Passage d'Enfer

(Review of a bottle c. 2002) Passage to hell? Well, I’ve always agreed with Billy Joel on this one: I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with saints. If this is what hell is going to smell like, ship me off cap’n/God. Hell seems to be quite quiet, gentle, and a uniquely fresh and sylvan place. In sort-of typical LAP style Passage d’Enfer is pretty linear, delivering to you what they (and the pyramid) say that they are going to give you from beginning to end and top to bottom. It’s Giacobetti that makes this perfume stand out, and the ever so subtle ways in which she chooses to let the perfume shift over the course of its life; a passing smell would make one think that nothing has changed, but a deep and studied sniff will make you wonder “wait, was that note as far forward a little while ago as it is now?” Giacobetti has always been tremendous at this sort of thing, of making quiet perfumes full of immense detail and subtle characteristics that reward the patient, the sensitive, and the connoisseur types. First and foremost this is a myrrh and frankincense perfume that primarily evokes the resins of both, with slight and silky tendrils of smoke from both as well. Those of us of the Christian background/persuasion will note the smoke as being considerably less “hot” than what we were/are subjected to swinging around in a thurible while our knees ache. D’Enfer wants to focus on the citrusy, earthy, green, woody, hard and dehydrated resins more than the smoke. However, the dehydrated facet that frequently comes with resins is overshadowed here by another player. The addition of muguet to this composition is inspired. It adds a slightly watery, sweet white floral, and very fatty/unctuous quality that makes the myrrh and frankincense seem enormous - yet they are giants that never make a sound or stir despite their large size. The three of them, the muguet, the myrrh, the frankincense, sit there very quietly, and when you turn your back they shuffle themselves but when you revert your gaze the shift is so subtle you wonder if they’ve moved at all. The smokey aspects gain intensity in the “dry down” - such as it is - but they are augmented back to the mandate by animalic, gray musks that keep the “white”, the “clean”, and the “wet” theme from the muguet distinguishable. Passage d’Enfer seems so beautifully simple - maybe even deceptively or stupidly simple - that I have to marvel at it. It hadn’t been done before 1999 and I haven’t smelled anything that has pulled it off nearly as well since. Some might bemoan the lack of delineation between the myrrh and frankincense, preferring more photorealistic presentations of one or both, or the general linearity of the perfume, but, I will reiterate, I have yet to smell an incense perfume as detailed, comprehensive, and beautiful as Passage d’Enfer unless I am forgetting one, which seems unlikely. Regardless, it is one of my favorite incense perfumes ever created and I am happy to take this journey into hell with it - which seems to smell a lot like heaven.

"Passage To Hell", or as Google Translate recommends "Hellish Passage"... I live in Canada, I went to school in the U.S., forgive my French... Yet L'Artisan Parfumeur claims this fragrance was named in homage to the brand's historic headquarters located on the rue du Passage d'Enfer in Paris in the 1970s. Regardless, there is nothing hellish about this fragrance, actually quite the opposite. Passage D'Enfer is THE church fragrance to me, without a doubt. Avignon is THE church incense with Cardinal and Full Incense right behind it. But Passage does something different, somehow with its blend of incense and lily it was the first fragrance where I felt like I could truly say "This smells like a church." Not church incense, a church. Specifically a Greek Orthodox church in Center City, Philadelphia. So it goes without saying I instantly fell in love. The fragrance that I would consider Passage's cousin would be Relique D'Amour. Relique is quite a bit lighter and considerably more green. Relique is like sitting on the steps of an old church on a spring morning, Passage D'Enfer is the scent of being in an old church where the wood is soaked in years of incense and flowers. There seems to be a lot of issues for others with the performance of Passage. I thankfully do not experience any of these issues. For the first two hours I get more than decent projection and amazing sillage. Around the fifth hour its pretty much a skin scent and by eight hours it's completely gone. That's more than fine for me. If I can get five hours of "good" wear out of an absolutely BEAUTIFUL fragrance, I'm happy. While I absolutely LOVE this fragrance I would suggest sampling as I can see how it may be challenging for some. This is not a summer freshie nor a delicious gourmand. This is a fragrance that I feel most people will either love or hate. As for me I'm a lover of Passage D'Enfer. For the sake of transparency and authenticity I really want to write a complaint or two out about Passage but honestly I don't have any. I don't think it's "the best fragrance ever" but I certainly do think it's the best at replicating the smell of a church, specifically an Orthodox church. So order a sample or blind buy this fragrance. I don't care. But I do suggest you check out Passage because I love it. - 10/10 - Summer Nights, Spring, Fall. Early Winter - Location/Situation: Center City, Philadelphia, October, 9AM... Liturgy. The chanting of hymns, the rhythmic shaking of the incense censer, the smell and feel of the old wood, and the icons that look into your soul and urge you to look into theirs. You look at the ceiling where a huge icon of the Theotokos looks at you with motherly love reminding you that you never have to suffer a passage to hell because of the Gift that her body brought into the world. She urges you to climb the ladder not suffer the downward passage. - Song: Gethsemane - OM

Lately, I'm having a lot of trouble with longevity with pretty much everything I like. This time, though, it's L'Artisan, so, it's a bit expected, unfortunately. You see, L'Artisan without longevity problems would be among the very best niche brands. Passage d'Enfer is another classic representation of that. Olivia Giacobetti made a minimalistic fragrance around two notes - incense and lily. With those two leading way, and considering the name of the fragrance, I expected a dark composition, but, surprisingly, this one is everything but that. It is an incense perfume with lots of light and life. I don't get a lily note as pure lily, like in Charogne, for example, but, the way incense is modified - it's sweetish and waxy, even syrupy at times - suggests that the lily is present, although in the background. Even with that sweetish character, though, this perfume is still airy and ethereal, like a lot of other L'Artisans. Passage d'Enfer gets soapy in the drydown, with a smooth combination of faint woods, white musk and some of remaining incense, but that phase is so close to the skin you can feel it only with your nose on the wrist. This perfume has a stamp of both L'Artisan brand and Giacobetti. Its simplicity is obvious, but is perfectly mannered and quite unique - in fact, I couldn't think of a single remotely similar scent, even with all those incense-based compositions. It also has a flaw of being too ethereal - it disappears within three or, if you're lucky, four hours, and for at least half of that duration it sits very close to the skin. This is one of the cases where you pretty much cannot overapply the perfume, so, a larger dose can help with the projection, but it probably won't make it more durable. These Gates of Hell smelled a lot more like Gates of Heaven to me. A wonderful incense interpretation with a lot of character but with obvious longevity issue. 8.5/10

Passage d'Enfer takes me back to my Catholic school days. We spent every week at the school's adjoining church for mass. And ceremoniously the resident priest would burn incense, exactly of this type. Most "church incense" that is reported in fragrance reviews typically will have the redolence of sweet smelling labdanum along with frankincense and/or myrrh -- thick and resinous. Here, it's incredibly dry and aromatic with smoky cedar, near camphorous and incredibly cleansing, almost sterilizing, combined with clean, peppery frankincense and perhaps some arid sandalwood. Passage d'Enfer feels very solemn and ceremonial. A nun taking her vows; a young adult undergoing the sacrament of confirmation; a funereal passage into the next world. Somehow though, it isn't a melancholic scent, but a spiritually cleansing one. Like being inside a confessional, smelling the dry wood, unburdening from everything earthly. Not a feeling of enlightenment, but one of reprieve. And as you leave this church with your spirit absolved, you bless yourself with holy water -- still and quiet in the foyer in a basin of cold marble, tinctured with the scent of lilies that decorate the vestibule. And the lily in Passage d'Enfer really is that subtle, offering just a delicate sweetness that delivers almost a gentle nuttiness to the woods. Perhaps again, it is soapy sandalwood that I'm detecting. Passage d'Enfer is fairly masculine as far as lilies go. Very balanced and serene. Wonderful for a cedar perfume of a different nature; a bit too delicate for a lilycentric fragrance. However, austere, meditative and achingly beautiful. This is one that you can find sanctuary in.

This is not just a perfume, it's a bottle of calmness, sadness, spirituality and memories (all in a good way). I come from eastern Europe and, like some reviews already mentioned, it reminds me of Orthodox Church. However, it's not only that. It's a scent of a old wet stone. Wearing this, I imagine myself sitting at the stairs of a church or at a bench at a graveyard, looking some for poetry inspiration, but the slow and calming rain is starting to fall. And that's the essence of this scent. That's when the inspiration comes. I also developed a strong connecting between this fragrance and a loved one who recently passed away. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't smell like death or anything like that. What makes the connection are the florals. This is probably due to lilies and so many flowers present at the service. So, when I mention death, I want to say that I put this on when I want to distance myself from the world and remember that person. I wouldn't go for the EDP version as the EDT's longevity is good enough and the notes are more simple, as they should be in this case. I only dislike the name as it may be misleading. The bottle is ok, but the new red label also wants you to thinks about enfer (hell). I would just leave it plain white, like the florals. I also bought another, more "gothic" perfume recently, that sounded like it will be a stronger version of this, but it's not. It's Opus 1144 by Filippo Sorcinelli. If only the juice was put in that bottle, black with a cement/stone cap, with that name, it would be a pure ethereal perfection in a bottle that also shows that.