I want need a bell jar from Serge Lutens. Perhaps I should ask myself why, but instead of dangling some troublesome psychological question out there, I’d rather believe that one of his non-export perfumes is my destiny. Then I can call my uncle in Paris, have him or one of his daughters or his wife zip down to the Palais, scoop up the much-desired bell jar and ship it to its rightful place on my dresser.
Is Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle the one? I don’t know. When it first went on, the answer was an emphatic no. It was a car wreck, with gasoline and rubber and fumes. It was horrible, I couldn’t watch, I covered my eyes, pinched my nose and tried to ignore it, slowing down and gawking from time to time.
Halfway into finding the saw so I could take off part of my arm if soap and water didn’t work, the tuberose peaked its head up and said hi. There is still that rubbery feel to the tuberose, but a lovely little tuberose smell it is.
So… I don’t hate Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle. I’m always willing to wait for perfumes to develop, which is the biggest change from how I used to evaluate perfumes
Is it a love match? Not sure. Tuberose and roses in general aren’t the perfumes I reach for, but there is something about this one. The rubbery note keeps the tuberose from overflowing the olfactory banks and making a mess out of things, and that is what makes it different and lovely. Not lovely in that swooney kind of way. Different in that “I need to sniff my arm again one more time to see what in the world has happened.”
I think Natasha from “Rocky and Bullwinkle” would wear this perfume, and I mean that in a complimentary way.
More and more I do believe that the world needs beautiful smelling perfumes and interesting perfumes. This one may be a candidate for the bell jar I want on my dresser, but I have yet to get to Bois de Violette and Santal de Mysore decants.