More Alien Still: Alien Essence Absolue

Apparently, the folks at Mugler decided that two Alien flankers a year just wasn't enough, and this year, in addition to the flanker associated with Les Parfums de Cuir and the summer version, Aqua Chic, the brand released Alien Essence Absolue, a purportedly richer, more intense version of the original.

I'm not complaining, because Essence Absolue is the best of the Alien enterprise to date, right down to the bottle, which resembles a cybernetic pear considered by citizens of the planet Jupiter to be the last word in exotic delicacies. True to the literature, Absolue is richer, but exactly why and how, even with a side by side comparison, is hard to explain.

There's said to be myrrh, white amber, incense, and animalistic black vanilla pod. The balance is such that I'd be hard pressed to identify any of that specifically, though at times I feel I can detect what I think might be myrrh or what could be animalistic black vanilla pod. I'm a big fan of Alien Liqueur, and Liqueur was, itself, richer than the original Alien. I was skeptical, when I heard about Absolue; it seemed unlikely that the composition could be made any richer than that. I should have known better, because it's rare a Mugler fragrance seriously disappoints.

What Absolue seems to subtract from the original equation is the very thing I thought made that composition so complex and satisfying. Gone is the roasted jasmine quality, that super saturated, burred nutty thrust. When you smell the two side by side, they seem very similar, for just a short time, as though the same hologram has been projected before you. As that initial impression shifts, their differences, subtle but profound, become gradually more apparent.

The incense aspects of Absolue are minimal; still, they replicate then variate the fuzzy quality of the original's jasmine, generating a strange edged effect to the floral components of the fragrance. Overall, the heart of the thing feels the way the juice looks, golden, shot through with light. While Absolue definitely smells vanillic, it's only when you compare its dry down to the original that you see just how much more vanilla it has, and how the amber elements dominate. I can't detect anything remotely animalic in the mix, and yet this is a different kind of vanilla fragrance, slightly more savory than sweet. The spectral silhouette of original Alien remains, hovering there, but the body of the fragrance has arranged itself differently around that outline. Absolue has more than a little in common with the L'Or version of Dior J'Adore, but where that flanker sat obediently on the skin - even meekly - Absolue has kick.

I find both versions, original and Absolue, to be comparable in projection and longevity, though I've read many customer reviews saying that Absolue is equally tenacious but less of a headache, basically. I never got or get a headache from original Alien, nor am I exactly ever clear on what people who dislike it so strongly are chiefly complaining about, so I can't tell you why Absolue is considered by many of them to be a marked improvement. For me, it's simply a variation, if something so profoundly good can be called simple.

Note: This fragrance could have been far less interesting and still worth the price for the bottle alone.

Serge Lutens: La Myrrhe

Is it just me, or does this Serge Lutens non-export smell foody?

I smell the myrrh in there, but it feels as if it's cushioned in some kind of vaguely fruity, slightly chocolatey something or other.  Maybe it's the honey.  Might be it's the almonds.  Could be the "spices" listed in the notes.  For me, La Myrrhe is a totally irreverent take on the idea of a myrrh fragrance, paying very little lip service to what I tend to think an incense fragrance is supposed to be.  If you were to describe it to me, I think I might dismiss it as something I couldn't possibly be interested in.  Fruity, foody, fuzzy - sweet and savory both: on paper, it sounds like you just had to be there.

But oh this thing is a wonder.  Silly me, I thought it came out fairly recently.  It seems so modern.  I was surprised to learn it was released over fifteen years ago, in 1995, long before I'd bought my first fragrance.  I often poke fun at Serge Lutens, not just because he's been around so long he can probably take it, but because, though the house is trying new things lately, its reputation seems to have calcified around a rather tried and true (make that trite, at times) template of stewed fruits, honey, and woods.  At times, the Lutens line up can strike one as a little like that lovely society lady who, finding the hair style that "works", proceeds to work it to death, twenty years on and counting.

La Myrrhe is nothing to laugh about.  It shows how ahead of their time so many of the Lutens fragrances have been - how simultaneously adventurous and serene.  Hard to snicker at a house which produced, in the course of several years, Myrrhe, Iris Silver Mist, and Bois de Violette.  All are masterpieces, I think, whether or not you find them wearable.  La Myrrhe is soft and mysterious but emphatic, too, almost rubbery - and thoroughly androgynous to me.  It's a linear scent.  All of its components seem to circle around in the air, working together to maintain the same dreamy fuzziness from start to finish.  Something about the fragrance reminds me of another fuzzy scent, Cinnabar, which, though different in every other respect, wraps you in a sort of blanket of scent.  Like Cinnabar, which is also strangely foody, La Myrrhe feels comforting.  It isn't austere, like Iris Silver Mist, but calming.

I smell citrus, anise, amber, subtle jasmine notes with indolic undertones, spices, honey, and almond.

Instinct told me La Myrrhe might not be so widely loved, so I wasn't too surprised to see it has an average of three and a half lippies on makeupalley.  The first three reviews call it medicinal, bitter, and harsh.  I get neither bitter nor medicinal.  Harsh is hard for me to understand in something so abundantly soft.  One of the reviewers compares it to a dimestore perfume.  That might explain why I like it so much.  La Myrrhe's unusual combination of aldehydes and resins has a curious effect, and perhaps one reviewer summed it up best when saying, "much easier to enjoy than to analyze."  It lasts moderately well on me.

A Tribute to Diptyque L'Eau Trois

Diptyque L'Eau Trois is the best myrrh focused fragrance I have ever sniffed.

Somehow I managed to buy a bottle of L'Eau Trois many years ago before I was even a full fledged Scent Junkie, in fact, I still have my first bottle, with only about 15% remaining. L'Eau Trois has been around since 1975 and I probably stumbled across it in the mid-90's. I have lived in fear of it's discontinuation ever since. And now that terrible day has dawned...L'Eau Trois is discontinued.

I have a few other myrrh/resin focused fragrances; Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente, Laura Tonatto Amir, Etro Messe de Minuit, the CdG incense series and to a lesser extent L'Artisan Passage d'Enfer, but none of these are as good as L'Eau Trois. I'm serious, I really think L'Eau Trois is the holy grail of myrrh fragrances. The discontinuation of this pains me.

Myrrh seems a difficult scent to get right. As much as I love Annick Goutal fragrances, Myrrhe Ardente was a let down, it mostly smells of root beer. In my book, fragrant myrrh needs to be resinous, woody, herbaceous, incense-y and only barely sweet. Most other myrrh fragrances are actually amber scents with too much vanilla frosting. L'Eau Trois is so perfect, it's as if I wrote a letter to Diptyque asking them to create an exquisitely dry (dry as a bone) scent, with loads of herbs, woods, spice, incense and barely a drop of something sweet just to make it a perfume one can wear in public.

Rustic is a word that comes to mind when I smell L'Eau Trois. It's a rustic, natural, earthy, sappy smell. I think of tree sap - gooey and golden. Thyme and rosemary are prominent notes - which I adore - it's not very often you smell these herbs in perfume. And there's also a coniferous (pine) quality to L'Eau Trois. The scent of L'Eau Trois is so balancing, centering and idyllic it seems the perfect antidote to a stressed individual. Diptyque suggest that L'Eau Trois is meant to capture Northern Greece. I've never been to Northern Greece, but if it smells like this, I would love to visit and stay for awhile. Having recently moved to the southwestern United States, I find a striking similarity with the smells here in the high desert. Perhaps this is why I've been craving L'Eau Trois and brooding over it's discontinuation.

I think of L'Eau Trois as an uncompromising perfume renegade. She doesn't smell of flowers or vanilla or citrus or fruit like the vast majority of fragrances. In my mind, L'Eau Trois is Amelia Earhart, a pioneer who has left us before her time.

The nose behind this fragrance is Serge Kalouguine. Notes are: rosemary, myrrh, myrtle, oregano, cistus labdanum, pine, laurel, and thyme.

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: A Review

Am I the only person who finds La Myrrhe reminiscent of Chanel No. 5? For me, La Myrrhe smells like a Lutens/Sheldrake homage to No. 5, with their characteristic twists and bold signatures, of course.

Aside from the similarity with No. 5, La Myrrhe is an enigma. From the start, it’s sheer and bright, it leans toward bitter, and, to be blunt, medicinal. But then it’s also resinous (the myrrh) and there’s a hesperedic layer throughout the fragrance and an almost (very feint) marzipan paste.

Is La Myrrhe difficult to describe? Yes. Is it what I expected it to smell like? Not at all. When I think of myrrh itself, I imagine Diptyque’s L'Eau Trois, which is my favorite myrrh scent. I also have Annick Goutal’s Myrrh Ardente, which didn’t work out for me, it smells nice, like woody rootbeer, but not as I’d hoped. La Myrrhe doesn’t smell like myrrh essential oil, as you might expect, given it’s name. It is most definitely the aldehydes that remind me so much of Chanel No. 5. La Myrrhe starts off with a great soapy aldehydic pop which lasts for the first hour.

Like several Serge Lutens fragrances, La Myrrhe is not to be evaluated upon first sniff or even the first hour. After the aldehydes burn off, the fragrance changes. It loses it’s soapy aldehydic pop and instead turns sweetly spicy, like spiced Coca Cola, with anise and woods. This combination is generally what myrrh smells like – it isn’t a mistake that there’s a Coca-Cola/root beer vibe.

La Myrrhe has such stark duality that I imagine there are many who would either love the opening and dislike the dry down or vice verse. I happen to like both, the aldehydic start and the sweetly spicy dry down, but overall I like this fragrance, I don’t love it.

La Myrrhe clearly conjures a vision of a certain type of woman for me. She’s the offspring of proper wealthy ladies who have worn Chanel for decades but this lady prefers not to flaunt her wealth. Instead she exudes a bohemian charm, with chunky jewelry, loose wavy hair and maybe even a tattoo. Ignoring her politics, personality and history but based solely on appearance I imagine Angelina Jolie wearing La Myrrhe. It needs to be mentioned that La Myrrhe makes an excellent masculine as well.

Minimal sillage but long lasting overall.

Notes: Mandarin, bitter almond, sandalwood, myrrh, honey, jasmin, amber, musc

PS: I just came across the shoes and loved them. Made by L.A.M.B, called Tegan Pumps, available at Nordstrom. Since I couldn’t find a good photo of a La Myrrhe bell jar and I did not want to assault you with yet another photo of the overexposed Jolie I went with the shoe image. And, I do image La Myrrhe wearing nicely with these shoes.