Perfume Review: Amouage Lyric (Man)

Posted on July 12, 2013 by Kafkaesque

A sonata of perfectly modulated notes that tinkle like Chopin. An idyllic Post-Impressionistic landscape worthy of Cezanne which combines an almost brooding, dark solidity with flickers of light, softness, warmth and sweetness. The illusion of a single, sweet rose in the midst a dry hay-field, bracketed by piercingly dark, strong, green notes, but planted in sweet, dark earth and festooned with creeping tendrils of smoke. And, yet, also, the illusion of a green tunnel of light leading to a glowing, hidden rose in a peppery, woody world that is lightly tinged with vanilla and musk.

Source: Fragrantica

Lyric Man is a paradox of simplicity and complication, a fragrance that isn’t enormously layered at all, but which creates a flurry of different, competing images in one’s mind. I can’t quite figure out what I feel when I wear it — and it is a scent that doesn’t suit my personal tastes — but it is a fragrance that I admire and think would be damn sexy on the right guy (or gal). Lyric Man (hereinafter simply just “Lyric“) is an eau de parfum from Amouage that was created by Daniel Vasentin and released in 2008. It is supposed to be a predominantly spicy rose fragrance but, on me, Lyric Man was primarily a very woody one, infused with galbanum and angelica green, and with only a subtle, almost abstract rose.

Lyric Man. Source: Fragrantica.

The Amouage website describes Lyric Man and its notes as follows:

Evoking the sombre sound of eternity this spicy oriental fragrance is a dedication to the rose infused with angelica. Created for the confident gentleman who dares to desire.

Top: Bergamot, Lime
Heart: Rose, Angelica, Orange Blossom, Green Galbanum, Spicy Ginger, Nutmeg, Saffron
Base: Pine, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Musk, Frankincense.

A few words about the notes. Angelica, for those who may not be familiar with the note, comes from a plant whose oil was often used in making liqueurs or in flavouring gin. It often has a strong aroma of celery with a peppery nuance. As for galbanum, it is the resin of a Persian plant, and has a sharp, pungent, acrid, very green smell. It’s a significant part of Lyric, so it’s worth exploring the full range of its character a little further. As Wikipedia explains:

Galbanum

Galbanum was highly treasured as a sacred substance by the ancient Egyptians. The “green” incense of Egyptian antiquity is believed to have been galbanum. Galbanum resin has a very intense green scent accompanied by a turpentine odor. The initial notes are a very bitter, acrid, and peculiar scent ^[6]^[7]^[8] followed by a complex green, spicy, woody, balsamlike fragrance. When diluted the scent of galbanum has variously been described as reminiscent of pine (due to the pinene and limonene content), evergreen, green bamboo, parsley, green apples, musk, or simply intense green.^[9]^[10]^[11] The oil has a pine like topnote which is less pronounced in the odor of the resinoid. The latter, in turn, has a more woody balsamic, conifer resinous character.^[12]Galbanum is frequently adulterated with pine oil.

Lastly, oud is not listed as one of Lyric’s official elements and, yet, on both occasions when I wore it, I detected what felt like a dry agarwood with a strong hay overtone. The note was nothing like pine, but something in the woody base of Lyric definitely felt like very peppery oud to me. I chalk it up to the combined effect of the galbanum with the angelica, though I truly think there must be a drop of agarwood in Lyric Man somewhere.

Bergamot. Source: a1.ro

I wore Lyric on three different occasions, and in different temperatures throughout the course of its development. It was always the same scent, though different notes did feel a little more prominent in the humidity than in cold air-conditioning and vice-versa. The opening was, however, the same in each case: citrus and hay. Lyric opens with crisply fresh, zesty, almost bitter lime, and slightly warmer bergamot. The coolness of the citruses disappears in less than a minute, turning sweeter and softer. All around, a note of what definitely smells like hay circulates; it’s dry, lightly peppered, and with an undertone of agarwood. Lurking at the very edges is the rose which feels almost like a tea-rose in its sweet, soft pinkness.

It, too, is infused with the dry hay, but the main influence on it is galbanum. I’m not a huge fan of galbanum with its sharp, pungent edge, and it was a powerful part of Lyric’s opening during two of my three tests. So much so that it creates a visual blanket of dark green. It’s got an earthy, moist undertone, much like newly hoed, fresh, loamy soil that’s been rendered a little damp by the morning dew. There is also a nuance of slightly mossy, mineralized greyness to it, though that may just be how my nose interprets galbanum’s pungent intensity.

“Flower Power” by Etsy store, MatamuaArt. (Link to site embedded within photo.)

Ten minutes into Lyric’s development, there are some changes in focus. The lime note recedes to the background; the rose feels even softer and more muted; and the dry woodsy and green notes take over. It’s as if they form a tunnel which will lead you to the rose at the heart of the fragrance. The angelica adds to the visual greenness of the tunnel with its dry, dusty nuances and a definite aroma of celery. It also seems to accentuate the hay-like impression of the woodsy elements. Dry and peppered, the hay-oud note is sometimes sweet and sometimes a little smoky. Trails of frankincense bind the floral and wood notes together like a ribbon.

Dancing at the very edges are some spices. I don’t smell any nutmeg but, instead, something that feels like a combination of saffron, coriander and cardamom. There is a subtle whiff of ginger but, like much of the rose note, it’s delicate and subtle on my skin. I don’t detect orange blossom in any concrete, noticeably distinct form, but there is something that seems a little like dried orange peel which showed up in one of my tests. It didn’t return on the subsequent times I tried Lyric. Instead, what showed up was a slight soapiness underlying the perfume. It was subtle, and felt almost more like aldehydes with their occasionally waxy characteristics than actual, true soapiness.

“Celery Forest.” Photo: Carl Warner. Source: npr.com

At the end of the first hour, Lyric turns even greener. The rose note which was always very soft seems to retreat to the side, while the galbanum and angelica take over. The galbanum loses its earthy, wet soil base, and turns into something that is slightly piney with evergreen, musky accords. Combined with angelica’s noticeable celery and pepper tonalities, they bracket the muted rose, turning it a little drier and less sweet. 90 minutes in, the incense grows in strength and starts to infuse with the rose which is now a fully peppered rose. There is still some sweetness, but the beautifully balanced incense and subtle spices, in conjunction with the peppered oud-y, piney wood, have ended any similarities to a tea-rose.

Lyric becomes softer and simpler with every hour. By the end of the third hour, it loses its greenness, turns much more woody in nature, and begins to hover only an inch or two above the skin. A quiet, diffused muskiness stirs at the base along with a whiff of sweet vanilla, but the fragrance’s primary characteristic becomes more and more that of a peppered cedar with an oud-like nuance followed by muted rose and equally muted incense. The vanilla, however, becomes more noticeable as time goes on, taking on a creamy richness, but always in an airy, light manner. Around the eighth hour, like a symphony winding down, Lyric begins its final stage: fluctuating levels of peppery, smoky wood with sweet, musky rose over the gauziest of vanilla bases. It’s odd to me that Lyric became a more rose-y scent towards the end, almost as if all the other notes had to be stripped off to let it really show.

Whatever the notes, Lyric is now even simpler, softer, and closer to the skin, until it finally fades away as a woody sweetness that is faintly redolent of rose and musk. When worn primarily in temperatures of great humidity interspersed with occasional bouts of air-conditioning, Lyric lasted just a little over 9 hours on my skin. When worn mostly in the air-conditioning with only occasional bouts of the great, humid outdoors, it lasted approximately 11.25 hours. At all times, its sillage was moderate at the start, then soft — much more so than many Amouage scents on my skin, especially the female versions.

Abstract Rose by James-Chesnick via kootation.com

During all three of my tests, the rose never felt like the primary focus of the scent until quite a few hours into the perfume’s development and, even then, I was surprised by how muted it was on my skin. To me, Lyric varies from being a woody-green-rose scent to being a green-woody-rose scent, with the “green” in this case always representing galbanum and angelica as opposed to a green flower. Sometimes, the incense was more apparent, sometimes there was a flicker of vanilla more at the start instead of just towards the end, and once, there was that soapy, waxy aldehydic feel to the perfume in its early hours. But, at no point was Lyric a primarily rose-rose-rose fragrance that had the other notes trailing behind in secondary or tertiary positions. In truth, it’s not a massively complicated scent at the end of the day, but it is a pretty one and so well-blended that I suspect it will reflect different facets at different times.

Lyric doesn’t suit my personal tastes (I much prefer Jubilation XXV amongst Amouage’s men’s fragrances), but I might recommend it for those who like dry, woody, peppery rose scents. Interestingly, a large number of men in places like Basenotes or Fragrantica say that Lyric Man is far too feminine for them; in contrast, a lot of the men I know in perfume groups or elsewhere absolutely adore it. It obviously depends on your spectrum of tastes, and your views on what constitutes a “feminine” fragrance. For me, personally, I usually end up preferring the women’s versions of Amouage fragrances because they are not as dry, while being bolder, more potent, and powerful. In the case of Lyric, however, I had such an atypical experience with the women’s version (where it was not really a rose scent on me at all, but a ylang-ylang one), that I think The Non-Blonde‘s discussion of the two scents will prove helpful:

Amouage Lyric Man opens quite green and almost zesty. It adopts a tree bark quality as the fragrance folds and becomes sweeter, while the angelica note takes center stage. I can’t get enough of it as I adore angelica in just about any form– herbal, syrupy or rooty. It’s my catnip. […][¶]

But what about the rose?!

Amouage Lyric Man deserves its own place in my list of rose perfumes for anti-rose people. The rose is obviously there, and I can smell it in every stage of the development. But it’s almost abstract, or at least doesn’t try to imitate a live flower. Instead, perfumer Daniel Visentin who created Lyric used the beautiful rose note to support and even contrast the other things that are happening there. The velvet feel of the petals against the harder edges of bergamot and galbanum or the sharpness of the spices. The rose is almost low-key but not quite: just when you think that Lyric Man is a wood, spice, and frankincense perfume you breathe it in and realize just how refined and elegantly woven is the olfactory fabric that makes up this complex scent.

Some men prefer to wear Lyric Woman because it’s bolder and darker. The frankincense in the base of Amouage Lyric Man is gentler than in Woman, where I find that it can be a bit too much at times. Perhaps that’s why my very personal preference is for Man and why now I’m intensely coveting a bottle– I know that I’ll wear it a lot more than the diva Woman.

My tastes usually align very closely with that of the Non-Blonde, but I really don’t share her obsession with galbanum. (The mere word alone makes me frown and wince a little. And I’m not so keen on angelica, either, by the way.) Plus, I prefer more frankincense, along with bolder “diva” aspects in my personal scents. “Low-key” and muted really aren’t my thing. That said, I think her assessment of the notes in Lyric Man is spot-on, especially about the nature of the roses and incense.

Lyric Man generally seems to be well-liked, even amongst some women, but there are also a large number of very vocal dissenters. In various Basenotes threads, such as this one, the main thing that keeps coming up is how Lyric Man is too feminine. On Fragrantica, the primary criticisms seem to be, in a nutshell, that it’s too muted, soft and lacking in intensity. People simply don’t think that Lyric has a hell of a lot of rose, let alone incense or woodsy notes. A number of commentators on Fragrantica also bring up the soapiness issue. As noted earlier, it only popped up briefly on my skin in one of the three tests, and always in the most muted manner. Plus, it felt more like waxy aldehydes than pure soap, but there was so little of it lurking in the base that it’s hard to be sure either way. Yet, enough posters detected varying degrees of soapiness — culminating with one poor chap who said Lyric Man was exactly like Yardley’s English Rose soap after 20 minutes — that it is clearly something to be aware of.

If I’m to be perfectly candid and really honest with you about Lyric, I have to confess a few things. I wouldn’t give Lyric a passionate, glowing recommendation. It took me 3 tests and an equal number of days to write this review because Lyric simply didn’t inspire much positive emotion. In fact, writing all this has felt a lot like being subjected to a root canal. Although I admired Lyric at times and could appreciate its quality, the perfume left me really and truly unmoved — verging on the apathetic and uninspired. It damn well gave me writer’s block. At the end of the day, I feel as though I should like Lyric, but the truth is, I don’t — and I don’t know if it’s just me. I keep blaming my own personal tastes. Maybe I just am not hugely enthused about the dryness of some of Amouage’s masculine fragrances, though clearly that wasn’t a problem for Jubilation XXV. Maybe I should blame it all on the fact that I don’t like galbanum or angelica, let alone together at once. (Shudder.) Or, maybe, Lyric Man truly and objectively isn’t the cat’s meow. I don’t know. However, I genuinely and truly do think that it’s a fragrance that would be incredibly sexy on the right skin. On a man with muskier, sweeter skin, it could be downright addictive to sniff. But it’s not my cup of tea.

DETAILS:

Cost, Availability, Sales & Sets: Lyric Man in an eau de parfum that comes in two sizes: a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle that retails for $255 or €180, or a 3.4 oz/100 ml eau de parfum that costs $300 or €220. You can buy Lyric in both sizes directly from Amouage. There is also a Miniature Men’s Set available which contains 6 x 7.5 ml bottles of different fragrances, including Lyric Man, available at the Amouage site for €180. However, Lyric Man in the small 1.7 oz size is on sale at Beauty Encounter for a discounted price of $201.30 instead of $255. There is free domestic shipping (with international shipping for a fee). I don’t know how long these special discount prices will last. I should add that I’ve ordered from BeautyEncounter in the past with no problem, as have many of my friends, and they are a very reputable dealer. The large 3.4 oz/100 ml size is also currently on sale at StrawberryNet for $255 instead of $300.

In the U.S.: the authorized Amouage dealer is Parfums Raffy which sells Lyric Man for a sale price right now of $245 or $290, depending on size. There is free domestic shipping and free Amouage samples with order. Parfums Raffy also sells a 6 Piece Men’s Sampler Set of different Amouage fragrances for $50, and the vials look like they are 2 ml each, but there is no indication of actual size. Luckyscent carries both sizes of Lyric Man. The larger size of Lyric Man can also be purchased online at MinNY, Aedes, Parfum1, or the Four Seasons. MinNY also sells the Miniature Men’s Set (which includes Lyric man and 5 other fragrances in 7.5ml size) and which it is selling for $240.

Outside the US: In Canada, The Perfume Shoppe offers both sizes of Lyric Man, along with sample sets and more. There is free worldwide shipping, I think. The perfumes are listed at the same price as in the U.S., despite the fact the CAD prices are usually higher, so you may want to drop them an email to inquire. In the UK, Lyric Man is available from Harrods or Les Senteurs where it costs £145 or £175, depending on size. Samples are available for purchase from Les Senteurs. There is also an Amouage boutique in London. In France, Lyric Man is available in the large size for €215 from Premiere Avenue, or from Jovoy in Paris. In Germany, Lyric Man is available at First in Fragrance where it costs €185 or €205 (depending on size) with free shipping within the EU and shipping elsewhere for a fee. In Italy, with worldwide shipping, Lyric Man is carried in both sizes at Essenza Nobile for €185 or €255, along with a sample for sale. In the Netherlands, the large size is carried at Babassu. In Australia, both sizes are available at Libertine for AUD$266 or AUD$326, depending on size, as well as the Mini Men’s Gift Set described above for AUD$280. For other countries, the Amouage website has a “Store Finder” which should, hopefully, help you find the perfume somewhere close to you.

Samples: You can buy samples of Lyric Man from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. The site also sells samples of the Lyric body lotion, and a Sampler Set for 7 Amouage men’s fragrances which starts at $29.99 for 1/2 ml vials. The Parfums Raffy sampler set may be a better deal for some, given the 2ml size of those vials, even if it is $50 for just six (instead of 7) fragrances.

Random Blog Stuff, Serge Lutens & Surrender to Chance Sale

Posted on July 9, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Hello everyone, I hope you’re having a good week! Just a quick post about random stuff:

The Hairy German before the big medical center. You can tell he knows nothing good is in store for him....

The Hairy German before the Small Animals medical center at Texas A & M. You can tell he knows nothing good is in store for him….

First, my normal reviewing schedule will be very off this week, as I have an old childhood friend from Monaco who is in town for a few days and I haven’t seen him in ages. Plus, I’m on a bit of a roller coaster as it pertains to The Hairy German’s health. My seventh surgical attempt to get him the badly needed hip implant failed 10 days ago, so I’m now juggling various medical suggestions, and will probably go to see a whole new set of specialists and surgeons. From four doctors, he’s now going to have a whole lot more. I think I’m more exhausted by the whole thing than he is!

Second, and in perfume news, Surrender to Chance is having a sale on some brands. Most of you get their email notifications, but this one was only posted on their Facebook page from what I can tell. The sale is 15% off ALL Serge Lutens, Etat Libre d’Orange, and Byredo products. The code is: SergeEtatByredo and the sale ends on July 11th at midnight, Central U.S. time, so that is 10 p.m. for those of you on the West Coast and 1 a.m. on July 12th for those of you out East.

Now, the code cannot be combined with their normal and usual promotional codes. They do offer a way around it though:

If you want to order some fragrances that are on sale this week and other fragrances not on sale using the July discount codes, you will need to place two separate orders, but just note on one that you would like the orders combined, and we will refund your shipping charge on one of them!

In addition, they have the Daily Chance special on the new Le Labo Ylang 49 fragrance that I reviewed recently. It is 8 mls for $19.99 (normally $26.99). The general July discount codes are as follows:

5% off with code Sparkler

8% off orders totaling more than $75 with code Hotdog

Now, given my slight … er… fondness… for Serge Lutens, I’ve decided to do (at least) seven days worth of Serge Lutens in a row, starting next week. Maybe even more than seven, though I don’t think I’ll manage every single day in a row, given the length of my normal reviews and the fact that Serge Lutens fragrances are often more complicated than most. (Even I have to sleep once in a while!)

I’m going to review quite a bit of the non-export, Paris Exclusives line, which is clearly an exercise in frustration, futility, and financial masochism. Honestly, I don’t expect those reviews to engender more than a mere shrug or intellectual curiosity, given that the perfumes are only available in the U.S. for a massive mark-up at $290 instead of the usual Euro price of €120. But I’ve wanted to try some like Mandarine Mandarin, Bois de Violette, La Myrrhe, Sarrasins, Iris Silver Mist, and others for ages. There is also Fumerie Turque that I’ve meant to review for a while, but which has somehow gotten shunted to the side all too often.

I also have regular import Lutens fragrances as well, like Musc Kublai Khan, Ambre Sultan, Fille en Aguilles, Rousse, Un Bois Vanillé, and Cedre, so that will alleviate the frustration of being tempted by a bell jar exclusive. I’ll pick and choose amongst them, but if you want to give a shout out for a favorite to make sure that it is covered, let me know. (Sarrasins, Mandarine Mandarin, Ambre Sultan and Fumerie Turque are certainties for immediate review.) Bottom line, I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with my obsession for all of next week, though I really will try not to give you 10 days of Serge Lutens. (How I am tempted!) I’m fully aware that some of you are not quite as enamoured with Uncle Serge as I am, so I will try to restrain myself…

His Highness

Lastly, I have been (and will continue to be) a little behind in replying to comments this week, so I hope you will forgive me and accept my apologies. It’s been very hectic between The Hairy German’s medical issues, entertaining my friend, making plans for my holiday trip back home to Europe in the fall, and trying to catch up on some sleep so I don’t collapse. I promise I will reply to things as soon as I manage to come up for air.

So, that’s that with housekeeping and blog stuff. Are you tempted to get anything from Surrender to Chance in their special Lutens, Byredo, or Etat Libre sale? Or samples from any other line? Have you encountered any perfume that had made you weak in the knees? If so, what is it?

Perfume Review – État Libre d’Orange Fils de Dieu

Posted on July 8, 2013 by Kafkaesque

He brings the sun.

Bringing the warm joyousness of the sun by way of a perfumed ode to the Asian tropics — an ode that sparkles with the very brightest of zingy, crisp citruses; that luxuriates in the creamy sweetness of sticky coconut Thai rice; and that strokes you with the velvety headiness of jasmine, before turning into a soft, golden, amber embrace. That is the journey offered by Fils de Dieu, a unisex eau de parfum from the whimsical, playfully avant-garde, often satirical, always provocative French perfume house, État Libre d’Orange (hereinafter just “État Libre“). The perfume’s full name is actually Fils de Dieu, Du Riz et Des Agrumes which means “Son of God, of Rice and of Citruses” and, to make matters a little more confusing, used to be called Philippine Houseboy. (Terrible name! Thank God for the change.)

Fils de Dieu was created by Ralf Schweiger, and was released in 2012 to much acclaim, landing in the Top Five of CaFleureBon‘s Best Perfumes of 2012 list. The perfume veers far outside the parameters of my usual style or preferences, but I actually like it and think it would be a great, easy, casual summer scent.

État Libre describes Fils de Dieu and its notes as follows:

He brings the sun.

Fils de dieu comes from the Philippines to spread a message of warmth and enlightenment. Here, find an innocent wisdom that points to dreams and liberation. This is the golden eye that reflects beauty and conflict, rapture and pain. Fils de dieu is an emotional fragrance, a scent that requires a sympathetic connection between the server and the served, the giver and the taker, and the willingness to exchange roles.

Composition : Ginger, coriander leaves, lime, shiso, coconut JE, rice, cardamom JE, jasmine, cinnamon, may rose, tonka bean, vetiver, musk, amber, leather, castoreum…

I have no idea what “JE” stands for, but let’s move on. What caught my attention with Fils de Dieu is how it can be many different fragrances in one. I tested it twice — once in chilly, air-conditioned temperatures, and once in muggy warmth. The first time, and with the impact of the cold, I noticed Fils de Dieu had three, distinctly separate stages that can be summed up essentially as follows:

Stage One: Almost all crisp, aromatic citrus cologne notes – about 90% citrus, 8% lemongrass-y vetiver, and 2% jasmine;

Stage Two: Primarily jasmine in nature – about 75% jasmine, 15% citrus, 5% lemongrass-y vetiver, and 5% other notes;

Stage Three: A whole other perfume — fluctuating levels of vanilla and amber for the most part, followed by spices, a dash of castoreum, and flickers of other elements.

Yet, it was an entirely different matter when I turned off the air-conditioning (which was a painful experience given where I live), and let the tropical humidity do its work. In the sort of thick, wet air that must resemble Fils de Dieu’s Philippine inspiration, the perfume bloomed to become the sort of scent it was clearly intended to be: a slightly sweet ode to Thai food, interspersed with exotic, tropical, heady jasmine, custardy vanilla, citrus, spices, and sensuous warmth.

THE FIRST TEST:

Let’s start with the first test, where Fils de Dieu bewildered me by being a crisp, citrus cologne for the entirety of its opening. The perfume starts on my skin with fresh shiso that smells minty, just lightly peppery, and incredibly fresh. Within seconds, it is joined by zesty lime and bergamot, both shining brightly with an almost translucent radiance.

Source: onlyhdwallpapers.com

Fils de Dieu quickly softens, with the citrus notes fading to slightly more muted levels, and flecked with a bright rose tonality, along with the merest hint of airy jasmine. Then, the citrus comes back, stronger and heartier than ever, only this time headed up by bergamot. As always, its main companion is the lime, which feels a wee bit bitter now. Rounding out the top three notes is vetiver which has a very lemongrass-like nuance here, instead of its more common, rooty, dark, or earthy characteristics. Five minutes later, a rice note creeps in. It’s milky, barely sweetened, and evocative of boiled jasmine. The note is so insubstantial, however, that it really takes vociferous inhalations to detect it for the brief moments that it’s there.

For the next 90 minutes, Fils de Dieu is nothing more than a masculine sort of cologne on my skin. It’s citrus, more citrus, a dash of vetiver, a few drops of jasmine, and that mysteriously vanishing rice note. There is a minute, tiny, faint hum of synthetics at the base — something I’ve noticed in all Ralf Schweiger’s fragrances to varying degrees — but there are no spices, no vanilla, and absolutely no coconut whatsoever. I actually felt a little cheated, given all that I’d heard about Fils de Dieu’s supposed resemblance to Thai Curry. Well, not on me, at least not under chilly temperatures… Over time, the strength of the main notes varies (and, sometimes, the jasmine feels much more dominant), but, ultimately, there is no escaping the citruses and the cologne impression.

Rice stalk via nsf.gov

Then, 2.25 hours in, Fils de Dieu changes. Parts of my arm now emit faint traces of really sweet, boiled rice infused with jasmine; another part wafts jasmine with amber and a touch of castoreum; and a third (much smaller) part is simply nothing more than lemongrass vetiver and cool lime. It’s bewildering. Clearly, Fils de Dieu is a beautifully blended, well-crafted fragrance that reflects different notes at different times. But, for the majority of this test, it was “fragrant” in the most aromatic sense of the word, as something that was primarily citrus and jasmine in nature.

Salted Caramel & Nutella Rice Krispie Treats. Source: The Mini Baker. (Click on photo for link to website and the recipe.)

The slow progression of the scent continues, morphing slowly into its third and final phase. Around the third hour, Fils de Dieu turns into jasmine fragrance with a sweet, dry vanilla that has a lightly perfumed finish and the merest hint of cinnamon. At the four-hour mark, however, the perfume has a complete metamorphosis, turning into an ambery butterfly with an almost boozy edge. It’s plush, nutty, infused with cardamon and cinnamon, and has a distinctly toffee undertone. The rice note pops up again, but this time it’s toasted; it smells a little like Rice Krispies would — if they were covered by toffee, cinnamon and amber.

Source: layoutsparks.com

The amber is beautiful here, with the sort of rich depth that you’d normally find in ambergris — but without the salty, marshy, slightly sweaty characteristics of the element. I chalk the rich depth of the note to the castoreum which definitely accounts for the subtle tinge of sweet musk lurking around Fils de Dieu’s edges. Underneath the amber is the lightest suggestion of leather that feels very smooth, supple, warm, as if it had been burnished by sweet resins. There is no longer any vanilla to distract from all the gold, bronze, umber visuals. As time passes, the perfume continued to soften and the notes turn more abstract.

A little short of 8.25 hours in, Fils de Dieu finally fades away, nothing more than musky, ambered sweetness. Its sillage was moderate at the start, continued to drop after the first hour, and then faded away to a skin scent around the middle of the fifth hour. The truly astonishing thing, though, is the degree of change. Between the spices, the languorous, castoreum-infused resins, the sweetness, and the plush richness of the scent, Fils de Dieu did a complete 180 from its opening as a crisp, citrus cologne. You couldn’t get a more drastic change — which is why I decided I needed to test the perfume under very different conditions.

SECOND TEST:

For my second test, I turned off the air-conditioning, opened the windows, and let the humidity of the muggy swamp outside invade my office. The heat wave has left, so the difference in internal temperature according to the thermostat only seems to be about 16 degrees, but the humidity is easily close to 90%. And what a difference that made to Fils de Dieu! It suddenly turned into the fragrance that it was supposed to be.

Shiso Leaf and Lime. Source: Sweetfineday.com (Link to website embedded within photo.)

Shiso Leaf & Lime. Source: Sweetfineday.com (Website link embedded within photo.)

Once again, Fils de Dieu opens as a citrus scent with the brightest of green notes. There is shiso leaf with its lightly peppered, minty aroma, followed by lemon and bergamot – both as airy, fresh and bright as a blade of grass. A quiet sweetness soon infuses the notes, turning them into something warmer, richer, and less crisp. Hints of vetiver, still with a lemongrass nuance, creep in. So do the lightest hints of vanilla and ginger (something I never detected at all in my first test).

Coconut Lime Rice Custard. Source: medifoods.co.nz –

But then, it all changes, and far more quickly than it did the first time around. No less than twenty-five minutes into the perfume’s development, Fils de Dieu turns into a scent that is primarily sweet rice boiled in coconut cream and sprinkled by a light veil of jasmine! The bergamot, lime, and light green herbs are still there, but they are mere seasoning to accentuate the main dish.

Double boiled coconut cream dessert via womenworld.org.

The rice note is strong, sweet and lactonic, infused by coconut that feels, simultaneously, both like the light, delicate milk, and the richer, buttery cream. At the same time, there is a strong flutter of lemon-tinged coriander leaves at the back; the ginger feels slightly sweetened; and the vanilla takes on an eggy, custard richness that’s speckled with lime. Good heavens, what a sharp contrast! Fils de Dieu remains that way for hours and hours, fluctuating only in the degree of some of its notes, but never changing its primary essence. On occasion, cinnamon will make a small appearance, but that’s about the only difference.

Coconut Lime Rice Pudding Brulee via Becks & Posh blogspot. (Click on photo for the recipe and website link.)

Then, around the end of the fourth hour, there are changes. The rice note goes from milky sweet to something that is toasted and, again, strongly calls to mind Rice Krispies. It is covered with a light toffee and with a vanilla note that is still custardy but, now, it also has a powdery aspect to it. All the notes sit atop a base of plush amber that has been enriched by the warm, light, musky, velvety aspects of castoreum, along with cardamom and cinnamon. It’s all very muted, light, soft and very sheer — and quite a contrast to the rich, heavier, deeper base of Fils de Dieu during the cold temperature test.

Clearly, the humidity sucked all the richness out of the amber marrow because the drydown never reached the same depths with the heat. Starting in the sixth hour, the perfume feels more like simple, generic, uninteresting amber with some sweetness and musk. In its final moments during the second test, as in the first, Fils de Dieu was just sweet muskiness, and nothing more. Oddly enough, the heat seemed to extend the lifespan of the scent which lasted 11.25 hours on my skin, instead of 8.25. I can’t quite understand it because it seems like it should be the reverse, unless the heat just makes the musk bloom. As for the sillage, it was even softer than usual with the heat.

OVERALL:

The differences in the test show something beyond just the impact of climate. They demonstrate just how well-blended the fragrance can be, throwing off different notes under different conditions. In all cases, however, the perfume didn’t feel wholly and completely gourmand in nature, despite the foodie resemblance to certain Asian dishes. The simple reason is that Fils de Dieu isn’t massively sweet; the citrus elements help ensure it never verges on the cloying and keep an element of freshness about the scent. And it really is a very fragrant one, in the best sense of the word.

Is Fils de Dieu revolutionary, edgy, and funky? Absolutely not! Is it cozy, comforting, incredibly easy to wear? Definitely. I don’t know how often one would normally want to smell like Fils de Dieu’s more rice-centered notes, but I think the perfume’s different personalities give one some options. Its more zesty, aromatic, citrus freshness in cold temperatures makes me think that those who want to avoid a “foodie” scent can use it in cooler weather, while those who enjoy the sweetly lactonic, rice and jasmine aspect can opt for the summer months to let it really bloom.

There seems to be quite a bit of love for Fils de Dieu in the perfume community, but there are also plenty of people who don’t find it all that interesting. For example, Now Smell This was distinctly unimpressed, with Kevin writing:

Fils de Dieu opens with gingery lime, and “green” coriander and pungent shiso leaf. As the sprightly opening notes begin to disappear (and they disappear fast), the scent of “nutty” coconut makes a brief appearance and then…? Fils de Dieu begins to disappear. Was that IT?

Fils de Dieu is one of those scents that falters and then makes a comeback. After the opening fizzles, the comeback notes are mild jasmine, hazy vetiver, dry, tonka bean-scented rice (to my nose, this is more a toasted rice note, not steamed rice or rice pudding) and…leather (the most “background,” powdery, see-thru leather note you can imagine). Fils de Dieu’s rose note is very mild; it disappeared quickly on my skin, but I could detect it on my shirt for hours. Fils de Dieu’s base notes smell of shamefaced musk (certainly not the bold castoreum I was expecting) mingling with a light amber-y accord. […][¶]

Fils de Dieu is only semi-tropical and, for me, doesn’t conjure a houseboy, a sunny god, or the Philippines (or any Southeast Asian locale). Fils de Dieu does remind me of old-style, lightly spiced white floral feminine French perfumes from long ago.

I wonder if he tried it with the air-conditioning on? Like him, I smelled nothing tropical in my first test either, though I did have that wonderful drydown with the chilly temperature which seems infinitely better than what he got. Oddly, CaFleureBon‘s experience seems to be a mixture of both of mine together:

The Asian vibe is accentuated right from the top notes of Fils de Dieu as a tart lime and smooth shiso leave no doubt about what part of the world your nose is located in. Ginger and coconut join in to add a tropical facet to the early going. The shiso and the coconut really are the stars in the top notes. M Schwieger chooses only one floral note for Fils de Dieu; jasmine. He surrounds the jasmine with a steamed rice accord and a spicy duo of cardamom and cinnamon. The rice accord is beautifully realized and M Schwieger uses it to add a palpable humidity to the heart of Fils de Dieu. The base notes are animalic but kept exquisitely balanced and well controlled. Leather, musk, and castoreum create a slightly sexual accord over a healthy foundation of vetiver and amber.

Over on Basenotes, the tropics and food also seem to be the main conclusions of the day — but few consider Fils de Dieu to be as nuanced or as good as CaFleureBon did. Most of the commentators talk about Thai food or curries, though one found Fils de Dieu to be primarily citruses and vanilla that turned a little coconut-y at the end to create an average, spicy oriental that, in his opinion, veered sharply from État Libre’s best. Food — and rice, in specific — are also the focus at Fragrantica where, unlike at Basenotes, the posters generally seem to adore Fils de Dieu. One commentator found the fragrance to be primarily jasmine and vanilla, but the majority experienced the full complement of notes, with a number talking about the rich, musky, amber drydown.

I don’t like very foodie scents and I cannot abide anything gourmand, but I would wear Fils de Dieu. Granted, not all that often, but it’s an easy, uncomplicated comfort scent in my opinion, and I enjoyed different parts of each of its split personalities. For me, the sweet, heady jasmine and the zesty, fresh citruses prevent the fragrance from verging too heavily into either problematic category. Once Fils de Dieu loses its purely shiso-lime-bergamot facade, the overall bouquet keeps you coming back for one more sniff. Plus, it’s thankfully not sweet enough to be a true dessert scent. And, it’s very affordable, too! That said, I would not recommend Fils de Dieu to someone who dislikes even minor foodie elements in their perfume, nor to someone looking for a highly complex, sophisticated scent. Also, I think that a man who doesn’t like sweeter floral fragrances may find Fils de Dieu to be a little feminine in nature, despite the citrus top notes. But if you’re looking for a casual, cozy, sunny fragrance, give Fils de Dieu a try. You just may want to turn decrease the air-conditioning when you do so….

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Fils de Dieu, du Riz et Des Agrumes is an eau de parfum that is most commonly available in a 1.7 ml/50 ml size, but which can also be purchased directly from Etat Libre’s website in a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle as well. The prices listed there are in Euros: €69.00 for a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle, and €119.00 for a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle. Samples are also available for €3.00. In the U.S.: Fils de Dieu can be purchased from LuckyScent for $80 for a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle, with samples for $3, and from MinNY. You can also purchase it from Parfum1 which offers free domestic shipping. (International shipping is available for a fee.) Outside the U.S.: You can purchase Fils de Dieu from Etat Libre’s new London store at 61 Redchurch Street, as well as from its Paris one located at 69, rue des Archives, 75003. Elsewhere in the UK, I found Fils de Dieu on the NkdMan site for £52.50 for the 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle and with free UK delivery. It is also sold at London’s Les Senteurs for £59.50, with samples also available for purchase. In Germany, Fils de Dieu is available at First in Fragrance in the small size for €69. The site ships worldwide. In the Netherlands, I found it at ParfuMaria in the large 100 ml size for €119. In Hungary, I found it at Neroli Parfums, while in Italy, it’s available at ScentBar and in Spain, it’s sold at The Cosmeticoh. In Russia, I think it’s sold at iPerfume, but I can’t read Cyrillic to see if it’s available for online purchase. For all other locations or vendors from Canada to the Netherlands and Moscow, you can use the Store Locator listing on the company’s website. Samples: you can order a sample of Fils de Dieu from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $4.75 for a 1 ml vial.

Perfume Review- Serge Lutens Santal Majuscule

Posted on July 6, 2013 by Kafkaesque

There is a special beauty to sandalwood from Mysore, India. It’s incredibly rich, smoky, fiery, spicy, buttery, creamy, and undulating with sensuous depth. It’s a vision of red and bronze, and its incredibly smooth, luxurious aroma can’t be replicated by anything. Which is not only a damn shame but a huge problem as well, since the wood is so rare at this point that it might as well be extinct for the purposes of most commercial perfumery. Simply put, few perfumers can afford the real stuff, so they try for substitutes. The most common alternative is Mysore’s cousin, Australian sandalwood, whose creamy beigeness pretty much epitomizes its scent. It’s arid, endlessly beige, generic, and nothing spectacular.

Source: Mountain Rose Blog, sellers of Australian sandalwood essential oils. http://mountainroseblog.com/choose-australian-sandalwood-essential-oil/

Australian sandalwood. Source: Mountain Rose Blog, sellers of Australian sandalwood essential oils. http://mountainroseblog.com/choose-australian-sandalwood-essential-oil/

The same description applies to Santal Majuscule, the relatively new, sandalwood fragrance from Serge Lutens, and to its main problem in my eyes. Santal Majuscule is supposed to be sandalwood writ large, with even its name translating to “sandalwood with a CAPITAL letter!” But it’s not Mysore sandalwood, and the beige, chemical-laden, dry, generic woodiness that it does incorporate really isn’t very good at all.

Source: Serge Lutens via Facebook.

Santal Majuscule was released late in 2012 as a sandalwood alternative for Serge Lutens’ export line, meaning it would be available worldwide. Created by Christopher Sheldrake, it is a scent that is supposed to be all about fairytales with a long video (read by Serge Lutens) about a little nine-year old boy in armour on his horse who brought life to gold, flowers and fire. On his website, Serge Lutens more succinctly describes the scent as

Sandalwood written in capital letters, full scale and life sized!

Oboedi silentiis meis non imperii: “Do not obey my orders, obey my silence”.
Turning powdery under the influence of bitter cacao, the sandalwood plunges deep into a velvety trap.

The perfume’s notes aren’t complicated and, according to both my nose and Luckyscent, seem to be:

Sandalwood, rose, cocoa, tonka bean and immortelle [my addition, and something also noted by a few other blog reviews].

The very first flicker of Santal Majuscule on my skin is of rose. Beautiful, sweet, tender and visually pink, it almost immediately turns a little dusky through a heaping dose of cocoa powder. The latter is glorious and, initially, so dark that it almost evokes a coffee bean or mocha. Quickly, the cocoa-laden rose is joined by immortelle which has a definite maple syrup undertone.

Pure Australian sandalwood timber. Source: tfscorporation169.en.ec21.com

Then, a sharp, acrid, synthetic and very chemical-smelling starts to bully its way in. It comes from the wood, and is harsh, peppered, and ever so lightly touched by ISO E Super. That’s actually not the problem at all. Rather, it’s the damnably acrid, almost pungent, incredibly strange and weird nuance to the sandalwood. I have to wonder if Lutens and Sheldrake used something similar to the supposedly sustainable, new kind of Australian sandalwood that Frederic Malle featured in his Dries Van Noten, because the wood note feels very much the same here: creamily generic, artificial, and reeking of a faintly gourmand sweetness. Here, however, the wood is also infused with a sharply chemical edge. The blog, State of the [Car]nation, had a review very aptly (and amusingly) entitled: “Ceci n’est pas santal – Santal Majuscule by Serge Lutens” in which he wrote:

So this is a spicy woody floral, but the wood is just another conventional accord dominated by the soft textures of cashmeran, iso-e-super and the likes. There is nothing here close to an actual Mysore sandsalwood note.

Real Mysore sandalwood in chips and slivers. Source: huile-essentielle-biologique.fr

Now, I understand that real sandalwood is just a perfumista’s pipe-dream these days (unless you opt for Neela Vermeire‘s stunning creations which abound with gallons of the real thing), but the problem with Santal Majuscule is not the absence of Mysore sandalwood so much as it is the chemical underpinnings to the substitutes. I truly wouldn’t be surprised if Santal Majuscule’s Australian sandalwood was supported by cashmeran and similar wood synthetics, as detected by the other blog. Again, there is nothing wrong with seeking out alternatives, but why the hell do they have to smell so unpleasant here?

In those opening moments, the notes flit about like moths around a flame. The glowing light — and the best part of the perfume — is the cocoa powder which sits like a Buddha as the rose and immortelle dance around it. An odd, buttered note creeps in, smelling almost like an incredibly rich, buttered biscuit or cookie. The rose starts to change, feeling almost more like dried petals than anything syrupy or jammy. It has a peppery bent to it, thanks to the incredibly subtle tinges of ISO E Super at the base, and it starts to be a little less of a wallflower.

“Dried Rose Petals” by Tom Mc Nemar via Fineartamerica.
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/dried-rose-petals-ii-tom-mc-nemar.html

The most gorgeous part of the perfume, in my opinion, however, is the cocoa. Simply lovely! Though it started out feeling so dark that it almost had a coffee bean element to it, now, the powder is sweeter, richer, and verging on the most expensive milk chocolate. It doesn’t reach that level of sweetness, though — nothing about Santal Majuscule is really gourmand in nature thanks to the dryness — but the cocoa is much richer and creamier than it was at the start.

Unsweetened cocoa powder. Source: wellsphere.com

Twenty minutes in, Santal Majuscule changes a little in the underlying nuances. The wood loses a bit of its chemical pungency, turning sweeter and just barely less dry. Now, it feels like a blob of generic, beige woodiness with some sweet undertones. No, I’m not a fan, and no, it’s not because I’m a sandalwood snob. (Well, maybe just little….) It simply isn’t all that special, and it certainly doesn’t feel like the star of the perfume, let alone warranting the title “Sandalwood with a capital letter.” It’s more as if the sandalwood is a mere accessory to the real stunner in this fragrance: the cocoa powder. In the background, the immortelle loses its maple syrup undertone, changing into its more floral counterpart. The light, almost herbal, dry, woody elements to floral immortelle balances out that flittering butter cookie note, but neither one is very prominent, especially as compared to the sweet, dried roses.

What’s interesting is that the overall combination of notes creates a strong impression of something that almost verges on nutty, gingerbread cake. You know the sort of moist banana bread loaf? Here, it’s a bit like that, only there is a touch of ginger in it, creating an overall moist, just barely sweetened, nutty, bread note. Again, I’m reminded of Malle’s Dries van Noten with its odd, sustainable Australian sandalwood note that was dry, creamy, sweetened, and the foundation for a fragrance that smelled very much like snickerdoodles on my skin. While that perfume had a significantly more foodie, gourmand character to it, there something of the same feel to Santal Majuscule. I chalk it up to the ersatz sandalwood.

Santal Majuscule remains the same rose-cocoa-sandalwood accord for the next seven hours. Only at the end does it change a little, turning into amorphous, dry woodiness. All in all, it lasted just a little over 8 hours on my skin, with initially moderate sillage that turned into a skin scent midway towards the end of the third hour. At no time was I bowled over by any of it. Santal Majuscule isn’t a bad fragrance, but it’s nothing spectacular or very interesting. It’s simple, uncomplicated, and pleasant, I suppose, with a truly lovely cocoa powder element, but that ersatz sandalwood… ghastly. No, it’s definitely not my personal cup of tea.

There seems to be a split in opinion on Santal Majuscule with one half of the reports I’ve read loving it, and the rest dismissing it (for much the same reasons I have). The first thing everyone does is bring up Jeux de Peau, another Lutens fragrance which is supposed to have a few surface similarities. I haven’t tried it, so I can’t comment, but the consensus seems to be that the two perfumes are ultimately nothing alike and that Jeux de Peau is gourmand, richer, more bread-like, and heavier, while Santal Majuscule is drier and with different core elements. Others put Santal Majuscule in the context of Lutens’ other two sandalwood fragrances which are Santal Blanc and Santal de Mysore. I haven’t tried those either, so again I can’t comment, but the conclusion seems to be that Santal Blanc is significantly sweeter and whiter, while Santal de Mysore is more spicy, fiery, smoldering and dark. Perhaps that is why, over at CaFleureBon, Mark Behnke considers Santal Majuscule to be the case of Goldilocks’ sandalwood, fitting in as the perfect middle version.

Other assessments are more ambivalent. There is an even split at Basenotes, where some adore it, while others shrug and say it’s pleasant but uninteresting. Damning with faint praise seems to be the order of the day, even at Now Smell This which asked where the hell is the sandalwood? In a review which finds Santal Majuscule to be perfectly pleasant, but not inspiring much ardent enthusiasm, Kevin astutely concludes:

Overall, Santal Majuscule presents a mix of ‘seasoned’ woods and rose. But, as with Santal de Mysore, I must ask: where’s the sandalwood? There does seem to be a “sandalwood-like” aroma simmering under the roasted woods, rose and gourmand notes, but it never gets a chance to shine (or shimmer). Santal Majuscule smells most like sandalwood two hours after application when the wood turns sweet with tonka bean. I personally like an open-faced sandalwood fragrance in my perfume ‘arsenal’ and Santal Majuscule doesn’t qualify. Still, I enjoyed wearing Santal Majuscule and recommend it to those who want an “ornamented” sandalwood fragrance…accent on the ornaments, not the santal.

I think that the driving issue in how you will feel about Santal Majuscule will be your feelings on actual sandalwood. The people who seem less enthused by the fragrance seem to be those who really love true, real Mysore sandalwood. In the comments to the NST review, a few people didn’t like the “synthetic” or “jangly” edge to the woods used in Santal Majuscule, while others adored how it was softer, “cozy” and uncomplicated. It is indeed all those things, combined. And that’s why reviews on Fragrantica swerve from one end of the spectrum to another. On the one hand, we have comments (with which I fully agree) about the “wood alcohol scream of the sandalwood[,]” and how the “onset of loud, agressive and overall, not pleasant sandalwood ruins it for me.” On the other, there are raves about how Santal Majuscule is a “marvelous sandalwood perfume,” and how its “dryness and woodiness is simply breathtaking and the hint of powdery cacao makes this like a warm and cozy blanket.” There is similar adoring praise for the fragrance at MakeupAlley which rates it at an incredibly high 4.7 out of 5.

Personally, I found Santal Majuscule to be a massive disappointment, but I think the majority of people will love it, especially if you like sandalwood to be a mere side dish to other notes. If you enjoy the element when it’s soft and white, with just barely sweetened touches and some dryness, then you should definitely seek out Santal Majuscule. Those who prefer cozy fragrances with minimal sillage and light airiness that sits close to the skin will also probably find Santal Majuscule to be ideal. It’s a very versatile, wearable, office-appropriate, and unisex fragrance. It’s also an approachable, perfectly inoffensive fragrance that may be suitable for Lutens newbies as a way to start exploring the line, many of which are generally more nuanced, complicated, and complex. However, in my opinion, “perfectly inoffensive” doesn’t equal “fantastic.” If you’re a sandalwood fanatic, very passionate about the Mysore kind, and can also easily pick up the jangly undertones to more synthetic wood alternatives, then I don’t think you’ll be bowled over by Santal Majuscule. But try it, and who knows, maybe it will be your Goldilocks’ version of sandalwood.

Details:

Cost & Availability: Santal Majuscule is an eau de parfum that comes in a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle that retails for $140, €99 or £83.00, but it is also available at a lower price through several reputable perfume discount sites. The lowest price comes from FragranceNet which sells it for $94.19 with an extra 15% off for first-time customers or with the coupon code RESFT5. I believe they ship all over the world. It is also available from Fragrance X for $113.95, and at a few other discounters for a higher price. For regular retail price, you can find it on the Serge Lutens website for $140 or on the Serge Lutens French site for €99. U.S. Vendors: In terms of other retailers, Luckyscent, Parfum1, Beautyhabit, and Aedes all offer Santal Majuscule for $140. It should be available at Barney’s too, but I don’t see it on their website. All those sites except for Aedes, I believe, ship worldwide and many, like Luckyscent, offer samples for purchase. Outside the U.S.: In Canada, Santal Majuscule is available at The Perfume Shoppe for CAD$135. In the UK, I found it listed at Harrods, Harvey Nichols, and House of Fraser for £83.00. In France, you can find it at Premiere Avenue for a minutely lower Euro price of €96 (instead of €99), or for a little more at Sephora France at €101.50. In Russia, I found Santal Majuscule at Ry7. For the rest of Europe, I believe the Premiere Avenue site ships worldwide, but you may want to check via an email query. In Australia, Santal Majuscule is sold at Mecca Cosmetics, but I found it discounted on the Australia’s Hot Cosmetics website where the 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle seems to be on sale for AUD $135 instead of AUD $203. There are also other Australian discount sites, but I’m not familiar with them so you may want to check them out for yourself. For all other countries, you can use the Store Locator on the Lutens website. Samples: Sample vials to test it out can be purchased at Surrender to Chance (where I bought mine) and start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. Many of the sites listed above also sell samples, as does The Perfumed Court.