Sidi Bel-Abbès Serge Lutens 2015

It reminded me of that particular scent I notice when arriving at Charles de Gaulle Airport, especially Terminal 1.

On paper, there was a coolness that brought Jicky to mind. Yet once it settled on the skin, tobacco and vanilla began to drift quietly, leaving a calm, generous scent that lasted for hours. The brand’s story suggests tobacco from another era, not necessarily of the finest quality, but on the skin its roughness feels polished away. Smooth, beautiful.

And yet the warmth of beeswax has a slight twist to it. Something faintly animalic, with a quiet sensuality. It is neither simply clean nor simply sensual, and that strange ambiguity is overwhelming.

When I wear this fragrance, place, time and gender seem to recede a little. I feel as though I could become someone simply noble. Exaggerating slightly, I feel almost touched by the divine.

This is a controversial perfume on Lutens’ catalog. Its name comes from an Algerian city in Oran. After smelling this perfume I want to cry, it's bittersweet. on the one hand it's the suffering and the devastation, and on the other hand it's the love for Algeria. It's almost like I can smell all of that here. There's a strong melancholy which I sensed from the minute I sampled the perfume on the Palais royal boutique about a year ago and have adored ever since. I want this perfume to be with me forever. Unfortunately, on my skin it's not as strong as I wanted it to be, and it's a shame for the price tag that it carries.

I belong to those people who really enjoy all the Christmas festivities BEFORE Christmas (I quite like having cinnamon stars and 'Feliz Navidad' at the end of September), but immediately after - that is, on December 27 - I no longer want to see, hear, or smell stollen, stars, and all other Christmas cheer. Then everything gets packed away, and no more Christmas music is played. At that point, I only want pure, quiet, untouched winter. (The only exception is the annual Noel candle from Annick Goutal, which may remain if it hasn't burned out yet, as I perceive it more as wintery than Christmasy, despite its name.)

Products that are clearly wintry but also clearly not Christmasy are not so easy to find. I find this particularly difficult with music. An album I enjoy listening to in winter is Loreena McKennitt's 'An Ancient Muse', on which she weaves traditional themes from the Near and Central Asian regions into a dense yet weightless sound tapestry, which is wonderful to listen to on a quiet winter evening. My favorite piece on it is called 'Beneath a Phrygian sky' - named after the historical region of Phrygia (which the Romans called 'Galatia') in Central Anatolia.

Lutens' or Sheldrake's Sidi Bel-Abbès - a city and a province north of the Algerian part of the Atlas Mountains - embodies the same rare (though certainly not so difficult to identify in perfumes) qualities: density and a weightless playfulness. The Oriental. And the wintry, quiet, reduced essence. Its character - slightly cool and smoky without any church associations - commands distance but is not unapproachable. Waxen solemnity and a bit of rough leather, embedded in soft spices without lasting sweetness. Like a solitary rider galloping through the Phrygian steppe on a starry winter night.

Conclusion: a quiet smoky-spice scent beyond an 'expected', let alone 'ordinary' Oriental. Perfect for lying next to the heater by the window on a gray icy morning at the end of December and watching the snow fall.