Lacrima Liquides Imaginaires 2014

I initially dismissed ‘Lacrima’ as a frankincense soliflore. Not that I have anything against frankincense, no, quite the opposite, I like frankincense, but it often has a dominance that quickly tires me. I feel similarly about oud or saffron, whose use is often overwhelmingly impactful.
However, frankincense is not supposed to be present in ‘Lacrima’. The note descriptions instead mention elemi resin and smoky wood: it’s quite possible that these two ingredients create a sort of frankincense effect, very possible indeed. It certainly smells wonderfully resinous, woody, and smoky. But it’s by no means just that!

Frankincense fragrances - I’ll stick with frankincense for now - only become truly interesting for me when one knows how to counteract the dominance of the incense: bright, fresh nuances for example, or even fruity ones.
In the case of ‘Lacrima’, the perfumer has opted for aldehydes and pink pepper: airy-ethereal freshness and fruity-spicy sharpness thus form the entrance of the fragrance, accompanying the deep, organ-like tone of the smoky resins.

Towards the middle of the progression, when these brightening notes begin to fade and the smoky resins perform their high mass, the base notes seem to slowly rise from below: labdanum and benzoin, moss and castoreum. Regarding the latter: I don’t smell it, not at all. Apparently, the amount used is so small that it hardly registers, or it is so well integrated that it can’t be noticed at all.
Either way: animalic-phobics, don’t worry, the beaver has not been spotted!
Instead, the resins come into play more and more clearly. The fragrance becomes softer, rounder, more caressing as it progresses. Here it begins to become what it is supposed to be: a soul comforter, a remedy for heartache and sorrow. At least that’s what the manufacturer claims, attributing these qualities to ‘Lacrima’.
It may work for some. I don’t like to settle into such emotional states, and therefore don’t require any olfactory comfort, but towards the end, ‘Lacrima’ does indeed unfold a soothing, almost calming, if you will, therapeutic effect.

Labdanum and moss give the fragrance a classic chypre twist, far from the proportions of Mitsouko, but recognizable upon closer sniffing into the scent. This unobtrusive chypre character completes the fragrance in the base, framing it downwards, just as the aldehydes arch it upwards, and allows it - here I’ll echo Ergoproxy’s words - to rest within itself. The fragrance remains with itself, doesn’t tell many stories at once, doesn’t meander, stays on topic. And the topic is: when you feel like crying, do something good for yourself, even if it’s rubbing in soothing and fragrant resins.

What I really like about ‘Lacrima’, aside from the fact that it smells wonderful, are its proportions: the few notes give it a slender stature that still develops presence. The fragrance is clearly perceptible without ever becoming loud - there are truly other calibers of frankincense! This pleasant but not pushy presence lasts a long time, very long, at least on my skin. Even the next morning, I can perceive it as a soft skin scent.

Only the blue color of the bottle doesn’t quite fit the content, just as it doesn’t really fit ‘Phantasma’ - only somewhat with ‘Melancolia’. However, the blue, alongside the white of the packaging, is likely more due to the connection with Hippocrates, medicine, and pharmacy, particularly with the vessels in which medicines were once stored: white ceramics with blue inscriptions.
Seen this way, the blue fits quite well after all, even though I generally don’t like fragrances from blue bottles - I like this one very much.

Good thing I doubted my first judgment!