Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan gives March a happy ending?
I took a break yesterday from my monastic routine of only one (!) fragrance per day, a bit of insanity I will explain next week. It ended up being a horrid day perfume-wise, involving a trip to Ulta with #1 Daughter and some extremely poor fragrance choices.
I tried on Elizabeth Taylor’s Passion because the woman I’d grilled in the elevator last month said she was wearing “Elizabeth Taylor’s Poison — the purple one.” So she had to be talking about Passion, right? I also tried Cinnabar (the newest version), Kouros, Ralph Lauren … whatsit, and Lancome’s Magie Noire.
How was all that? God, if I could have peeled my own skin off like a snake and left it behind, I would have. When did Cinnabar start smelling like vomit? And the Passion — you have no idea. Magie Noire smelled just averagely sour, which was a relief. You know things are rough when your tweener daughter thinks the original Youth Dew is the best thing she’s smelling.
So we did some more hot, irritable errands and wasted precious time on stupid back-to-school-stuff, and when I got home all headache-y and cross there were three new packages waiting for me. I ripped them all open and the choice was clear — Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan.
Because why not? If your fragrance day is already shot completely to hell, why not go ahead and see if you can make a migraine out of it? Because — get ready for my Dark Secret — I had never smelled Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan. Yep. I’m a Skank Poseur. I just use “MKK” as verbal shorthand for “it must be the worst, skankiest smell out there, because look how much I hated Borneo, which some folks actually wear.” Given my feelings for Borneo, I figured smelling MKK was redundant.
Anyway, where was I? Trying to trigger a migraine with Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan. But I didn’t, and I am here to shout it from the rooftops — Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan is musk, salt, armpit and leather, in that order. And it is beautiful. It took me a minute to sort out why I was enthralled: it smells like the Big Cheese when he works up a sweat. You can decide for yourself whether or not that makes me a lucky woman.
Of course, I had to stick it under the nose of #1 Daughter, who was understandably reluctant to smell me at that point. She said, “It’s kind of pretty, it tickles my nose. It smells like incense. It’s way better than anything else you put on.” Huh. She’s not a girl who likes it sweet, but still. I was a little shocked. I wonder if it reminds her of her father, or whether this is the start of a very jaded taste in fragrance.