Douce Amère (2000)
by Serge Lutens Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido

Bittersweet, indeed, but this is one bitter that is not difficult to endure.

Douce Amere seems to constantly go back and forth between the cool, almost green tinged anise and a powdered chocolate, semi gourmand. Neither side is ever out of balance, and it keeps the fragrance interesting all the way through the drydown.
This is smooth and creamy, first from the florals, then from musk. A dusty artemisia (it really does smell of the plant dust you get on your hands handling artemisia) lends it tinge to the anise, and a faint cinnamon sprinkle goes on top of the chocolate powder. All this over a soft wood. Creamy, soft and close wearing towards the end, Douce Amere is a wonderful, somewhat lighter addition to the early lineup.

This one has the feel of some of the Perfumerie Generale semi-gourmand fragrances, and I feel it could easily fall in that line. Although I guess Douce Amere came first!

19th December, 2011.

This fresh-aromatic oriental  fragrance is a tribute to the note of absinthe that here is combined with many elements in order to smell talky, almost incensey, minty and with a sort of taste of milky coconut and soft musk that rise high your senses in the sky. More than a " social" fragrance this is an evocative smell of left over times. Sophistication and refinement are faint but the pleasure is high. The scent  plays the game of contrasts producing  a sweet cool-aromatic smell with toned down (or bitter, at least initially) woodsy undertones. The general sweetness is powdery and clean,  endly dry and musky. The musk sets a cloudy soft bed on which  are placed bitter-sweet notes as absinthe, with its herbal  natural bitterness, sweet anise, dark  chocolate and herbs, vanilla and opaque cedar. The beginning is aromatic, bitter and almost medicinal in its wormwood's  performance. The last is the "amare" side of the initial licorice effect produced by the juxtapposition of boozy absinthe and moderately sweet anise. Nothing of this medicinal harshness remains at the end of the trip when just a nearly dry and powdery bluette talk keeps on whirling under your nose. The florals are delicate, a bit too artificial and unable to imprint any kind of botanic angular effect. The sweetness is more pushed up by an honeyed cinnamon than by flowers in the body of the fragrance but is refrained by a cedary musk that is soft, selfish and boise'. A touch of vanilla arouses a bit of milky effect in the final powder that is mostly featured  by the effect of a chord of  licorice, musk, milk, aromatic marigold and cinnamon. The silky and flat trail of flowers, in absence of angular, botanic or herbal roughness, doesn't break the uninterrupted powderiness of the smell. The music is steady in its tones. A note of sandalwood seems to set the right dosage of texture and stableness. An arcane whiff of smoke closes the round of this cloudy and comforting scent of your childwood.

15th November, 2011.

I don't really understand Douce Amere. I like it but I don't get thrilled to wear it. Perhaps it is the dust note, perhaps it's its ambiguity. To me it's a beautiful winter scent, but for men only. On a woman it doesn't evolve. Anyway thumb up. At least for the idea.

15th November, 2011.

I only have a small sample of Douce Amere, but that is enough for me to say that this is a scent I would swim oceans to procure.

It is highly addictive and totally delicious - if only it weren't so expensive!

I love the combination of the anise and wormwood, softened by the flowers and chocolate notes - right up my street. Bittter-sweet is where it's at.

This and Le Parfum De Therese are the nearest I have come to my Holy Grail and I have sniffed thousands of scents in that quest, believe me.

11th March, 2011.

Tried last week (April 2010) at Selfridges, London.
It's a happy fragrance, cute and edible, but it hung around forever on the skin and made me think of Selfridge's baklawa counter. I like the fact that it's not a serious scent initially, but on me it didn't develop beyond the smell of (top quality) syrupy pastry.

12nd April, 2010.

Bittersweet indeed. Bitter wormwood (absinthe); sweet anise, cinnamon, tiaré flower, jasmine, lily, and vanilla; bittersweet chocolate note; then inedible powdery musk and woody cedar. What lingers on me is the opening of wormwood and anise, hauntingly filtered through the inedible base notes. I sprayed a tiny bit on my hand early one afternoon, and it remained in a subtle whisper of this four-note chord when I woke up the following morning. It is quiet, but not shy; soft, but not yielding. And now, it is being discontinued. Get it while you still can.

14th February, 2010.