Chergui by Serge Lutens Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido, 2001

It goes on almost soapy-spicy, also very bright, but quickly turns to lovely spiced flowers, with a grassy/hay accord; soon imparting a sense of warming, verdant fields on a spring morning. This is much more close to nature than typical for this house. It is not heavy, syrupy, or fruity; rather it is fresh and slightly powdery, and as such is quite a departure for Lutens. I suppose the powdery flower is iris, but I also get a reserved suggestion of jasmine. As the tobacco unfolds, filling in the olfactory blanks below the flowers, this becomes rather stunning. Note, though, that this is not a tobacco dominant fragrance; the note is nowhere near as overt or sweet as in, say, Tobacco Vanille, to which Chergui has been compared for reasons I dont quite understand. Dry woods enter to further support the above, providing as well a subtle background sharpness. I am trying to buy into the incense note. I suppose it is not out of the question, but this has nothing to do whatsoever with, for example, CdG incenses, various of Tauers offerings, Cardinal, etc. In drydown, honey makes its presence explicit and begins to dominate, the whole now leaning toward heady and sensual, while still remaining somewhat fresh and personable--an intriguing rather than discordant effect. What a journey. I find this to be straight-up unisex, but that is how I feel about most scents. Some guys might find the first hour a bit femme.

Ok. Here's my opinion of this fragrance. It is well made, great ingredient quality, excellent projection and longevity, and for what it is, it is an artistic masterpeice. However, it's not for everyone. And it's not for me. I initially considered this fragrance offputting, but as it dried down and as I worn it more, I liked it more. Even then, to me, this fragrance is something i like. It never became anything more than a like. It is sweet, powdery, floral and reminds me a little bit of Joop and (a smoother version of) Chanel's Egoiste. This is a bit too feminine for me to wear, and it does remind some people I know of an old woman's perfume. I wear New Haarlem and Original Santal very comfortably, but this, not so much. It's not very versatile, and I don't recommend it for warmer weather. The tobacco note here is noticeable, but in the background and smooth, so don't think this is going to be rugged like Pure Havane. The hay note is very noticeable as well, and I really like it. It's not overpronounced or faint. It is just right. This is what separates Chergui from a lot of fragrances. There are also lot of floral notes, among other things, which make this smell like a candy flavor liquor. Basically, this is not your clean fresh fragrance or your manly macho fragrance. It's much more daring. Just because I don't like this a lot doesn't mean you won't like it. We all have different tastes. But it is priced very fairly, if this is a fragrance you do happen to like. This is very popular on here and for a reason. It's a very good creation. But it wont resonate in the same way with everyone. Try this if you are looking for something unique, maybe even a little bizarre, and challenging. Worth sampling, but this is not a safe blind buy.

Chergui Chergui is apparently one of the best sellers in the Lutens line. When I test it and read the list of notes, I'm a believer more or less. I can make out the notes I'm told are there. Yes, there is hay, tobacco, musk. But lord know I've nearly derailed going too far into the madness of a 'list of notes'. 'Notes' are in fact suggestions. But what lies behind a set of notes is an intent. Does the list of notes describe? (Is "oud" a botanically derived essence? Is it an aromachemical? Is the distinction important except dogmatically for the wearer and practically for the perfumer?) Or do notes try to convince, that is, lie? Somehow, despite the recognizeability of the notes, I'm not convinced by Chergui. Testing, on blotter and on skin, I say yes to the notes but no to the whole package. It doesn't suggest a Moroccan wind, as the fable goes. Notes aside, Chergui shares the sensibility of many mainstream men's fragrances of the past 10-15 years. The strategy, for want of a better word, is Creedian. Sell it as nich-y, but aim for the height of the bell curve. I don't mind the strategy. As I've mentioned about the current Guerlain line-up, the big sellers in a line should better the odds that the lower-selling oddball that I love will remain in the line. Either that, or the take-away for the perfumer is that the bell curve is a sales strategy and every perfume should should be a best seller. I try to be optomistic.

This is an incredibly dense, layered perfume with a ton of stuff happening all at once. I get fresh baked cinnamon rolls, that maple syrup immortelle, cherries, rum, a sharp boozy anise that borders on mint, white soap, and a tiny pinch of powder on top, as well as a complex base of amber, sandalwood, and patchouli that's present from the very start, giving Chergui a richness that comes from time spent finding the perfect high concentration. Given time, the tobacco leaf comes in, a papery woody smell that bridges the gap between the sweet boozy green topnotes and the dark base. That's eventually joined by a subtle boozy marzipan almond liqueur smell that fuses with the cherry to give a very quiet Loukhoum hum. By the end of the day, a nice vanilla comes in under everything. OK, it's time for some real talk. I own a bottle of Chergui and I almost never wear it because I find it frustratingly temperamental. In the wrong weather or on the wrong clothes or with more than one spray, it loses all of its complexity and just smells like a gross wet paper bag with hints of dank boozy green mold. Basically, on a good day, Chergui is one of the best perfumes in the world, but on a bad day, it's pretty awful. That being said, the good days are SO good that I have to give it a thumbs up, despite my hesitations.