Iris Silver Mist (1994)
by Serge Lutens Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido

There is an ossuary on the Venitian Island of San Michele, which, when you open the wooden door, is light, airy, cold and brim filled with containers of bones. It smells of this.

When I first tried this scent I hated it. It smelled of sadness, darkness, mourning and death.

Now I treasure my bell jar of Iris Silver Mist. Sometimes I wish to carry this scent with me all day, to feel the coolth of sadness and the remoteness of death. Sometimes, I use it to succour my inner strength before riding out on my daily quest dressed, perhaps, in something easier to wear.

For me, this is more than a scent. It is a meditation and I am happier and stronger for it.

15th January, 2012.

To uncork a sample of Iris Silver Mist is to be overwhelmed by billowing waves of iris in its many incarnations: carrot juice iris; doughy iris; sandalwood iris; violet iris; the variations seem endless...

But this perfume, as with other greats, refuses to let me break down its individual ingredients, and instead projects out a bold and distinct persona. This is cold white stone in perfume form: androgynous, unforgiving and mute. ISM makes no apologies for this austerity, and is all the better for it.

The blast of carrot that opens this fragrance has become legendary, and is, admittedly, like nothing else I've smelt before. Whilst this hit never fails to dazzle and bemuse in equal measure, what strikes me about ISM happens afterwards, when a sublime violet note hovers forever on my skin, veering sometimes towards a soft, creamy sandalwood, and at others towards a fresh and powdery orris.

Having been disappointed with the sweetness of Iris Poudre and the formality of 28 La Pausa, I have finally found in ISM an iris with the daring to match other favourites of mine such as Aoud Cuir d'Arabie and Absolue Pour le Soir, but with a silent grandeur all of its own.

Needless to say, I enjoyed more compliments on my first test-drive of ISM than with anything else, and now consider it to be my signature fragrance.

13rd October, 2011.

Like drinking carrot juice at a funeral - excellent

27th August, 2011.

If Iris Silver Mist required an identifying verb it would be 'Whirrrr!'. The vegetal iris root feels at first like a serrated edge in terrifying motion, throwing up the smell of wet earth as it goes. Muted reassurance can be derived from the warmth of the sandal and cedar woods and the most delicate violet lining to this moonlit silver cloud. But let's not conjure a false sense of security: this is the most chilling of irises, the one root to rule them all, a still life come to life – though intent on death. A melancholy wonder.

2nd January, 2011.

Sadness in a bottle.

29th December, 2010.

This reminds me of Guerlain’s Apres L’Ondee, but more metallic, more austere. I don’t get a carrot note here that others talk about. Unusual and very different than any other Lutens I have tried. If I were considering purchasing this, I would suggest trying Apres L’Ondee first.

18th July, 2010.