Sarrasins

I confess, I’m not too fond of soliflores. I get bored with them quickly, and if it has to come down to that, I’d rather enjoy the raw material than a perfume built around it. However, if there is one soliflore Jasmine perfume that I am attached to, it’s Sarrasins. A soliflore made by an artist. I doubt there is a significant amount of actual Jasmine Sambac in Sarrasins (the real thing is prohibitively expensive for sustained mass production), but when you have someone like Sheldrake taking the lead while closely watched by a visionary like Lutens, I bet they can weave magic out of thin air. While I love Sarrasins, I must confess that for years I have struggled with it. I think it is beautiful, but to my nose, it never quite achieved the legendary status that has been bestowed upon it by so many critics and the fragrance community. I don’t find it leathery, challenging, spicy, complex, and surely not “purple,” although the way they hint at it by tinting the juice can be misleading at times. On my skin, Sarrasins always behaved as the utopian Jasmine Sambac scent. It has every aspect tuned at the right pitch to produce the most sublime outcome. A floral scent so beautiful, you know it can’t be accurately “true-to-life.” Therefore, why not go all the way and paint it purple? That is how it wears on my skin from start to finish, with only very subtle changes that I could easily let slip if I wasn’t paying attention. If I scrutinize it under a magnifying glass, yes, I can see how it could evoke a purple-like sensation due to its high methyl anthranilate content, which has a fruity and grape-like smell. I sense the indoles (perhaps challenging to some), I detect the green and spicy notes, and would even go so far as to convince myself that I perceive a suede-like texture deeply buried underneath. But ultimately, a perfume is meant to be worn, not dissected like that (at least for the most part), and in that regard, Sarrasins remains a rather linear soliflore experience. An exquisitely beautiful one, nevertheless. Everything is well balanced: the desirable facets are showcased in their full glory, while the auxiliaries are there but handled with great care, enough to entice, suggest, or, for many, even proclaim, yet never quite enough to define a consensus. Ultimately, Sarrasins for me represents the type of soliflore achievement that I enjoy more than the actual material. I don’t know if I can speak of any other perfume ingredient about which I feel that way. And that, with most likely relying on craftsmanship rather than the material itself. When I hear people say that you can’t render an accord that equals or surpasses the raw ingredient, I can only exclaim, Sarrasins! Also, for the reformulation conspirators out there, the current version of Sarrasins smells as glorious as ever; perhaps it performs slightly better. I don’t detect any difference regarding the scent profile between the 2006 Palais Royal label jar and the current iteration. And that is the main reason I suspect it never contained a significant amount of natural jasmine, because if it had, it would have inadvertently undergone some changes over the years. IG:@memory.of.scents

Lutens and Sheldrake love jasmine. So do I. They’ve given us some of the best jasmines of the last three decades. Sarrasins is probably their best, which, in my opinion, puts it in contention for one of the best of all time. Anyone who has lived with real jasmine knows that the best time to experience it is in the cool humidity of a spring night, when the jasmine blooms are at their peak olfactory expression, and that’s what Lutens and Sheldrake want to capture. So, picture this: It’s an evening in May, and dusk has passed with only slight touches of color on the Western horizon. It’s a beautiful evening. There is a balminess in the air as the evening dew begins to drop, the cooler temperatures and the slowly appearing moisture encourage the ground, grass, tress, and all manner of flora around you to relax and recharge after a day in the sun. The sky shines bright with a full moon, casting its white rays against some gray cumulus clouds, and gives the whole of the great dome over your head a beautiful royal purple and black sheen. There is a sultry energy in the air; you just had a wonderful evening with your lover and the mood was right for both of you to make more of the evening, and you did. Bathrobe on and feet bare, vulnerable and disarmed, you step outside for a post coital cigarette in the garden and you feel the cool wet grass and earth between your toes, and the air seems alive like the way you feel. On the breeze comes a rush of the jasmine growing a few feet from you, awakened by the moon. The smell is a beautiful mosaic of the warm glow of natural light yet the closeness and subtlety of dark, sweetly fruity yet milk powder dry, citrusy floral yet animalic and leathery, the green and slightly mentholated burning tobacco in your cigarette lets a tendril past your face, the jasmine seems to ask, “was it good for you?” A warm chill goes up your spine and down your arms and legs. Sarrasins is jasmine at its sultry evening and raunchy best. It’s the purr of a tiger, the electric yet smooth caress of skin from an amorous beauty, the smell and feel of their warm and humid breath against your cheek. At some point the evening must pass, the flowers must tighten up and prepare for the heat of the rising sun. Jasmine blooms don’t last long, maybe days at best, before they go earthy and fold in on themselves, one final push into the air before they collapse. Life goes on. The tryst is over and the cycle starts again. But man does it leave you itching for the next time.

glissading towards frosted flowerbeds in cemetery grounds. bowed head laden with black lace flecked with dewdrops. silent stillness of winter slowly turning to spring. delicate vines slithered through fretwork under moonlit skies. coyly hiding one's face behind white petals stained with wine. kisses shared on a gravestone. sarrasins opens with cold, dark jasmine with plummy undertones, almost icy in nature and draped in amethystine velvet. the fragrance feels silken and smooth like running water, yet viscous with a subtle syrupy quality to it, resulting in an accord close to ink. blackberry drupelets are pierced with teeth, bursting to release their juices onto snow-white jasmine, ravenous and eager to be plucked apart. ruffled carnations tucked into a corsage rest against a pale wrist, providing a sweet-spicy depth with hints of cloves. a tiny ray of apricot light shines onto snow. beneath it all, sultry animalia lurks beneath the petaled composition: powdered musk, oily castoreum, and civet with a pulse. for plutonian romance, graveyard rendezvous, and black dresses. i see sarrasins as the gothic younger sister of jasmin antique by rogue perfumery. where jasmin antique shines brightly with pride, sarrasins delicately broods in the shadows. the former is dominated by a bright yellow, banana-like jasmine that beams with sweetness—while the former gently glows in the dark with mauve, grapey jasmine. what unifies the two is a garden of lush indoles; yet a line remains drawn between their quarters, separating the sunhats from the baudelaire books. songs for sarrasins: winter by asylum party, rien by opera multi steel, le sommeil de trop by sombre septembre, i only think of you by the horrors, red ribbon by geneva jacuzzi, cemetery gates by the smiths.

Sarrasins is beautiful. I have never been the type to love a floral bombastic beauty. I usually prefer a complex blend, but something kept drawing me back to the sample. Sniffing the wax samples, my nose always landed over this one. Something creamy. As white, and soft as virgin skin. When I close my eyes & lose myself in the scent I picture only pale beauty. Unashamed, captivating and confident, she enjoys the feel of silken sheets & fine things. Jasmine so beautiful the smell brings to mind the actual tactile FEEL of a silken petal. A bed strewn with hundreds of them. And something darkly palpable, delicious tension you could cut with a knife. I feel like this perfume is for the bedroom, or a dark room. For a black dress, or nothing at all. It is for the white skinned beauty that lures you into delicious darkness. You follow her to your divine destruction.. And you go willingly into the night. Her night. Honestly, such a beautiful jasmine. Creamy, and darkly mysterious, almost palpably sexual, like a racing heartbeat & dilated eyes..I refuse to pick it apart further. I don't care to. If you love jasmine, this is a must try. I find it FB worthy, and I used to detest jasmine strongly. She has me. Time for a review edit, now that I've tried the liquid a couple of times, & I'm still very much in love. The growl is louder, there is a lot more "presence" here, than with the wax sample. There is a bit of a fruity aspect on the top that floats around a bit, but never lands thank goodness, its just for balance. I could see this perfume as being "moody" it may love you one moment & seem too strong another. But I love strong fragrances at night, and to be clothed in the dark, there is no better scent.

Sarrasins is one of the most beautiful scents I own, if not the most beautiful. I love jasmine, and that helps, but I don't think you have to be a jasmine lover to enjoy this one. It's a true "noir" scent, unlike mamy other scents that profess to be noir but actually aren't (see: chanel coco noir, jasmin blvgari noir, etc.) Dark, feminine, mysterious, creamy, magical and almost mystically alluring. It really is the scent of night. The indoles might throw some people off, but for me it adds to the experience- I think it adds a deeper, more rounded radiance to the scent and makes it feel a little dangerous. Really amps up the femme fatale quality. ;) But it's still sweet enough, especially in the opening, for sugar lovers like me. One of my biggest turn offs in scents is when they are too savoury and smokey, and Sarrasins remains a beautiful white flower throughout.. albeit one with an edge. Sillage and longevity are fantastic, by the way. This is the only perfume I would try to save in a house fire (after my boyfriend and cats, of course!) 10/10. I just wish this was more affordable and easier to acquire here in the US. The amount of money NY Barney's charges for this is outrageous (I see they are out of stock now on Sarrasins anyway) considering these jars sell for like 145 euros in France. Suzan Becker's ShopFrance is a good alternative to this, although still fairly expensive. PS- Anyone know what "Sarrasins" actually means? Would be great if a fluent French speaker would weigh in on the name! To summarize- this is a must try. Stunning and divine. A true "narcotic" floral. Edit - thanks to rossiniopera for the explanation on the name. Very interesting!