Serge Noire

Lutens' scents are generally known for amber, cumin, and other arabist elements which remain largely unsurpassed by other houses. Here, however, these more familiar scents are displaced by the native plants of Indonesia's Spice Islands, and the result is totally different, an apotheosis of cold and heat. A stinging, bloodied, destructive thing which could lay waste to a town, but at the same time utterly beautiful. Serge Noire is, just like the other Mohairs, a monochromatic, somewhat solemn scent, composed primarily of ash and cloves, ground into a granular texture and left to be forgotten in the darkest corner of an ancient church catacomb. Its opening is particularly arresting, with softly animalic flint-like elements creating a sense not only of the smell of cloves, but of someone desperately trying to start a fire somewhere as the 'ancient ones' close in from the dark. I do find it menacing... it smells somehow like it would burn or is otherwise dangerous in a very unsexy way. It might simply be its unrelenting nature but there's something very unsympathetic and even almost cruel in the way Serge Noire smells... it smells like an emotionless observer of immense suffering, with no desire to intervene or lend help. As it sits on the skin it does rapidly "settle in"... rather than developing as a traditional perfume, it behaves almost like a musk and starts to intermingle with the skin until it's hard to distinguish where the perfume ends and the smell of frightened, panicked sweat begins. The blend of coldness and hot spices does make it feverish, it somehow smells the way that having caught the flu might physically feel - perpetually cold and seeking warmth but, paradoxically, already incredibly hot. Lying just beneath this spicy-cold mid is a faint but nevertheless highly disturbing animalic. In brief fits and starts I detect gentle wafts of something almost urinous or blood-like, the metallic scent of a smashed tooth or some other gore. I don't experience an obvious sweetness in Serge Noire's drydown, but it does lose its menthol knives and caustic might to give rise to a somewhat gentler, but still cool-spicy finish. We must assume, I think, that the slow development of this scent (which is said to have taken many years) likely results from the fact that clove bud oil, its seeming central element, is perhaps restricted in perfumery. As such, I believe this clove accord of Serge Noire has been built at least in part by hand, i.e. by careful combining of non-clove elements to pad out and enlarge the scent of the clove itself, or perhaps by use of some arcane clove extraction. I suspect it was there, in that painstaking process of manual assembly, that Lutens and Sheldrake discovered the opportunity to spook as much as delight the wearer via some synthetics (or naturals) which remain unknown. That something so diabolical-smelling could be IFRA compliant seems a wonder in itself. Throughout its entire lifetime on the skin it smells incredibly dramatic, like a hyper-potent distillation of some exotic plant that has been bleached of all its life to give a stripped down, "industrialised" essence. I find it incredibly evocative and generally horrifying - think Silent Hill in a bottle. It does lean masculine by conventional standards and lasts a respectable 6 hours on me. It's one of Serge's most challenging scents of all (not easy with the stiff competition) and is very likely to offend others who can't see the wonder or art in perfumery (or who simply can't stand animalic cloves). For my part, I think this little clovey thing is a true masterpiece.

Serge Noire was launched in 2008 and its name actually has a kind of double meaning. That's because the name of Serge is also the name of a fabric (In Portuguese, Sarja; in English, Twill). So, it seems that Serge took advantage of this duality, when naming this fragrance, but also to show a darker side of his personality, a kind of “Dark Serge”. In terms of concept, he says: "My first name is the name of a fabric. It strikes the right note for this fragrance. In a similar vein, nothing can capture this scent’s spirit better than subtle "snapshots" from the past, like a forgotten glove lying on an antique chair. Incense stirred by the smell of burnt wood". Serge Noire has notes of patchouli, cinnamon, amber, ebony wood, cloves, incense, ash, resins, and mix of spices. Some say that it took more than 10 years to be ready. On the skin, Serge Noire is one of the most powerful fragrances of the House, no doubt. And because of that, it is also of the type "love it or hate it". During the first hour, the smell scares! There is a vivid nuance of clove, with the medicinal aspect (reminding the medicine used by dentists) and a sour smell reminiscent of sweaty armpits, especially on the areas where the perfume was sprayed. Maybe that part has something to do with the importance of twill in the late 19th century when it was widely used in the manufacture of military clothing. After this stage, a dark phase begins to emerge. The incense does not arise smoky, but pure, as if ready to be put on the coals. Still, a strong smell of spice mixes with incense, making me remember of cumin. And the wood seems dense, but not dry. Then, a certain contradiction between the spicy and creamy begins to appear. The cinnamon starts to become more present and the incense starts to burn and leave its fragrant smoke. At this stage of evolution, Serge Noire doesn't remember, in any sense, that fragrance of hours ago. Serge Noire evolves slowly and it is a smoky, spicy, strong, uncomfortable, and quite masculine perfume, even though it's unisex. But don't think that the simple fact that you like spicy or smoky fragrances will be enough to appreciate this one. Not everyone can handle this more obscure facet of Serge. I see darkness, ashes and pain fading out through the air, as the smoke of fine incense, which burns slowly, perfuming, and pushing away evil spirits.

What an interesting fragrance. It evolves and changes, from a dirty blob to a magnificent ashy phoenix. This scent is anything but linear. At first spray, a dirty spice bomb: a blast of clove, cumin, cinnamon, combined together on a sweaty base. Quite difficult to handle during the first 5 mins. Then this spicy sweatiness suddenly morphs into a dusty scent, very much what Serge states as "a forgotten glove on a polished armchair". Very evocative in its strangeness. This doesn't last long however, and the true heart of SN starts to emerge, stronger and stronger: camphorous incense, then more and more incense, burning away the dampness of the spices, turning them warm and dry. And then comes the glorious final: mystical clove and cinnamon wrapped in clouds of frankincense. Mesmerizing. The cumin spiciness still stands in the background, dry and behaved, giving the overall fragrance an edge that makes it definitely unique. In its dying phase, a sweet and soothing clove lingers for a while. As for perfomance and usability: moderate sillage, but its barely tamed and can show up when least expected. I experienced a good longevity but I got to say, one of the few fragrances I prefer on clothes than on skin: it will skip the pungent start and fast forward to the dusty smokey clove stage, making you feel like an elegant vampire wearing rich dark velvet, even though you are just a poor mortal wearing cotton: Dark, refined, seductive without trying to seduce. Also on clothes this one definitely lasts for DAYS, as if it was made for fabric. I don't usually rely much on day/night or seasons for wearability, yet this one is absolutely a creature of the chilly nights. Perfectly unisex, alluring on a woman, compelling on a man. There is something deeply esoteric about this fragrance, and it has an intimidating but majestic presence that reminded me of a religious totem or a sacred statue. It has almost a personnality on its own, it feels alive. One word: transcendence.

i've always found it shocking that this is such a divisive scent. it's a bit peculiar, sure, but its composition is quite minimalist and it's really not a room filler. It's opening, yes, is quite spicy. The top smells strongly of clove, cinnamon and maybe a hint of coriander, and as with many spicy fragrances, this phase lasts for longer than a top composed of citrus or aldehydes or more volatile florals, so you do have to like the smell of clove, but I certainly wouldn't call it a clove bomb. incense is present throughout, but I have trouble discerning the heart from the base. The core of the scent is cold and almost clay-like, which must be from the combination of ebony wood and whatever mix of resins or amber notes that provide it with its foundation. The majority of its wear is characterized by this soft, but somewhat moist and claylike woody drydown that's been informed by its spicy opening. I find it to be very attractive, and after buying a full bottle I realized I dated somebody that wore it (very weird when you have those lightbulb moments), but in no way to I find it to be overly demanding or even specific to a season or time of day (though by vibe i picked winter and night, i wear it year round when I want something with a cold, spicy character). I haven't really smelled anything quite like it, but I would place it in the same zone as Comme des Garçons Black EdT. Truly a joy to wear for me, but it's definitely exemplary of the fact that people interpret smells differently and this may read as interesting but wearable to you or you may feel like the hamburglar when you wear it, and it's probably best to try a sample first.

I am testing this from a decanted sample provided by nexangelus (THANK YOU, my lovely!). Serge Noire seems to inspire outright horror & revulsion in most of the reviewers below so therefore - naturally - I had to try it. I sprayed once - cautiously - to my inner wrist, taking care not to get any on clothing, bedding, innocent passers-by or my cats. The only way to describe the initial momentous blast of cloves, cinnamon and spices is "a full frontal assault". It's almost a physical punch to the nose. I don't pick up on the cumin other reviewers have remarked on, and have never experienced this note as BO anyway. But not since Mitsouko have I had such a violent antipathetic reaction to a perfume - clearly the only sane option was to SCRUB IT OFF - IMMEDIATELY. I caved with Mitsouko after 30 minutes and scrubbed... and scrubbed... AND SCRUBBED! Why do perfumes I loathe have such incredible staying power??? 20 minutes in, I took another cautious sniff. Hmmm. The overwhelming cloves and spices had subsided to manageable levels, so I sprayed again, two blasts this time to both inner wrists. 45 minutes in and - having sprayed neck & decolletage as well now - I am left with a stunningly beautiful incense, amber and wood perfume. It's creamy and almost sweet. Sillage is moderate. I rarely comment on longevity as my skin soaks up perfumes and I don't think it's a fair comparison. I LOVE this. Caveat: I own and love a number of Bertrand Duchaufour's creations (and Mugler's Womanity); so please take this into account.