De profundis Serge Lutens 2011

In the deepest, darkest winter, when the days are still gray and harsh and the ground is frozen, there comes, in some years, that very special moment when you can suddenly smell spring. The biting cold, snow, and frost can no longer disguise the fact that the days are getting longer and the green is becoming more vibrant again. And those who then look for the first green shoots among the remnants of snow will not be disappointed: The first leaf tips of snowdrops, crocuses, and grape hyacinths have indeed bravely fought their way up from the frosty depths into the light.
The sight of these delicate little plants of the season defying the elements and even the darkness gives me weak knees every time. This optimism, known only to a plant whose nature it is to grow towards the sun, is as touching as it is shocking - and it is exactly this feeling that Serge Lutens' wonderful De Profundis evokes in me.

“Memento mori” I read here, “graveyard scent” and “candied melancholy” - and this is precisely how Serge Lutens wants the perfume to be understood. But my nose, the willful one, smells something different. And the heart, the stubborn one, feels what it wants anyway.

Cool and green. That is the first impression of what I have sprayed on my wrist. Plant juice. Elixir of life. The scent conjures images of forests full of dew-kissed harebells and violet hyacinths. Young, juicy green in all its glorious bitterness.
Is Vent Vert being referenced here? Yes and no. Perhaps rather L’Air du Temps, because as the scent unfolds further, garden carnations and violets join the floral dance. Red-golden morning sun warms the ground, and the higher the sun rises, the more self-assured the scent becomes.
Embedded in this ethereal green floral magic is a spicy-woody oriental base structure with incense and Iso E Super. This may sound like a bit much of a good thing, but it works excellently and gives the scent complexity without overshadowing the abstract, shimmering delicacy.

Now, it is the case that “De Profundis” is not only the name of this fragrance and a psalm but also the title of an open letter that the brilliant Oscar Wilde wrote at the lowest point of his life while he was imprisoned for indecency between 1895 and 1897. The text is a bitter self-accusation but culminates in the almost defiant attempt to pull oneself out of that dark hole by the hair. From the depths and darkness into the light. With an unwavering belief in oneself and the world. Almost like a small, helpless bulb plant in January.
For this reason, I would like to conclude this commentary on a fragrance that radiates so much hope for me with a quote from Oscar Wilde from kinder times: “Everything is going to be fine in the end. And if it’s not fine it’s not the end.”