Rousse by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 2007

Notes: mandarin, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, cedar, amber

In one's opinion, Serge Lutens completely lost the plot around 2006.

With subsequent releases that were either lighter offerings or inferior re-workings of earlier creations, this house has never really made a full recovery. It was bad enough that the chief perfumer, Christopher Sheldrake, started working for Chanel, but it was even worse to discover that most of the creations were reformulated years before Serge, himself, finally came clean. And let's not forget the price increases on the inferior reformulations...

Rousse is a prime example of the sudden shift in this house's approach – a mellow, soft and candied cinnamon scent, which is closer to Claude Ellena's minimalist style than any archetypal fragrance from this house's glory years. It isn't as full-bodied or complex, and it's far too sheer with below average longevity.

Recalling the demure (but more substantial) nature of Douce Amère, Rousse is utterly devoid of any real sense of adventure. It's too conventional and betrays everything that this house once represented. With younger niche houses rapidly eclipsing its once unique and ground-breaking olfactory concept, Serge Lutens' gradual fall from grace has been rather painful to witness.

Santal de Mysore by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 1997

Notes: spices, cumin, caramelised Siamese benzoin, styrax balsam, Mysore sandalwood

Comment: Santal de Mysore is part of the exclusive line

There was a time when Santal de Mysore was a personal Serge Lutens favourite. It was also one's first bell jar acquisition... only to be sold off a couple of years later.

The human nose can be so promiscuous: one minute, your olfactory senses are enraptured by a new discovery that you yearn to possess, only to become weary of its charms (for whatever reason) weeks, months or years later. With one's sense of smell constantly evolving, such fickle tastes have now been kept firmly under control, largely due to both hindsight and experience. As for that bell jar, one doesn't have any regrets.

A soft cumin, spices and caramelised syrup extravaganza literally sums up Santal de Mysore. The sandalwood makes its presence known from the very beginning but its prominence doesn't last particularly long – instead, it quickly recedes into the background. One can still discern traces of sandalwood but it remains shrouded within a sweet, spicy and ambery curry aroma for the majority of the composition's linear duration.

With a creamy coconut aura, its sillage is minimal with below average lasting power. Although one isn't entirely sure if earlier batches were more heady and longer-lasting, one has since concluded that sandalwood essential oil (Mysore or any other variety) provides far more satisfaction... and without any cumin in sight.

Un Bois Vanille by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 2003

Notes: liquorice, coconut milk, black vanilla, caramelised benzoin, tonka bean, marzipan, beeswax, guaiac wood, sandalwood

Being an ardent fan of vanilla-dominant fragrances, Un Bois Vanille isn't the straightforward creamy vanilla that one had originally been led to believe. Instead, it's more of a caramelised vanilla offering.

Unfortunately, it consists of various constituents that one finds too onerous to warm-up to: an unpleasant burnt sugar note, plenty of vile liquorice, coconut (yet another personal no-no accord) and a calorie-inducing overdose of creamy vanilla (so much that it smells as if the composition's in danger of curdling). As a result, it sadly fails to appeal to one's insatiable vanillic sensibilities.

Supported by a rich woody base, it remains rather linear throughout. While its sillage is satisfactory, it's not as tenacious as one had hoped. With that said, the quality is certainly there but it touches on too many personal olfactory aversions for one to fully enjoy (hence a charitable extra star).

Muscs Koublaï Khän by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 1998

Notes: cumin, Moroccan rose, patchouli, labdanum, vanilla, beeswax, costus root, ambrette seed, castoreum, civet, ambergris

Comment: Muscs Koublaï Khän is part of the exclusive line

To be honest, one has never managed to comprehend all the fuss about Muscs Koublaï Khän, especially since one doesn't even remotely consider it to be animalic (let alone redolent of sweaty private parts).

Yes, it does contain hints of civet and castoreum but these notes are extremely subdued behind a powdery veil of ambergris, ambrette seed, beeswax and vanilla. Instead, one mostly detects a demure, sweet, and slightly creamy floral musk. Not only does it smell inoffensive but it's also somewhat feminine in its demeanour.

Staying very close to the skin and possessing decent longevity, it's both a soft and pleasant comfort scent that defies this house's well-renowned dense and syrupy-sweet motif. Maybe one is simply anosmic to some of the musks that others have, quite eloquently, commented on but it's by no means the raunchy or even filthy musk it's often alleged to be.

Maybe the vintage formulation (yes, it was reformulated quite some time ago) was far more challenging but one believes that the combination of cumin and costus root (reputed to smell like body hair) have helped to create nothing more than an olfactory illusion, especially when fused with the composition's musk cocktail.

Faecal? Well, one dares you to try Ajmal's AA Indian Pure Musk Ghazelle. After smelling this potent musk oil, one guarantees that Muscs Koublaï Khän will be seen in a completely different light.

Daim Blond by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 2004

Notes: Sri Lankan cardamom, hawthorn, iris pallida, heliotrope, apricot kernel, leather, musk

For a considerable length of time, Daim Blond was quite difficult to grasp. Looking back now, one was probably expecting something typically Lutens-esque, while hoping for a very robust leather affair. Unfortunately, it wasn't as rich and tenacious as previous Serge Lutens releases, and nor was it what one was expecting.

However, one still continued to test it occasionally. Indeed, the apricot kernel, iris and leather accords were no less inviting but it still wasn't full bottle-worthy. And then, one day, something happened – its enigma suddenly renounced itself and its true nature was finally revealed...

The thing is, perceiving it as a leather-dominant fragrance will only court disappointment. It isn't strictly a take on leather but more on suede, and it's an important fact that should be acknowledged. Also, one will go out on a limb and proclaim that it isn't a dominant suede scent either. Although the suede plays an important role, it's often overlooked that musk is also a significant note in the composition. As a result, one would classify it more as a fruity musk, with subtle floral and suede undertones. One believes that if it's perceived in this way, it might be better appreciated.

Personally, one still considers its performance to be too timid, ephemeral and relatively muted (but, then again, one has never been that enthusiastic about white musk scents). However, based on the above, one urges you to approach it once more – both from a completely different perspective and without any prejudice.

Arabie by Serge Lutens

*****

Year: 2000

Notes: candied mandarin peel, dates, dried figs, cumin, nutmeg, clove, myrrh, Siamese benzoin, tonka bean, cedar, balsamic resins, sandalwood

Comment: Vintage formulation review

When one first sampled Arabie, a few years ago as a niche fragrance novice, it wasn't very well-received. It was extremely tenacious, with a claustrophobic sweetness that was both overwhelming and over the top. But such qualities soon compelled one to revisit it by dabbing more on every so often.

After depleting half of the sample vial, it was unreluctantly given away as one still wasn't completely won over by its charms. However, as time went by, its memory continued to prevail within one's sub-consciousness. So, several months later, while investigating other fragrances in the stores, one unexpectedly felt the urge to give it another try. And then another. And then another...

The thing is, Arabie is a very tough nut to crack, and it requires more perseverance and patience than most of the challenging niche scents available on the market. As already mentioned, it wasn't easy falling in love with it – in fact it was almost a constant struggle. But now that perseverance has finally paid off, one is finally able to appreciate it for what it represents: a highly condensed and complex fruity-gourmand, comprising of spices and dried fruits stewed in a syrupy woody sweetness.

Although some may consider it to be too overbearing, one personally considers it to be just as versatile as any other revered scent, especially once that moment of revelation comes (if it ever does). Also, its resinous nature enables it to be worn effectively well during the warmer months – it may be very sweet but don't let that fool you into thinking it's strictly a cold weather scent.

Yes, it does smell like a spicy fruitcake and, yes, its pungent and dark fruitiness does strangely remind one of Christmas. However, if nothing else, its exotic demeanour is highly evocative of sweet North African and Middle Eastern delicacies. Arabie is brash, blatantly unapologetic and totally unconventional, and still remains Serge Lutens' best olfactory creation.