Santal de Mysore

Santal de Mysore is an amazing scent from the intensely curry-spice-caramel-caraway-smoke-coconut opening to the sandalwoody base. I love this scent, but I will have to side with those that say that a cuminy spice note lingers right until the end, so this never really smells that much like sandalwood to me. My take on Santal de Mysore is that this is Sheldrake-Lutens riffing on themes that sandalwood suggests to them. And a gorgeous riff it is... it makes me feel like a Maharajah. I have samples of seven supposedly pure sandalwood oils (though not Mysore of course - I doubt there has been any real Mysore on the retail market for years, though there is no shortage of fakery). They vary a bit but are quite similar - a subtle creamy off-dry blond woody scent, a bit like Atlas cedarwood with most of the cedary smell removed. Sandalwood does have an almost magical radiance to it, but I am hard pressed to find the specific note when there is much of any other smell in a mixture - it is that subtle. It has frequently amazed me how often people claim to find sandalwood in the base notes of various fragrances. I suspect that sandalwood (more usually its synthetic recreation) is indeed used in lots of perfumes that list it, but it forms more an underpinning than something you can pick out. To my mind sandalwood is like the down filling under a richly brocaded pillow cover - you can't see it directly but it is there making the pillow plump and inviting. If you want to smell like sandalwood, Eden Botanicals carries a Santalum spicatum (Australian sandalwood) oil that is very close in scent to Santalum album (Indian sandalwood, including Mysore) but is a bit less expensive. But be warned - even with the pure oil, if you dab it on your tummy or the small of your back, you won't be able to smell it at all. Well, I can't anyway. Dab the pure oil liberally on your wrist or your throat (or between your breasts if you have them or your pecs if you are the gender with breast envy). Then you can smell it, though it will still be subtle. Sandalwood lasts a very long time, which is part of why it is so subtle - it evaporates very slowly so there is never much in the air for your nose to pick up. By the way, in case you are prone to retail deceipt, if you find a cheap sandalwood oil for sale, it isn't real sandalwood, though it may smell quite similar since its synthetic recreation isn't that hard, and the very inexpensive oil from Amyris balsamifera smells pretty close too. All true sandalwood species are slow growing hemiparasitic trees that don't yield a lot of oil, so once wild stocks of sandalwood were exhausted it became very expensive. Hemiparasites are plants that derive part of their living by sending specialized parasitic roots into the tissues of other plants, but they also photosynthesize to produce some of their own energy. Mistletoe is the most familiar hemiparasite. So you can't even grow pure stands of sandalwood - you have to grow them mixed in with their host plants. How strangely wonderful that rather nasty parasites smell heavenly (sandalwood) or are traditional symbols of kissing (mistletoe).

Yowzah! Just might be the king in a very crowded field: best sandalwood scent ever? That might sound like hubris, but for my money - and you'd need a great big stack of money to get hold of this, it comes in bell jars only and a limited supply - this one of the most bewitching sandalwood compounds ever dreamed up. It's regal stuff, which gets it 'just right' on all the possible indexes of satisfaction. Unlike so many others who try to do the same trick, it's deeply, deeply savoury and spicy, yet it steers well wide and clear of its rivals' failings. It has none of the dill-pickle tang of Santal 33 or the cinnamon-overload of many other, sweeter upscale sandalwood scents. Certainly there are plenty of aromatic foodie spices in there - and, what's more, some of the more unruly ones, like cumin / caraway /fenugreek, which can all be right thugs - but they never get to rule the show or spoil things. It's sandalwood WITH spicing, not 'curry with a tinge of wood', to my nose. On the Lutens website there's mention of carrot seed, which makes sense too- there's a sneaking tinge of something vegetal, but it's just a hint. Overall Santal de Mysore finds the key to my nose and heart's desires: it's just so deeply impressive, all mellow and rich (rather than papery or raspy) all the way down. While sweet and warm and gentle it never tips into smelling of coconut or flowers, either. It conjures the properly expensive and exotic, rather than evoking cheap head-shop incense or hippies - an imaginary palace in Rajasthan, rather than a backpackers' hostel in Goa. This may be a French idea of Indian perfumery rather than anything more authentic, but my goodness it's just so so good. Also, unusually on me, it lasts and lasts - far longer and more punchily than my usual sandalwood home base, Tam Dao. Might be the styrax, fixing it firmly so that it hangs on, with a deep/dark shadow rather than a blaring burst of spice, for absolutely ages. So: this one might not be unique, there are many many things which are *near* to it, but to me it achieves the perfect balance. I am no expert on the different variants of sandalwood trees, or the precise balance of artificial-to-natural ingredients, or able to sniff out Indian from Australian sandalwood oil blends - so, to repeat a cliche: "I may not know much about (the perfumer's) art, but I know what I like" - and Santal de Mysore is what I LOVE. So : bravo! This is one to aspire to, for sure - whether you're a wannabe wearer like me, or a perfumer hoping to make scents as great as this one day. Living for the day I can find an affordable decant or partial of this.

At the firs spray of Santal de Mysore caravay and spices burst out in a bright and enveloping embrace. They are uplifting, indulgent and sparkling. There is hardly any perfume with such depth and lusciousness of the opening note. There is a sliver of herbal note as well, weaving like a silken thread through the scent. Fragrance is sweet, with a most unusual sweetness. It's not sugar, not candy or cream, - it is something else. It reminds me of mead, honeyed drink of crushed herbs and petals, spiced, served heated in order to bring out the best of aroma and punchiness of alcoholised honey. Sometimes I wonder if it is an oriental liqueur that I smell, but I have never tried anything of this type. Sandalwood comes through as if on a rising tide. Imperceptibly, gently, advancing and retreating, as if carefully feeling the skin that it is stepping on. It blends beautifully with the top note and, adds its smooth woodiness to otherwise syrupy spices, rooting them and balancing out the fragrance, so it does not "run away" into the cloying jam-like substance. This sandalwood feels plush and enveloping, richer than what most of us are used to, oriental and refined. It whispers of the untold luxuries and wonders of the Ancient Kingdom of Mysore (in Karnataka, South India), its silks, spices and aromatic woods, Dasara festival and sprawling palaces of incredible beauty and wealth. Balsamic facets of benzoin and styrax make a perfect base of the fragrance, anchoring all notes in a velvet-like carpet of marigold petals, supporting the theme of oriental opulence and magic. They also give a bit of dryness to the composition, working into the skin and dissipating the syrup gently, creating a drydown of aromatic spices and wood. Santal de Mysore is an incredibly rich and powerful fragrance, with immense projection and sillage, and so one should apply it carefully, as it can become overwhelming and all-conquering with just one extra spray. The staying power is matching, with skin scent easily lasting up to 18 hours. Some will love the powerful top, others - opulent luxury of the heart, others - the subdued richness of drydown. The fragrance's composition develops and unwinds beautifully and is never linear or boring. It is everything one could wish for from an oriental and classic scent, the spirit of which transcended centuries, if not millennia, and now has poured with exceptional care and skill into a Serge Lutens bottle.

I'm revisiting my review of this fragrance, because my first one was quite early on in my nose education. I didn't really have much of a basis of comparison to go on. Presently, I own Diptyque Tam Dao, MPG Santal Noble, Davidoff Zino, Melvita Sandalwood, and SL Santal de Mysore. Each have their own take on sandalwood, all inspired by the original essence but now of course containing synthetic. What sets SdM apart is that while sandalwood is not the loudest note, the accompaniment is delightful and doesn't drown it out. There is a spicy and smoky caraway/caramel/cumin thing going on with a creamy styrax balsam touch. One might almost call it gourmand. Projection is decent, but longevity is a bit shorter than I'd expect... maybe 5~6 hours tops. From what I've read about this, each biochemistry will bring out different notes, so it's best to sample it before buying. I got lucky and find it works well with me. I've got a small amount but will definitely have to get a decent sized bottle. Lastly, if you get the larger version of SL fragrances, they come in a glass splash bottle bell jar with glass stopper/applicator. Very nice, but alas rather exclusive. The concentration is enough where all you need to do is wet your finger and glide the fragrance wherever you want it. Frankly, I'm surprised the overall votes for SL SdM has slipped below 4. I think this is one of the better fragrances that has come out of this house, after having sampled about 8 others. 9.5/10.

Serge, I know I have been cross with you lately. The jist of my ire can be summed up quite neatly: Shut up already. Just make the perfumes. We will take it from there. So perhaps it is fitting that I am finding my love for your house renewed by this offering from 1991. The only fairy tale that comes with Santal de Mysore is the smell of the perfume itself. It opens with sandalwood, a sweetly boozy sandalwood that burns off its sugar fast, and becomes a dry, clean, carved-wooden-fan sandalwood that is marvelously elaborate while still being totally direct. Then, what is listed among the notes simply as "spices" dramatically snaps the fan closed and reveals itself to be none other than cumin, thereby creating the first edible evergreen. I've never thought of a particular wine paring to go with a perfume before, but by chance on the night I first tested Santal de Mysore my husband brought home a bottle of 2010 Middelvlei shiraz from Stellenbosch, South Africa. The wine itself was redolent of sandalwood and made the perfume come alive in ways that leave me without adequate words to describe them. Try the combination if you can and tell me what you think. Wine or no, I love Santal de Mysore and will buy more of it than just a tester. It had excellent longevity and, for being such a mighty perfume, very acceptable sillage-it won't black the eye of anyone sharing an elevator car with you.