Rousse Serge Lutens 2007

When I hear the name "Serge Lutens," I expect a knockout, an olfactory uppercut, possibly even a nose assailant.
I have been conditioned since "Miel de Bois," my first Lutens, which refused to leave my side for a week, despite countless showers and baths.
Just as the experience of touching a hot stove as a child taught me never to approach glowing objects carelessly again, this first encounter with a Lutens taught me to exercise caution with every upcoming confrontation - and there were many.
Almost always, my cautious approach proved to be correct; almost always, even with the most homeopathic dosing, I had to award top marks in sillage and longevity - exceptions confirmed the rule, and the rule was the rule.

When "Rousse" moved in with me, I was sure I was dealing with the strongest tobacco, an olfactory atomic bomb, so to speak.
Amber, wood, and cinnamon are not exactly guarantees for a subtle eau even among more restrained fragrance mixers, and in Christopher Sheldrake's vocabulary, the term "shy" seems not to exist - which is by no means meant negatively, don't let me be misunderstood!
Now "Rousse" is in one of my few splash bottles and can be dosed significantly more discreetly than would be possible with a sprayer, so I initially applied a tiny drop to my skin.

Indeed, from the small puddle, a woody-cinnamon-dark cloud arose, not overly voluminous, yet clearly perceptible to my cautiously approaching nose.
"Big Red!" was (also) my first thought, but this association only lasts as long as skin and nose form nearly a unit - distance causes the cinnamon dominance to fade and the dry wood notes to come more to the forefront.
Had I expected a Christmas-gourmand scent, I would have been disappointed - the cinnamon interpretation in "Rousse," Big Red or not, has only a restrained sweetness and places the deep spiciness, sharpness of the spice in the center, perfectly flanked by the dry, almost austere cedarwood.
Before my mind's eye, the image of a desert nomad emerges, the face veiled, only the eyes looking very directly and intensely, radiating warmth, straightforwardness, and a certain proud severity.
"Rousse" - yes.

Perhaps it's due to the application method, the dabbing, that "Rousse" proves to be almost monothematic on my skin, as cinnamon cedar, cedar cinnamon, and I cannot perceive any development in the conventional sense.
Rather quiet from the very beginning, "Rousse" weakens, softens, and becomes gentler minute by minute, and after about an hour, the amber joins in, ultimately steering the fragrance in a more feminine direction without reviving it.
This surprises me, as such an early fading seems quite unusual for this genre, not just for a Lutens.
"Rousse" stays with me for just a handful of hours - then the nomad has moved on.