LouLou

Dark wet streets and glossy black lips. A slick blue raincoat and clear plastic umbrella shining under the glow of a fortune teller’s buzzing neon sign. Underneath the raincoat are torn fishnets, thigh high boots, black velvet, stacks of liquorice dark rubber bracelets and the unmistakable smell of LouLou. A funeral bouquet in a vase of cough syrup, the smoky seriousness of a gothic church and the tingling fumes of a numbing agent applied in a back alley body mod parlour, it glows like a throbbing cobalt aura and draws you in so deep it’s a trap door into a midnight underworld. A nocturnal perversion of multiple scent characteristics that bring calm and comfort by the light of day. It’s powdery and sweet, not in a wholesome and comforting baby powder way but a deeply vampy and sinister way. Medicine and cosmetics stashed behind a cloudy chipped mirror in the bare bulb bathroom of an apartment in a wicked concrete jungle where the sun never rises. It feels like you could cut lines of it on a mirror like some fictional drug in a David Lynch universe that is snorted and rubbed on gums like cocaine but distorts and transports the mind like an undiscovered hallucinogen. It certainly has the power to hurt your nostrils right out of the bottle. If the little blue locked box in Mulholland Drive had contained a bottle of LouLou I wouldn’t have been surprised. I’ve seen this described as good girl gone bad but honestly I’d go as far as to describe it as good girl back from the dead. Michelle Pfeiffer as Selena Kyle resurrected by stray cats in a back alley of Gotham city, lurching home and trashing her kitschy pink shoebox apartment with spray paint and spilt milk. Shredding her innocence and comfort and forging a new undead self out of massacred plush toys, oily black deconstructed vinyl and shattered neon tubes. Loulou is strong enough to mask the stench of the parts of her that died and has a deep blue medicinal reek like she wears it for the pain of her injuries. A balm for her grinding joints and dark plum bruises. Loulou is pain, damage and desolation doused in an anaesthetising rocket fuel concoction of sweetness, flowers and holy smoke in an attempt to forget everything that hurts. It’s the scent of someone halfway here, high, in shock, sleepwalking between worlds. a beautiful masklike face with a faraway gaze. Something terrible hiding in the indigo shadows at the back of your mind. A nightmare you forget seconds after you wake up lost in your black satin sheets. Loulou isn’t evil but she has looked it in the eyes. Insane projection and longevity, performs dangerously well. Once it’s on it’s ON. I wouldn’t even go near it with your nose for the first hour after spraying, it’s extremely, almost painfully strong at first but once it settles to just plain nuclear it holds there all night. Or day. Or both. Basically you’re on LouLou’s schedule until your next shower. Not for everyone and definitely not a safe blind buy but real legends never are. Be ready for compliments and complaints, people will love it and hate it but if you care about that then this wasn’t made for you anyway. This is the kind of scent that makes the most of perfume’s potential, it's a time and a place, a character and a story all at once, a novel in a bottle. It’s an exorcism ritual in an 80s nightclub. It's an early Madonna styled ghost haunting a new york subway car because she never made it home, popping her gum and twirling her dark glitter nails in her bleach fried split ends for all time. Its haunting, girly, narcotic, mysterious, doomed, hypnotic, sexy, nostalgic and eternal. It’s the signature scent of an 80s palm reading vampire streetwalker in the bad part of a bad city. The kind of girl that would get picked up by Patrick Bateman and eat that loser alive. A favourite for life.

Not one perfume is like Loulou. Bottle designed by Annegret Beier: "Loulou's bottle is like a magic flask. Rub it, and a spirit comes out." I would love to start with the bottle. Somehow users dislike it. I love it. It's so eccentric... It's like shaped to fit this absolute perfume masterpiece. Like the witty spirit of the Loulou shaped bottle from inside. Yes it comes out, that spirit... and then you become friends. It is someone that loves you madly. Takes you to self talking trips. Stays like the best friend... Did I spoke of bottle? There you go... Loulou takes you away. Ekhm. Perfect bottle for one of the greatest scents ever. Love the colors combination and love other products connected to Loulou. I own scarf, blouse and even sunglasses. I must be obsessed. No doubt. Not one perfume is like Loulou. When Cacharel Loulou first came out in 1987, there was a wonderful TV ad the great film actress Louise Brooks and her Lulu role in the silent 1928 Pabst film Pandora’s Box, thats what they say, it was the inspiration. Character from the film, actress I doubt. I could find many other. Like BettyBlue character. Wild. Mad. Erotic. Perfumer Jean Guichard once again sold his soul to devil with this perfume. He created legend and one of the best perfumes in the history. Is this his best composition? No. In my opinion his best is Eden. I wrote review of Eden also btw (if interested check Eden comments). The god of perfumery Jean made himself immortal with this femme fatale symphonie. Yes, this is perfume that destroys males minds, makes females envy (ones who can't wear it) and makes parents worried, when yung girls starts to wear it. Every time in all these years, since I wear it, I always get compliments. Comments. The magnetism of Loulou is beyond brain understanding. People act carnally. They act physically. It's a scent that human memorises. It hunts you forever. It's seductive. Perfume creator Jean Guichard, used a peculiar fragrant anise note. The brilliance of this move is reflected not only in the contrast of thick and sweet notes of white flowers and vanilla but also in a perfume’s spicy depth and magnetism that attracts you to nail your nose to the blotter or neck of the person wearing Loulou. The enchantment, like that of all genuinely good and quality perfumes, develops over time. It gradually evolves into one of the best floral oriental perfumes, the so-called florientals, with dominant notes of animalic jasmine, rich amber, sensual vanilla, and sparkling aldehydes. At the same time, sophisticated and luxurious, but also sensual and mysterious. Femme fatale cocktail. Not feminist. This is definitely not feminist scent. Turn around. Pay the attention. Do you smell Loulou on any feminist? I highly doubt that. Femme fatale doesn't mean libéral, feminist female. It means self accepted feminine lady with high intelligence for living and love. Lady doesn't seduce with sex. It uses erotocism. Lady doesn't seduce with Indoctrination. It uses spiritual intellect. Guys don't leave femme fatale. They leave feminists... Top notes: Bergamot, violet, plum, mace, cassis (black currant buds), tagetes (marigold), anise; Wonderful opening! Heart notes: Jasmine, tuberose, orange blossom, ylang-ylang, rose, orris, lily of the valley; Base notes: Cedar, vetiver, sandalwood, tonka, heliotrope, vanilla, benzoin, musk. It has extremely nice dry down. P. S: "To add to the creepy Lolita factor, here’s perfumer Guichard’s discussion of his use of vanilla in Loulou: “The idea of vanilla came straight into my head because we wanted something sensual that smelt of skin. In France, people say that a young girl’s skin smells of caramel. That is the smell of toffee, which is a bit vanilla-like. So we started working around the vanilla-toffee notes.” (Haarmann & Reimer)

The first words aloud after the first spray onto the back of my hand were, "Well! Someone was paying attention at perfumery school..." Jean Guichard. Same master perfumer who composed Obsession and Eden among other classics and just happens to be the head of the Givaudan perfumery school. He wasn't just paying attention in class, he became the schoolmaster. At least my nose got one thing right off the bat. Might be boring/old news for some, but that part of the story is, I think, vital in approaching this fragrance. Loulou blooms or should I say, 'fumes' like a rolling fog. Creeping like ink poured into deep water. Elemental, unnerving and utterly beguiling. It's how I imagined every 'oriental' fragrance to at least develop (but never have for me so far-not like this) and it delivers it all in so many movements or phases that it really is more akin to the cliche' of a symphony than just a hummed ditty about flowers and wood. Once the first movement started to fade, I nodded to myself: "Ah, okay, shows over folks... Pity. I thought this was really gonna be-" There's a moment where there's near silence, not even anyone in the audience coughing for a change. And then it really starts. Hours. Literally hours of glorious wave after wave of what is clearly a master at work. Whole accords then single notes, effortlessly unfolding themselves without any of the joins showing. Morphing into alien shapes and equally surreal materials, before reverting back to the vaguely familiar. Supporting notes making perfect sense and all without the usual mental hang ups about trying to identify any of it. Love it or hate it, it doesn't matter. This is one of those fragrances that doesn't just earn its place as a cult classic through sales. It delivers it easily after establishing itself as sultry and unforgiving as a tropical storm. It follows the rules only to show you how breaking them is fine because they can always be put back together. Until the next time you spray. For me, Loulou isn't a person but a place. A state of mind even. And just for once, it seems. It's a fragrance that's affordable and abundant, proving that cost/quality for the end consumer (this one at least) has very little to do with any spin about ingredients and how much it costs to make etc. I'd relish the vintage experience, but something tells me this is more than enough for my senses. It's calmed me some after so many things I got way too attached to were rendered unrecognizable or simply vanished. It proves to me that extraordinary fragrance does not have to cost anyone $30-50/ml to experience it. Narcotic and even perverse in its effect, this is one of those once a week at the (ahem) Opium den kind of trips for me (no pun intended). I could try to tell myself I can stop any time I like, but I'm already guessing that 'Loulou' is actually some kind of code for those in the know. A pet name for something with much greater reverence. Something that gives you a permanent itch as well as the warmest, soothing fingers to scratch it with.

(Review of an early 1990s Cosmair era EdP) If you love yellow florals and you’ve not smelled LouLou... what are you waiting for? Seriously. You’re missing out on an icon of the yellow floral perfume genre. Powdery aldehydes usher in one of the largest processions of fruit and yellow florals I have ever smelled. If this procession was a parade, it would bring the entire city to a halt. Sour and zesty bergamot, juicy oranges, watery and blue plums, and a waxy blackcurrant lay over mimosa and marigold florals that couldn’t be more golden yellow without the interference of genetic manipulation. The marigold is properly "musty-musky", a touch earthy and bitter, and a hair green-citrusy, while the mimosa radiates with a golden sunshine glow of the silkiest honey, sweet, and unctuously nutty like baked pecans. Oof this is decadent! Almost to the point of being a bit lewd, if I’m honest. But LouLou is not done because up next is the yellow floral of ylang-ylang. Smell this and smell languid tropicals, baked and rich bananas in the form of breads or creme pies - and cue the drooling. Helping with this is a vanillic, fatty, and creamy tuberose that is no wallflower sitting quietly in the background, but it never pushes itself forward of the ylang-ylang as far as my nose can tell. Earthy and warm balsams and resins at the base push it over the top. Creamy sandalwood, a sticky and warm and vanillic benzoin, and fatty animalic musks. My Lord. Is there anyone looking at me right now? Am I drawing ill-advised attention to myself? Never has a floral perfume made me question if I might have the psychological underpinnings for a food fetish - until I first wore LouLou, that is. Make no mistake that LouLou is floral first and foremost, but if someone wanted to state this has one foot over the line into gourmand territory I don’t know that I could make an argument against it. Also don’t think from my description that this is an ultra sweet, cloying and lumpen floral/food bomb either. It’s sweet, but naturalistically so. It’s not cloying or lumpen, but it is rich and thick whilst maintaining air and space; however, it is very likely unsuitable for the heat and humidity of summer depending on your locale - so be warned: it is big, it is strong, it is diffusive, and it lasts an age. Stunning work. Simply stunning. When I want a yellow floral for the winter that gets my juices flowing and steels me against the gray cold I reach for LouLou, and when I want something more stately and elegantly refined, I reach for my favorite Frederic Malle, Une Fleur de Cassie. These are my two yellow florals that will always hold a special place in my heart and my collection, and I cannot laud any higher praise than this.

Somehow in the course of my 30's I grew into a woman in her early 40's who only owned one perfume... Not LouLou, but Noa, which I bought after smelling it on a friend's wife. Oh, yes I had worn perfumes before in my life... many! But in my 30's everything seemed to bother my husband's delicate nose, and somehow it became that the only perfume I owned was gentle, inoffensive, Noa. Noa. which lasts about 1 hour on my skin and couldn't possibly offend anyone. Enter the pandemic and I was taken by two fancies: 1. that reading Fragrantica reviews was far better for my psyche than reading the news and 2. I desired to smell something nostalgic and bombastic. LouLou! Oh, LouLou. To think that I was afraid of smelling you at first. To read these reviews you would expect to experience bug spray or urinal cakes or, I don't know! Something horrendous. But... imagine my surprise when I recieve a bottle, and find it... so .... enchanting.... so ... confusing!? Challenging, yes. Seductive, yes. I do not have the sophisticated nose as many seem to have here, I can't always determine specific notes. It smells like your sophisticated aunt's make-up table. Like a coat room, all chrome and fur coats at a 1980's office dinner party. Like having big fluffy hair... like wearing sexy lingerie under your be-shoulderpadded power suit. Like wearing nylons that came out of a plastic egg. It's artificial, it's sweet, it's aggressive, it's also so... ... city. One morning, before dawn, when I had bravely sprayed LouLou on before work, I was at the petrol station, in the dark, filling my car... and that gasoline smell mixed with the LouLou... it blew my mind. I was transported in my imagination to a different scene, a different life. What else can I say about LouLou? I know that a few days before my period is due, and during my period, I cannot abide it. There is some sharp, harsh note which comes to the fore which I hate. Is it the perfume itself? Is it my body chemistry? Or is it my sense of smell which has altered due to my cycle? I'm not sure! What I do know is that for 3 weeks out of the month, there is no other scent I seem to prefer. I experiment with other scents, but I always go back for LouLou. It seduces you. And yet, I still find sometimes I am afraid to wear her. Like she will be too bombastic for the situation. That people will hate it. Maybe this is why I keep coming back to LouLou, because she's complicated and exciting and never, ever boring.