The Fleurs de Sel's initial floral-green-salty sharpness is immediately an olfactory flashback (a deja vu) conjuring me more than vaguely the classic and unfortunately "set apart" Nino Cerruti By Nino Cerruti (an unmatched classic of perfumery full of class, melancholic floral-ambery warmth and romanticism). I'm in a while smitten by a game of intense floral sharpness (probably geranium, orris root and lily of the valley unfold their rooty-lymphatic intensity) and warm ambery muskiness with a touch of swirling ghostly suede. I suppose that probably a well calibrated fir resins implementation has been afforded providing that typical intense dark-green mossiness around. I catch the aromatic patterns (a starring rosemary and thyme in particular) and a stout rootiness provided by patchouli (may be fern) and vetiver. The aroma on its complex is really musky, floral, earthy, astringent, vaguely smokey and with a touch of saltiness (counteracting the floral mildness) provided by the encounter of rosemary, leather, vetiver and (possibly) subtle ozonic molecules. Finally the leather emerges but is always subtle, mossy and floral-salty, never disconnected by a reigning grassy-floral (salty) vegetal aura. Absolutely classy and poetic I recommend this Miller Harris languid juice for a spring time romantic night date.
23rd January, 2015 (last edited: 24th January, 2015)
I'm getting salt, herbs and an earthy sort of vetiver. It's sorta bitter (narcissus), no sweetness. Imagine you've just been to the beach on a sunny day. It doesn't smell like that. OK, maybe a rock pool under the pier. Sillage is kinda weak, but it lasts ok. So yeah, go ahead and try it if you like oddball scents but don't wanna stink out the room. 7 hours from 7 sprays.
A bit artificial and delivering nowadays' niche signature "mono-dimensionality", in other words lacking a bit in depth, charme and substance, but a remarkable a partially well executed idea. Basically, Fleurs de Sel is a sort of subtle, icy, sharp and sheer leather scent with a bold salt note, some pepper, dry "culinary" herbs and light floral notes – those also, delicate and cold, all wrapped up in a synthetic aura of Iso E and eugenol (the pungent cloves note). I said the idea is remarkable because the concept of an icy, grey-azure scent is not that common, and the peculiar personality halfway austere and shady, but also cozy and quiet like "before the storm", is unusual and fascinating, and somehow "works". Sadly the notes themselves are materially barely decent, all a bit pale and dull (not in a creative way, I fear: just more because of quality limits), and the light leather accord is honestly fairly depressing – as it basically smells like something any novice can build with a $20 purchase from Perfumer's Apprentice; but apart all of that, the concept itself is so nice it almost "saves" the scent from smelling cheap. Worth a try, not a purchase unless it's really a good deal on the price.
Well, this is another triumph for Lynn Harris... A scent which evokes the outdoors (specifically a little town in Brittany called "Batz sur Mer" where Lynn Harris used to spend her childhood holidays). The name "Fleurs du Sel" relates to the process of collecting the top grains of salt from the salt making process. So the idea is to evoke a setting where people are sitting by the sea, in the midst of nature, making salt.
What I get from this is a great mix between salt, earth and dry herbs. It's a very dry, aromatic fragrance. Herbs like sage, rosemary, thyme all dry and sprinkled with salt. There is also a floral backup to "soften" the whole composition. Even though this has salt and herbs, for some reason I find it very refreshing. It's incredibly well blended and softened by notes such as rose, iris and vetiver. It's not as harsh as you would think, and it has a great drydown of vetiver and sweet leather. A really great fragrance. It's not all about the salt (and to be honest I've tried much drier/saltier fragrances than this and this is quite soft and subtle in comparison).
The arrestingly dry, dusty green opening of Fleurs de Sel smells to me like a variation on the aggressive vetiver theme of fragrances like Vetiver Extraordinaire or Etro Vetiver, but soon turns toward the floral arrangement promised on the label. The sharp, rasping opening accord continues to cut like a bone knife, even if it’s concealed in a bouquet of wildflowers.
There is a beautiful, if somewhat forbidding, austerity about this stage in Fleurs de Sel’s development that keeps me mesmerized even as I cringe at its starkness. Like Yatagan, though by very different means, Fleurs de Sel’s first hour paints the olfactory equivalent of some parched, desolate landscape. In the case of Yatagan it’s an arid pine forest, while Fleurs de Sel conjures up barren, windswept dunes, sparsely sprinkled with seaside grasses and a smattering of stalwart scrub.
Unfortunately, this phase does not endure more than an hour, by which time the floral elements take over. The result is a more conventional sweet green floral scent, albeit one distinguished by a crisp, dry woody-aromatic foundation and a mysterious wisp of smoke. The projection is limited and the sillage quite mild, so that Fleurs de Sel functions mostly as a skin scent. Its lasting power is more than reasonable for so light a scent, and I’ve gotten a solid four or five hours’ wear out of it.
Two details of Fleurs de Sel’s composition stand out to me. One is the way the normally volatile and relatively fleeting aromatic notes are retained well into the development, and the other is the success with which this fragrance manages to evoke the seaside with nary an aquatic note or a drop of suntan lotion. While the drydown lacks the bracing novelty of the opening and heart accords, the scent is always beautiful. Hats off to Lynn Harris for composing "beach" scent that avoids all the hackneyed gestures that mar this over-exploited genre!