Cannibale

Cannibale presents as an inappropriately exquisite scent. Macabre and intriguing. Its opening evokes a mixture of white wine vinegar and ancient medical cabinet, unsettling and highly acidic. After 2-3 hours' initial dry down, Cannibale gradually settles down to a steady smokey, incensy leather, with a hint of the sweetness of rotten fruits and bouquets. Extremely poignant, dark and savoury. Imagery: He wears a seamless human suit. With impeccable manners and countenance. Yet behind those maroon rimmed eyes there are something deeply unsettling, a lethal elegance——by the time you realized, it's already too late. Although not with the best price-to-quality ratio, Cannibale is indeed a complex and unique scent with good longitivtiy and appropriately moderate sillage. Highly recommend to try it if you are into Gothic and generally dark fragrances, but the question remains, do you really need 50ml of Gothique darkness? My major problem with it is about the occasion, this is one of the "having old friend for dinner" scent. Will be reaching out when in the mood of reading Nietzsche or Hannibal, or maybe... Edit: and yes, after ruminating for a year, I caved in for a mini. What keeps you awake at night? The scintillating and decaying scent of the quintessential Cannibale. A personal observation: he turns to a warm floral lightly dipped in vinegar in the fall and winter season.

Wow. Breathtaking perfumery and I consider myself very lucky to have gotten a full bottle prior to this line's discontinuation. Supposedly, Serge himself said that *this* is him in a bottle. Fitting of a perfume that is oriental, unapologetic, daring and bold. And if L'incendiaire is Ambre Sultan in which some aspects are set aflame, this is the final evolution of that - where everything from the florals to the raw resins are set on fire. This fragrance evolves various times, but for simplicity, in the first half you have the brighter facet of this DNA, with the rose, florals, resins, vanillic amber touches - all alive and perhaps even deceptively inviting. Shortly after - perhaps this Cannibale - pours this tart/acetic liquid (ie. the vinegar) over the entire hamlet and sets it ablaze. WOW. The remainder of this fragrance are these formerly flourishing notes now trying their best to escape the flames and dense smoke (ie. the second half). Plenty of folks insist they only smell sweet florals. I cannot understand how this could manifest in such stark contrast on my skin. On my skin, for majority of this fragrance's life, I get burnt incense, charred flowers, that suggested burnt "sap" accord, and faint ambers subdued by thick smoke. If I had to pick one, the burnt "sap" is most prominent in the dry down. Piece of art to be cherished.

This is a fragrance you need to give some time to test, I would NOT blind buy this. Cannibale is one of the most complex fragrances I have smelled, and I have smelled easily a thousand fragrances... I have never been so pulled constantly between a love/hate relationship before, and Cannibale manages to capture that. (Although I am now officially in love and broke down to buy a bottle) This is Ambre Sultan without the herbal opening, shoved in ambergris that's been set on fire, with rice powder, burnt rose and vinegar sprinkled on. Sounds weird, right? It is, but it is also reminiscent of a very dark amber, more along the lines of Amber Absolute but with a big twist. The dry down, to me, is heaven- a high quality, dark vanilla with ambergris and still flickers of burnt rose. This fragrance manages to be dark and contemplative, yet sweet and powdery. A very intriguing fragrance that a Serge Lutens fan should immediately try.

An ode to vinegar...and sweat and musk, an effervescent and dank polarizing fragrance to be sure. Replicate of maybe sweat and heat and a go in a floral field on a hot and humid day. If I may say so, imo this qualifies as a sexual potion in that it's just that. It pushes off of my skin like it amplifies my own musk as it were. I'm just going to lay down and let this scent wash over me, my goodness this is exquisite, and just when I thought perfumery had hit a wall this comes along. Forget Muscs Koublai khan, this is what you're looking for.

A gorgeous sourish floral wood from Serge Lutens, this is a decadent and dark offering. The perfume is centered around a rose which is surrounded by burnt resins and flowers, incense, and plant sap. If there is a perfume that captures the aura of a femme fatale right, this is the one. Beautifully blended with moderate to strong projection and excellent longevity. The asking price is a joke but available on the grey market for a substantial discount. Very evocative. Enjoy!

One day perfumistas will realize that Serge Lutens likes to lie to them. Or, maybe not. He's been lying for the better part of two decades and most still haven't learned. Serge says "vinegar" and so you hear in the perfume review echo chamber: "vinegar," "sour," "acidic," etc. I think I would quite enjoy Serge's company; I imagine he writes his blurbs in order for him to get a later laugh at the reactions, and I'd find his mischievous and deceptive sense of humor fun to be around. The primary way we detect "sour" is when a substance's positive hydrogen ions deactivate potassium channels in our palate, but there are other substances that are not acidic/sour that can have the same biochemical effect, e.g. sodium acetate, and quinoline (aka quinine, that we find in tonic water). Our senses of smell and taste, which are almost the same sense in that you can barely have the latter without the former, are far more limited than we think, and it's quite easy to get remarkably close to sour or acidic as far as our rudimentary senses are concerned. The very tiny details that might be imperceptible to many of us make the difference. Quinoline was first extracted from coal tar, and that is still the primary extraction method today if it is not full synthesized, and quinine is an amine salt that was first isolated from the cinchona tree, which has slightly aromatic flowers, and an earthy, woody, medicinal, somewhat smokey, and pungent aroma. Ringing any bells in the echo chamber? Alright, enough of that, I think I made my point. Vinegar? Close, but no. Serge is having a laugh, and he and Sheldrake have also given us a quite novel and very pretty perfume, but not pretty in the traditional sense. The opening is "smoothly acrid" (bordering on acidic). It's attention grabbing, but quietly so, making me think of old, turned oaky wine or - cough - quinine. It dispenses very quickly, where that acrid note becomes very quiet until about halfway through the perfume's life when it disappears completely. After the initial dispensation is an incense accord that is a funky, slightly resinous, and hard-to-pin down mishmash of quiet myrrh and olibanum, and a truly deep and dark labdanum in the starring role. In a simple list: smoothly acrid, salty, florals that are very earthy, dark non-green resins, deep incense, sweet loamy earth, oily woods. The floral aspect of this is, to my nose, the expertly stitched and seamless joining of the "quinine" type material and the cistus labdanum, aka rockrose, both of which have floral aspects to them that Sheldrake seems to have been able to work together in summation. The labdanum resin is beautiful and rich; dark brown and smokey to the point of almost being black, sticky and sweet, and locking hand-in-hand with the resinous and smokey qualities of the incense in tandem. Meanwhile the acrid, salty, and medicinal aspects are light enough to keep Cannibale in the air but low enough to prevent the floral aspects of the quinine and cistus from containing much life or light. That's its best trick. Cannibale is very light on its feet, but not energetic. It has great longevity but stays close to the skin, leaving only a slight and brief sillage in the air to satisfy the creative brief of something fleeting and haunting, lifeless - the ash of flowers, woods, and resins gently blowing in the wind. But it's not dark or sinister, either. It's the smell of shadow and ash. The more I wear it the more I appreciate it, but I'm still not quite sold on a bottle. For one, it's stupidly expensive. Two, for a perfume to make me want to own it, I need to feel the desire to be a part of it and to partner with it, but Cannibale seems to only want to exist in the ether, begrudgingly present in our land of the living.

Possibly my favorite piece from the now-defunct Serge Lutens collection, the Section d'Or. This small line received a lot of criticism, mostly because of the marketing campaign, yet I believe that they were more than well-put-together perfumes. Here, we have a dark Oriental take on Rose in the old DNA of the house, with plenty of smoldering resins in the base and an eye-catching name, Cannibale. There's no Agarwood here. The entire composition is grounded by a thick, scorched, labdnaum base on top of which Sheldrake decides to use Rose, although with a typical twist. The rose smells like it was boiled in vinegar until completely consumed, only to cool off the remnants with water and use it as such. Sharp, acidic in the opening and for a good while afterward, and a watery rose pastel thereon, till completely consumed by the burning resins. The opening is the most perplexing, as it does smell sharply acidic, like vinegar, to be precise. The acidity neutralizes gradually and the burnt, smoky, caramel-like resins in the base take it from there. The rose feels like a collateral victim in this Hades. It is a unique perfume in the Lutens line-up and one that bears a lot of personality and mystique. And although the name is a bit extreme, it is a rather romantic perfume, in its dark, devourish way. IG:@memory.of.scents

I initially dismissed Cannibale fairly quickly after smelling a paper strip: a leather with castoreum and cardamom aspects, quite similar to Mona di Orio's Cuir but with a much higher price tag. However, once on skin, Cannibale comes to life in a surprising manner. There are the smoky woody aromachemical and spices vaguely resembling cardamom and clove. But at the same time, they're juxtaposed with sour vinegar, cool aldehydic powder and an almost gasoline-like sharpness. The end result is dissonant yet mind-boggling and mesmerizing. Cannibale doesn't change dramatically. As the sourness of vinegar and the aldehydic powder lose their strengths, Cannibale gradually turns into a smooth, gently spiced leather, with a tiny bit of vinegar sourness in the background. The sillage is relatively close and the longevity is around 9 hours. Although I do find some of its moments a bit too sharp for my liking, and would love to see a more refined version of it, overall Cannibale is still a very interesting combination and I've yet to come across anything similar. Because of its high price and unusual notes, blind buying would not be a good idea, but I think it definitely worths a try.

Absolutely not what i expected. Cannibal smells like a... Pope. Is it may be a political message from a famous parfumer - look, who is a real cannibal? I can smell ladan, and it dominates, also some other church incenses, may be, myrrh, also smoke, bee wax, a bit of wood, a bit of metal. But the worst thing about it is that the pure smell of church after 30-40 minutes turns into cheap aromatic sticks frm the mystical shop on the corner, and nothing else. Doesnt worth its money. May be its so sad only on my skin. I tested it in the shop and didnt buy it, cause i hardly believe it can turn into something interesting. I expected some really dark and mysterious scent, rebellious, gothic, daring, young and wasted. But it appeared to be definetely light, stricts ans predictable. Really like an orthodox priest should smell, or an old religious lady just from the church. Bad associations.

Dante, in La Vita Nuova, explores the principles of courtly love - a concept that would not at all be alien to a character that’s as deep, dark and essentially romantic as, say, the culturally literate and brilliant psychiatrist Dr Hannibal Lecter. When once confronted with the feasibility of a man’s utter obsession with a woman after only a single encounter Lecter quotes Dante in his reply: “Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for her? Find nourishment in the very sight of her? I think so. But would she see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?” And even though his answer is potentially confirmative (and he is right to expect reciprocity) not for a second does he reveal that her husband, a plotting Florentine Pazzi and bum carabinieri who’d been punching above his weight far too long, is in grave danger of losing his life - just like anyone unlucky enough to fall short of Dr Lecter’s lofty moral demands would receive capital punishment and possibly end up served on a plate anywhere between aperitif and digestif. Lecter’s dark side, surprising only if glanced at superficially, however, is informed by the thinking of Marcus Aurelius who insisted to think deeper and ask of each particular thing “what it is in and of itself; what is its nature unveiled?” And a careless moral trespass or clumsy lapse, however trivial they may appear, shall be unforgivable for a Kohlberg Level 1. So, what then could be said about the nature or the way of a parfum that permeates the air like braised meat slowly bleeding its juices from out of a moist pink centre, through gelatinised cartilage and softened sinews, over a mirepoix simmering in a rich base of spicy Chianti and floral vinegar? In essence, perhaps, that it is a celebration of the triumphant sophistication and merciless revenge of moralistic justice. Delivered by hand. Ironically at an amoral price. Delicious! Bon appetite Tata JB

I had the chance to try this in a somewhat prestigious mall. What an interesting scent! Trying not to pay attention to the name and marketing mumbo jumbo, I still couldn't help but find it thoroughly... meaty. The savoury note is reminiscent of the one in Tom Ford's Noir de Noir and Black Orchid. It feels raw, but not exactly fresh. It is supported by dried fruits gone slightly bad, as if stored in a humid place. That 'funk' is contrasted by balsamico vinegar, sharply piercing through. All in all, it gives the impression of something (that used to be) edible that you sure as hell don't want to eat. Having Bas de Soie on the other arm gave a wonderfully bizarre impression: that of formaldehyde jars, pressed flowers, stuffed animals. All fur, feathers, scales, skin, chemicals. Decay that has been slowed but not stopped. Like a poorly lit, gloomy study of a scientist from the 19th century. I don't think I would wear Cannibale for realsies (who knows, though). But I have to say, I'm impressed.

This smells like Portrait of a Lady sprayed on cardboard. It’s the same sparkle rose and incense effect that’s been done plenty of times before. Myrrh drags the scent down play-dough paths, but for the most part, it’s the same concept as POAL, Nevermore, Cuir Garamante, and about 30 Montales. The difference here is that Cannibale turns into a more yogurty tuberose after an hour or so whereas others in this genre tend to be more robust (especially POAL). Cannibale is a nice enough scent if you like this style of buzzing red neon-incense, but once more, the price point is just silly for what it is and there are far better versions of the same concept available elsewhere.

Memoirs of the human devourer. There is something unsettling about this fragrance: the combination of rotting fruit with vintage flowers. It is both gourmand and repulsive; it’s weird, intriguing, but overall not something I’d want to associate with for too long. There are hints of mild spice and incense with a large dollop of myrrh and night orchids. First spray is generic Tom Ford-esque...something, and then it fades away into a dark cold attic smell. It’s not attractive, it’s just creepy. This is a great scent for virtuous thieves and noble trespassers, or for those who want to appear like one haha. It’s a malicious scent, for the dark and brooding man. Vienna.Pink

Intensity. Starts out with a complicated rose introduction (that hooks you in) fading within 2-3 hours into a resonant and well finished incense. Then it morphs again into a complicated spice, fruit and undefined base note that overstays its welcome well into the next day. You cannot like Cannibale. But you can love it.

Very nice labdanum fragrance. As it's a Lutens, Ambre Sultan comes to mind and they are not too far off. Cannibale is about four times more expensive but is it four times better? Absolutely not.

I lived in the middle east about ten years ago and somehow an evening at the shopping mall smelled exactly like this. Bought a sample for the Hannibal vibes, sort of delivers.

It instantly reminded me of Amber Sultan. This fragrance is Amber Sultan with enhanced floral notes. I'm not sure that makes the price worth it.

Nice. Smells like tf f*cking fabulous and Chantecaille/Kalimantan. these three are siblings. Overpriced.

Notes are: Incense, Burnt Flowers, Burnt Sap. This collection is discontinued unfortunately.

If anybody has a bottle for sale (full or partial) at a decent price, let me know!

Close to "Serge Noire" but deeper, more refined and a bit sweeter!

Repentant Madalene by Caravaggio