Serge Noire by Serge Lutens

Incense is the first letter of the perfume alphabet, its most archaic expression and its strictest sense: perfume, from the Latin verb fumare, “smoke”, with per, “through”. It is the smoke of the precious aromatic resin that seals the alliance of men and gods on the altar. The most incorruptible substance, exempt from the fate of all vegetal and animal flesh; the purest and most combustible, which consumes itself without leaving any remains, other than its fragrant wreaths. Immateriality itself.

It is to this Alpha and Omega of perfume that Serge Lutens has dedicated Serge Noire, the fragrance that bears his name, the one that best expresses him – it was, apparently, several years in the making. As though all the flowers and spices of the Orient had to be explored before reaching incense, the sacred ingredient the Ancient Greeks believed was gathered in the country of Saba at the hottest time of the year.

If Serge Lutens, in the text that accompanies the launch of Serge Noire, speaks of Japanese temples or of haute couture salons (see the interview he gave to The Scented Salamander), it is not unlikely that he also thought of the mythical dimension of incense: he also mentions the Phenix, the legendary and immortal bird who builds his nest of incense and myrrh, and who regenerates by flying into the sun. After all, incense is part of the fragrant heritage of so many cultures that it can be dreamed in many guises.

You’d expect, when smelling what Lutens calls his “gray oriental”, a charcoal drawing; black dust blowing grey clouds on white paper. You imagine an austere scent: black fabric on white skin, the essence of haute couture.

But have Serge Lutens and Chris Sheldrake, who founded the modern school of orientals, ever given in to the fleshless and grim charms of minimalism?

The first application, a dab in the Salons du Palais-Royal – in the combined effluvia of all the other fragrances – yields the balsamic, softly smoky cinnamon-vanilla note of benzoin.
The second application, sprayed at home from the sample, is quite different: what leaps out is the clove, along with another peppery note (Helg, in her Perfume Shrine review, says it’s elemi, a spicy, peppery and citrusy resin).The salubrious and slightly leathery incense – much softer than the type that is burned in churches – then weaves its curls around a vaguely powdery floral note. Carnation? As usual, the Palais-Royal won’t tell. But it is oddly reminiscent of the original Coty L'Origan...

When sprayed, however, Serge Noire doesn’t prominently smell of benzoin at the outset – its honeyed accents only come out well into the development.

Serge Noire doesn’t play on sharp contrasts: it is rather a sizzling succession of resins, a superposition of grey veils. Unlike Lutens’ first essay on incense, Encens et Lavande, the composition doesn’t stress the coldness of the note. Despite its age-old, meditative rigour, Serge Noire smiles as serenely as the archaic Greek Korê.

Serge Noire will be launched outside of France in September 2008.

Image: Photograph of smoke, from http://www.lumendipity.com/