SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

Today, I planned to wear Sushi Imperiale. Then I opened the perfume breadboxes and saw Oriental Lounge, and that seemed right. Then a sudden longing for Un Lys overrode everything else and I sprayed on a lavish excess. I've declared this to be a winter scent, at least today. In winter, it's not flowers so much as fragrant sugar.

Image: By Juppsche. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTW: Varied

Weekend!

Saturday night, I dressed like a girl - trumpet skirt, an actual blouse, those girly sandals, and a purse in two different patterns of jacquard fabric, one of which actually coordinated with the skirt. (From these guys. I'm pointing to fashion-related sites. Am I unwell?) Saturday afternoon garb more than Saturday night, but still. I'm supposed to be pulling on a black-washed-until-it's almost-gray cotton skirt and the nearest clean shirt. This isn't normal.

Serge Lutens Un Lys seemed like the perfect scent for that mood, but much to my surprise, it wasn't. I still enjoyed it, but in the summer the grainy almost-edible candylike note outweighs the drop-dead feminine floral. It may only be a fully feminine scent in winter, when I'm wearing soft wooly things instead of linen or silk.

Sunday, I wore Art of Shaving Sandalwood as a layering experiment, because the scent of Un Lys was still lurking, defying the intervening bubble bath. (You can't accidentally perfume your glasses, can you?) The layering failed; both are on the edge of too sweet, and they drowned each other's sharper notes, with a result that fell over that edge.

Later, I reorganized the perfume stash, identifying about eight bottles and perhaps sixty samples to give away. This is relevant because my sample of Carthusia Capri(?) chose to leak all over my hands, so that's what I wore Sunday night. It was surprisingly enjoyable; I'll be wearing it on purpose soon, to see if it was nice on its own merits or only because it was refreshingly sour against all that sweetness.

Image: By Grey Wulf. Wikimedia Commons. 

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys, and over-application without burnout

Ahhhh.

Since I was going to be alone for the daytime hours, I applied far more of this than usual - six sprays, I think. But I applied all of them well away from my nose - three on the back of my neck, three on my stomach.

This seemed to prevent the usual problem where over-application burns out the nose so that I can't smell the perfume any longer - I think that the scientific term is temporary anosmia?

So I was able to clearly smell those grainy sweet candied occasionally-momentarily-a-little-bit-skanky lilies all day.

Yum.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

Yum.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.


(Edited because I apparently thought, one confused day, that this was a Parfumerie Generale perfume.)

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys, and a photo ramble

I enjoy the process of finding a picture for a post. Ambling through (usually) Wikimedia Commons is sort of like free-associating using someone else's thoughts.

Today's fragrance was Un Lys. I skipped the lily photographs, and the lilies in art, because I've used those categories several times before. In the process of searching, I did find a nice cat named Lily, but that didn't quite seem to work.

Un Lys also makes me think of penuche - that grainy, light-brown-sugar fudge. So I looked for pictures of penuche, but I've already used the one that I found.

So I looked more generally for fudge, and found a hamster named Fudge, more or less the same color as the penuche, staring dubiously at the camera. He didn't look as if he'd enjoy being part of a perfume blog, so I passed him by.

Oh, and in between Lily and Fudge, I looked at vases, because after all, the lily is a flower. There are some startling and faintly disturbing vases out there.

And then I found this landscape of lilies and trees, and liked it, so that was that. Free association complete.

Getting back to Un Lys itself: It remains lovely, as always.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By ITA-ITU. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

I wore a mock turtleneck. And thus unintentionally learned that Un Lys is not quite as beautiful on fabric as on skin. But it's still beautiful.

(I also learned that, wow, spring is here. Turtlenecks are over.)

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

Yum.

Yep, that's all.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

Ahhhhh.....

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Nick V. Kurzenko. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Un Lys. And Rambling.

When I buy a bottle after long consideration and sampling, I always worry that something will go wrong. Maybe the bottle won't be the same as the sample. Maybe the last wearing was the last time that I'll like the fragrance. Maybe the perfume will suddenly become one of those that give me a migraine.

Nope. I wore Un Lys from my new bottle for the first time, and it was just as beautifully grainy-lily as ever.

Then, despite being thoroughly lily-scented, I went perfume sampling.

First, Hermessence Brin de Reglisse. Lavender. Medicinal. Licorice. No eagerness to please.  I think I like it.

Next, Chanel No 18, the Les Exclusifs version. I wanted to try this for the ambrette seed. Like many Chanels, it's so well blended that I can't pick the notes apart. Perhaps that's why I can't describe it. A little musky, a little vegetal, a little bitter? I need to try it again.

Next, Annick Goutal Heure Exquise. I was excited that Neiman Marcus had a tester, but my excitement was dampened by the fact that they didn't actually have a bottle in stock. I tried it anyway.

I like it, but it doesn't strike me as a big market pleaser - the top notes are somewhere between "classic" and "old lady". But it got better and better as the hours went by. Now, a good twelve hours after application, that patch of skin is a lovely blend of floral and green and a little bit of powder. For a review of this one, head over to Muse in Wooden Shoes.

And finally, I gave Tom Ford Velvet Gardenia yet another try. I've discussed this one. Repeatedly. Today the elusive beeswax is showing itself, and I'm craving it again.

Image: By Jaap van Tuyl. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Nothing, and City trip report

Saturday, we went to The City. (Yay!) Lunch at my favorite restaurant in the world, The House on Grant in San Francisco. A play that shall remain nameless, because we walked out on it at intermission. A pause in Union Square to witness a large gathering of The Brides Of March.

When the Brides started to amble off in small groups, I ambled off to Barneys. Himself retained a cafe table, a Limonata, and our bag of almond cookies from The House. (Which reminds me; did he save me any? Must search shopping bag.)

Barneys had Serge Lutens Un Lys in stock, so I gave in to the inevitable and bought it. (Woohoo!) I'm keeping it in its little Barneys bag until I do some house cleaning; I wouldn't want it to get one look at our place and flee back to France.

I sniffed a handful of other Lutenses, with the assistance of a very nice man whose name I have, of course, forgotten. He shouldn't be offended by this; have I mentioned that I used to forget the name of my home room teacher until roughly Christmas break? The highlights:

• The infamous Musc Kublai Khan (on skin) wasn't nearly as ill-mannered as I expected. Yes, the beginning was stale sweat, but as time went on it was a surprisingly mild, increasingly sweet, animalic musk.
• Borneo 1834 (on paper) has no chocolate smell for me - to my nose, it's vaguely spicy and mostly medicinal.
• Santal de Mysore (on paper) was sweet and spicy and edible, much nicer than I remembered.
• Datura Noir (on paper) was much too friendly and well-behaved. I need more weird in my Lutens.
• Oops. I liked either Chene or Cedre much, much better than I did last time I tried it. And now I can't remember which one. It had a lot of sweet, and some floral, and a gasoline-like note. Neither scent's description matches my memory - any votes for which one that sounds more like? Bad one-syllable similar names!
• The reformulated Feminite du Bois (on paper) was almost exactly like the old Feminite du Bois, except without the soul.
• L'Eau (also smelled on paper) might work as a "clean" Jo Malone.  Serge Lutens? I don't think so.

After that, a very nice lady whose name I also don't remember walked me through some of the Frederic Malle fragrances. I was impressed - after having me sniff a few things, she recommended three fragrances, two of which I put on skin and like very much:

• Le Parfum de Therese. I have, of course, heard of this one, but I'd never given it a real wearing. It's lovely. Blended to the point that my nose can't pick out the notes, but not to the point of being simplistic. Fruity, but not "Oh. Fruity." Beautiful but without drawing attention to itself. I want some.
• Angelique Sous La Pluie. Also lovely, though less indescribably so. My response was, "Cedar. Nice." and I never really expanded on that. But I love cedar and have never before had enough of it in a fragrance.

Sniffing was followed by shellfish and Wicked (which we did not walk out of) and sleep. And a brain, today, that's too fuzzy to appreciate a scent.

Photo: By Nadavspi. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys, and samples, and glamor

Today was one of those days when I looked at the perfume ranks, picked one up, and put it on, with no debating or fussing at all. Intense, flowery, grainy Un Lys was perfect.

When I put it on, I was reminded of Debby H's comment about the aesthetics of samples.

I agree that the usual sampling experience is highly unsatisfactory. Wearing a drop or two of something magnificent is lovely. Prying a plastic cap off a recalcitrant vial and then arguing with the vial until it deposits the right amount on the right spot - or until it doesn't, and you've accidentally perfumed your necklace, watchband, or floor - is not. There's no ceremony. No glamor. Perfume, I think, should have glamor.

So what's this got to do with Un Lys? Well, the lack of glamor particularly bothered me with Un Lys. It's rich and feminine and carefully crafted, and even a drop can fill the space around me. So each drop seemed to deserve respect.

So  I gave my Un Lys sample a more appropriate home, decanting it into a pretty little half-ounce dabber bottle. It does seem to make all the difference. Instead of arguing with an ill-mannered vial, I can gently tip the bottle to wet the stopper (OK, I have to turn it upside down; it's a small sample), and ceremonially dab the perfume on my pulse points.

I enjoy that. I bought the first of these bottles ("apothecary bottles" from Accessories for Fragrances) for a perfume oil, because oil particularly needs a controlled-dab approach. But I liked the bottle so much that I bought another ten or so, plus a supply of tiny disposable funnels to fill them without disaster. The empty nine (or so) bottles lurk with my perfume collection, waiting for more very special samples or decants.

Of course, only samples or decants that I already love get this special housing - the first sniff remains unglamorous. If I have high expectations for a sample, I may decant the vial into a cheap sprayer. I suppose that I could try to add a bit more ceremony to this - no glamor to speak of, but a sort of mad scientist lab-bench puttering as systematically transform my vial samples into neatly labelled inexpensive glass sprayers arrayed in rows in, well, some container.

None of this fundamentally transforms the sampling experience - and it does make it more expensive - but it's a start.

Photo of Sarah Bernhardt: Wikimedia Commons.
Photo of bottles: Mine.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys, and uncertainty

Well, this is slightly worrying. Do you remember how I said that Tubereuse Couture is better on the back of my neck - thus, effectively, at a distance - than sniffed right on my skin? Un Lys appears to be the opposite.

I sprayed it on the back of my neck, and nowhere else, before going out for the day. And after a lovely few minutes, it settled into a fairly generic "perfumey" lily. The lovely penuche-like graininess that I usually smell was entirely absent.

Worrying. Less worrying than it would be if I'd already bought a bottle, but in my mind I'd already put it in the bottle queue. It was just waiting for budgeting. What to do?

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image from "Doubts" by Henrietta Rae. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

I didn't make a considered decision to wear Un Lys today. It started when I couldn't find the dabber bottle where I'd dumped my sample. After a frantic search, I found it, sniffed the top of the bottle, found the smell oddly medicinal, and applied the smallest of smears to make sure that it's surviving all right.

The resulting cloud let me know that it's surviving just fine, and that you can't wear just a little of this perfume. That is, you can, but it won't act like just a little. Extremely light application accelerates the drydown, but once any of it's on, that's what you're wearing today. So I made the most of it and dabbed away.

I still love this stuff. I liked the accelerated drydown that results from minimal dabs - I enjoy the barely-grainy sweetness of the later phases more than the clear, high-pitched beginning. The olfactory texture, if I can call it that, reminds me of old-fashioned slightly grainy fudge, or penuche, though the scent itself has nothing to do with food. It's a very satisfying sensation.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Mackinac Fudge Shop. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys

Sometimes I long for girly perfume. Perfume that calls itself perfume, not the somehow more modern term "fragrance". Perfume that wants silk and furs, that would be comfortable at a night club, but only if the year is before 1960. Perfume.

This is, to me, one of those. And I rarely like those; it's usually more of an abstract longing than one that can be fulfilled by any real perfume. So my interest is definitely caught by Un Lys.

It's beautiful.

It starts out clear and high-pitched, all lily, ringing out and impossible to ignore. But that emphatic phase doesn't last quite as long as it takes to get tired of it - it fades while you're still enjoying it, into something more textured, a little grainier, with musk and vanilla joining the lily.

The good news and the bad news is that just a few drops last all day. So I have no need for a full bottle. So that's the bad news.

Review Roundup: Now Smell This and Basenotes and 1000 Fragrances and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Perfme-Smellin' Things again and For The Love Of Perfume and MakeupAlley and ScentSignals and Eiderdown Press and Pink Manhattan and Beauty Banter and sakecat and Fragrantica and PerfumeShrineBlog and Bois de Jasmin.

Edited to add to the review roundup.

Photo: By Iman Mirabzadeh. Wikimedia Commons. Click for information/licensing.