Tuesday, January 19, 2010

SOTD: Serge Lutens Daim Blond


I tried another overapplication experiment with this, to see if it changed at all. It didn't. And that's fine - I love Daim Blond just the way it is.

But I see that I've never talked about it in detail. That's probably because it's hard to describe. It's not hard to smell or to love - at least for me, it's a love at first sniff, sink in, comfort scent. But it's a scent that doesn't make sense. Leather and fruit. Pale suede and apricot. It's not an apricot danish thrown at a lady's suede hat, or an apricot hand pie in a suede crust (eew), or anything like that. The two are merged. It's... it's... OK, you see the problem? I can't come up with a single fantastical object that ought to smell like this.

Now, the notes don't say apricots. The notes are hawthorn and cardamom on top, iris and apricot stone and pallida in the middle, and musk, heliotrope, and leather at the base. I'm guessing that the fruit that I'm getting is really the heliotrope - don't they call it "cherry pie"?

The top notes are my favorite. There's an odd scent that's both fresh, or maybe I just mean volatile, and rich - maybe it's the hawthorn. And plenty of fruit, and plenty of suede. But even though it announces "suede" loud and clear, there's nothing animalic here. No, I can't explain that. I don't get the cardamom at all, but I'm guessing that it, plus the bitterness of the apricot stone, explains why the whole mix doesn't collapse into an oversweet mess.

As time goes on, there's a good deal less fruit, and the leather is quieter. The musk shows itself, and there's a very fine, silky powder that I'd guess is the pallida. Even when I officially hated powder and musk, and disliked iris, I loved Daim Blond.  Now all three are growing on me, and someday I may prefer this phase to the fruity top notes.

At the end, the last traces are a faintly sweet powder. That's nice, too; I may overapply even more next time to get a stronger, clearer view of the base.


Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons.


  1. This is one of the scents in relation to which I feel a complete pariah and philistine, for this is just horrid on my skin - acrid and sweaty suede loafers.

    Loved this notion though:

    "an apricot danish thrown at a lady's suede hat"

    I know someone who got married in this scent - what is it about my skin that adulterates it so... : - (

    A Freak of Epidermis

  2. A Theoretical Consolation: If you get all that Excessive Character out of some scents, then presumably you get Extra Character out of the lighter scents that are excessively well-behaved on everybody else's skin. That is, you can't get some good stuff that other people can, but you can get some good stuff that nobody else can?

  3. I'm with FlitterSniffer on this one-- "horrid" just about sums it up. I decided this is what arsenic *ought* to smell like-- you know, derived from apricot pits? Bitter leather + cloying sweet-- I don't know what the fruity part is.

    @ChickenFreak Wait...what?

  4. "@ChickenFreak Wait...what?"

    Er. Er. OK, I can't really explain my convoluted thought there. :)

  5. I feel reassured that LCN agrees with me on this one, though I think we are a small minority. : - ) Your theory that I may turn out to have rather delicate, overly sensitive skin has been suggested by a couple of other perfumistas with whom I have had some satisfying swaps. For I am terrified by the likes of Narcisse Noir, which is sensory overload of the darkest and most repellent kind, but can appreciate nuance in something like Perfect Veil - or could do before this recent problem of things going "splat" on my skin, which I am hoping is only temporary.

  6. Yep - it could be nice to have skin that amplifies the subtleties. I think that's what I mean.

    But that would make the splatness extra annoying. Have you tried moisturizing experiments - extra moist skin, extra dry skin - to see if it has an effect on the phenomenon?