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.

Smoke is the origin of perfume: an ancient ritual of burning resins to create and purify mental space and exalt one’s soul to connect to the divine. By fire and alchemy physical matter (resins, spices) transform into spirit through smoke.

Burning loose incense is one of my most favourite ways to experience and enjoy fragrance. There’s something magical about the transformation of golden frankincense tears into smoke. Sparks fly when the charcoal is lit on fire, and that’s just the beginning of the excitement. Once the heat takes over the charcoal, a few precious resinous tears are placed on the ember. At first, they just rest quietly with their majestic dusted gold appearance. But soon enough, they can’t stand the heat any longer and begin to sweat their perfect aroma into the air, which turns from invisible vapours in the first few moments into smoldering smoke the next.

Frankincense has a way of affecting the human mind, coaxing it into relaxation and a meditative state of consciousness. The mere act of burning incense connects one to different elements of nature: fire, wood, metal. It gives me a sense of connection to my ancestors, the deserts of the Middle East and ancient rituals that were meant to bring people closer to themselves and closer to the gods. When I burn incense, a fransformation occurs in front of my eyes, taking over my space with its smoky perfume that is at once balsamic, sweet, woody, resinous, fresh and calming. All that remains to do is to let go and devote oneself to the experience this ancient perfume

With Liquid Fume I tried to create a perfume that captures the experience of burning incense, within the liquid medium of grain spirits. Without any matches or charcoal and real smoke, I tried to bring a sensation of warmth, dryness and the rich, resinous balsamaic odour of burning frankincense. I tried to imagine the most dense incense condensed in a bottle, with the warmth of embers and the dripping honey of melted frankincense tears… This is what I hope Liquid Fume will be for you.

Frankincense is of course the core of this perfume. But other notes were added for bringing out different qualities of an incense burning ritual: Virginian cedarwood and guiacwood were chosen for their smokiness, liquidamber for its molden-gold sweetness, helicrysum and labdanum absolutes for their rich, sweet honeyed and resinous qualities, and sweet orange to brighten everything up and remind us of the fresh, almost citrusy aspects of frankincense.

Top notes:
Sweet Orange, Virginian Cedarwood, Copaiba Balsam

Heart notes:
Liquidambar, Guiacwood, Atlas Cedarwood

Base notes:
Golden Frankincense, Labdanum, Helicrysum Absolute

Liquid Fume one-of-a-kind perfume is available on AyalaMoriel.com or via Etsy.

From a Western point of view, Japanese don’t seem to be taken with perfume. At least not the way we define it. I’ve heard too many stories about the Japanese market, for example – the many unopened perfume flacons displayed in Japanese home as evidence that clearly Japanese are uninterested in fragrance and perhaps even to the extent of criticism - i.e.: Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.

However, preference for smaller objects (i.e.: 1/4oz flacon rather than a 5oz spray bottle) and appreciation for the flacon design should not be mistaken for dislike of aroma or inability to enjoy and appreciate scent. If anything, the Japanese have a history of designing unique containers for their scents – since Japanese traditional clothes had no pockets, they’ve designed inro for men - these were tiered boxes for storing small items such as incense and medicine; and silk sachets and kinchaku for the ladies, as well as beautiful lacquered boxes with intricate and stylized botanical designs for storing cosmetics and aromatics. Also, a special accessory was developed for the sole purpose of hanging the kimono in front of incense to scent it. Not to mention they have used scent to indicate the passing time with an incense clock!
These all indicate that aromatics - and especially natural ones - play an important role in Japanese culture and are much esteemed – and this is true for both the past and the present.

The reason for the Western misunderstanding of Japanese perfume-culture is two-fold: The physical form of perfumes enjoyed in Japan is different; and the scents themselves are far more subtle and gentle than Western perfumes – both commercial and historic.

While Western perfumery has evolved from incense into liquid perfumes (mostly alcohol base and recently also with other liquid bases such as oil or silicone), Japanese perfumery has remained mostly focused in the mostly raw materials – dry aromatics that emit their fragrance as they are (i.e.: sachets and powders) or when burnt (incense). This stands in line with the Japanese love for purity and perfection. As with any cultural differences – this can either be perceived as a technological disadvantage that limits the scent palette; or a point of difference that makes scent cultures across the world more interesting and makes traveling just a little more meaningful in this time of globalization where you can pretty much find anything anywhere.

Japanese seem to dislike the scent of alcohol (which could also explain the preference for parfum extrait - these formulations have less alcohol and more essence, thus reducing the impact of alcohol in the opening phase of the perfume). In addition, they are fortunate to have very little body odour and therefore don't feel the need to mask it as much as us Westerners are inclined to do.

As for the aromas themselves – similarly to the cuisine in Japan, Japanese perfumes (i.e.: incense, sachets and body incense powder) are subtle and use a more limited palette of aromatics. The most dominant component is woods: local woods such as cedar (Hiba) and pine (Hinoki) and the more exotic ones imported from the south – agarwood (Jin-koh) and sandalwood (Byaku-dan). Especially with the sandalwood and agarwood, there is much attention to grades – affected by how and where the trees were grown – so much that they have many different names (i.e.: Kyara is the name for the most prized grade of agarwood, which is the most rich and dark in aroma). Other significant aromatics in traditional Japanese perfumery are gum-resins such as borneol and camphor, myrrh, frankincense and benzoin; roots such as galangal (alpinia) and spikenard; patchouli leaves; and spices – cloves, cassia, cinnamon and star anise.

To truly appreciate the subtleties and slight difference between one incense or another, one must develop a sensitive nose; just like one’s palette has to be trained to truly understand and appreciate the art of tea and the subtle differences between one kind to another – after all, teas are all made from the exact same species!

The picture above is of sachets by Shoyeido incense company, sent to me by Yoko (she has been extremely generous and helpful in satisfying my Japanese olfactory culture curiosity!). They are for scenting Kimonos, and are usually tucked into the sleeves. This not only helps to make your kimono smell wonderful, but also helps keep away the silk-hungry moths. It smells spicy and camphoreous – but in a rich, luxurious way. In fact, it smells very much like a high quality carnation soap (which is one of my favourite things to tuck among my clothes); and smells nothing like moth-balls. There is an air of tranquility to all of the scents I’ve experienced from Japan. They smell like a dark room in an antique wooden house, and that’s how I imagine houses in Japan to smell like. There will be only one way to find out!