel the urge to purchase. However, to my dismay, the carded sample I originally got still smells too much like the signature Lutens cedar-honey-violet accord which was originally introduced in Feminite du Bois. It's not so much about my personal preference but more about how much this style was copied over and over by "niche" brands that made it feel redundant and no longer original... Such is the nature of trends, unfortunately. I'll have to go to Sephora to try it again and make sure the bottles they carry are more like the body incense and less like artificial cedar and violets. Alternatively, I can just revisit my Tokusen zu-koh and enjoy what I have.

It also reminds me very much of a special Japanese incense that my friend Noriko brought me from a temple in the countryside.

Scent Safari: Video Review for Komorebi



Maximilian Must Know Episode # 431 (Scent Safari - Ayala Moriel)

First video reviews ever for Ayala Moriel Parfums! And first review of my new perfume Komorebi - yayMaximilian compares it to Serge Lutens' Fille en Aiguilles, and says describes it as redolent of "woods, some forest funk, and this note of pine-like tree sap with some berries (...)" . FYI the vial titled "Forest Amber" is really Komorebi - before I had a name for it.

Also reviewed in this episode: Etrog, Film Noir, Espionage:
"The key word with these fragrances from Ayala is quality, development, power and performance (...) there is no gimmick (...) really high quality perfume made with passion and ingenuity and no shortcuts (...) This is as good as it gets. These are regal fragrances, fit for royalty". 

A La Nuit

Under the moonlight

A La Nuit is moonlit jasmine in all its glory. Jasmine is both radiant and forceful, delicate and at the same time larger-than-life.

This jasmine night opens with the intoxicating perfume of the flowers as they intensify in the dimming sunlight of summer sunset. As the light turns from burnt orange and hot pink into deep indigo, silvery streaks of moonbeams shine light on the little flowers on a climbing vine.

I've already expressed the difficulty to describe jasmine as a standalone. How can one explain its scent, dissect its facets and do it justice? I feel the same about A La Nuit, because it is a true jasmine perfume. It shows jasmine's complexity and beauty without sugar-coating it, prettyfing it with a bunch of musk and/or vanilla, nor exaggerating its already outspoken character.

The first time I smelled A La Nuit I thought to myself "It smells like jasmine, what's the big deal?".  If it wasn't for all the jasmine garbage that's out there (and which much of which I've been testing in the past three weeks), I would have dismissed this remarkable achievement. A La Nuit is a rare case that smells like the living and breathing flower, or the freshly picked blossoms before they undergo any extraction - by solvent, enfleurage or any other method. It's the pure scent of the tender flowers as you tickle your nostrils with their cool petals and just dive into this otherworldly, yet at the same time very earthly indulgence. The description on LuckyScent is quite neat and accurate, also just as a writeup on jasmine. Smelling A La Nuit also reminds me of Mandy Aftel's words:
"Its small, white, waxy blossoms exhale a perfume so peculiar as to be incomparable. TO walk past the flowering shrub in the evening is to be enveloped in the most glorious door, which turns an ordinary street corner into a boudoir." (Fragrant, p. 205)

My only reservation about this perfume is not exactly its longevity, but its evolution. On me the sensational stage of jasmine lasts a very brief, even if euphoric time. But perhaps this is a blessing in disguise - as I find too many floral fragrances to be cloying and headache inducing. It does, however, paint a jasmine-y picture without boiling down to the redundant musky-vanilla boredom that I've been mostly smelling in the last few weeks. Of all the jasmine-themed perfumes I've tested, this is by far the best, rivalled only by Jasmin Rouge. But given that my buying priorities usually favour purchasing raw materials over fragrances - I'd take the nearly $400 that both bottles cost, and spend it on an ounce each of the best ever jasmine grandiflorum and jasmine samba absolutes!


Vitriol d'œillet



Vitriol d'œillet is not so much about angry carnations, and more about toxic violets. Chemically speaking, vitriol is the archaic name for sulphate (also spelled sulfate), referring to its colourful, glassy-looking crystals, and brings to mind alchemy, magic and medicine (The name originates in Latin (vitrum means glass) and Old French); And œillet simply means carnation in French. Vitriol is also defined as "cruel and bitter criticism" - also an interesting note because this perfume has received such lukewarm reviews at the time (it was launched in 2011) that I didn't even bother procuring a sample.

A few days ago, however, I was pleasantly surprised to find a wide selection of Serge Lutens at Sephora on Robson Strasse. I immediately fell for Vitriol d'œillet's mysterious opening that is at the same time floral, warm, powdery, spicy and mysterious. Pink pepper, mace and a gentle dose of helioitropine, anisaldehyde and a hint of jasmine combined with ionones give both mystery and familiarity that is comforting and intimate. There is hardly any of the characteristic molecules of carnation (iso-eugenol), nor cloves (eugenol); but rather, pink pepper reigns supreme above all the spices here, giving it a bit of a cool edge, rather than the expected spicy heat.



Rather than conjuring up the jagged petals of the clove pinks, Vitriol d'œillet's juxtaposition of heliotrope, jasmine and anise brings to mind angel's trumpet (or datura) and combined with violets it creates a very interesting fragrance.

As Vitriol d'œillet progresses on the skin, it becomes less complex, and more about cedar wood and violets, accentuated by musk, and vaguely references the Lutens-Sheldrake original collaboration on Feminite du Bois, sans the honey, much more toned-down spices, and an additional pencil-shavings note of Virginia cedar wood. It also brings to mind two other favourites of mine - Si Lolita and Ineke's Sweet William, yet is a lot less spicy and vibrant than these two. Another scent it greatly reminds me of is Kisu by Tann Rokka. While these are all lovely perfumes, neither has the same audacity as Tubereuse Criminelle, the other flower for the Lutens collection that Vitriol was meant to emulate.

Top notes: Pink Pepper, Nutmeg, Black Pepper, Anise
Heart notes: Carnation, Iris, Cloves, Jasmine 
Base notes: Atlas Cedar, Virginia Cedarwood, Musk, Heliotropine

More reviews of this perfume can be found on the following perfume fora and blogs:
Basenotes
Bois de Jasmin
Fragrantica
Grains de Musc
MakeUpAlley
Now Smell This
Perfume Shrine
The Non Blonde

Rose Berlin

How about a visual review for a change?With Serge Lutens' newest perume release for 2013, La Fille de Berlin, I was expecting this:
Makani Terror by _MissAgentCooper
Makani Terror, a photo by _MissAgentCooper on Flickr.
But got this instead:
Hybrid Tea Rose 2012 by neggatiff
Hybrid Tea Rose 2012, a photo by neggatiff on Flickr.

What will lure you in immediately are the distinctive tea rose with only the slightest soapiness - the iconic and familiar sharpness of the Perfumers' Workshop Tea Rose immediately comes to mind. Once it touches your skin, La Fille de Berlin quickly turns into an uber-sweet tea rose and violet-candy affair, reminiscent of the sweet-spoken Bvlgari pour Femme, only with a higher price point and slightly intriguing spice to stop it from being as cloying. Musky woody notes at the base give this retro theme a more current flavour; and a hint of leathery saffron note is the only thing that gives it a “niche” edge. Other than that, Serge Lutens’ La Fille de Berlin is a crowd-pleasing 2-syllables rose, obvious and leaving no room for guessing. The dryout is continously rosy, changing into plum-like damascones and raspberry-jam darkness that's reminiscent of Ivoire's dying words; and a very subtle animalic aspect of sandalwood against the smooth-warm-cool wood of Moroccan cedar lurks underneath, very subtly and surprisingly does not embody what you'd expect from Lutens - or from a Berlin girl. I really expected some more thorns and instead got a very conventional, although well-made sugary rose.

Top notes: Tea Rose, Black Pepper
Heart notes: Rose, Crystallized Violet, Safranal
Base notes: Musk, Atlas Cedar, Raspberry, Sandalwood
  • Page 1 of 3
  • Page 1 of 3
Back to the top