JEUX DE PEAU

5/1/15

Milk. Wheat. Coconut. Licorice. Immortelle. Osmanthus. Apricot. Spices. Sandalwood. Woody Notes. Amber.

Ask yourself how you relieve stress.  Do you take a yoga class? Walk on the beach? Nap? Eat something delicious and full of sugar?  Is there an escape you have found which is able to bring you pure, unadulterated joy?  Now think about smell.  Could it be that the scent of the ocean, apple pie baking, fresh herbs, coffee beans, a rose, makes you stop for a moment and delight in something simple?

In a perfume which was inspired by the warm, fresh bread bought from the bakery of Serge Lutens’ childhood, would it be out of place to say, “This perfume is my jam”? I have been deliberately holding back on writing about it, because I don’t think I can do a good enough job.  I will shamelessly tell you that for right now at least, this is the piece de resistance of the perfume world for me.  Even after having fallen in love very recently, it feels like an old friend; like dis shit and I go way back.  Maybe this is the nostalgia note, which I would list as more prominent than actual ingredients.  Sure, Serge Lutens’ memories are not my memories; his life not my life.  But I feel like he created something for all of us here.  Consider the notes. It almost seems like a joke.  Milk? Wheat? Wait, what? Is he baking dessert or designing a perfume? Well, as it turns out, he is rather doing both.  This scent is grabbing and alluring. I have already mentioned before this being the baked brethren to Confetto by Profumum.  They are both infused with warmth, one by the sun and one by the art of the baker.  Jeux de Peau translates as ‘play on skin,’ a lovely name, and far savvier than ‘delicious croissant I want to devour’ which would have also worked here.  This gourmand does not leave you feeling overstuffed or guilty.  You are a shameless liar if you say you have never been bowled over by the heavenly waft of fresh bread as it cooks in the oven.  It is mouthwatering, and so is this perfume.  One of the things I love the most is that you carry that freshly baked smell out of the kitchen, out of the door of the store, up the street and away.  It’s like a cup of warm cocoa on a frigid winter day. The comfort and the infinite pleasure that sensation conjures, from a liquid housed in glass, is hard to find words for.  It’s as though a spirit resides in that same bottle, with the ability to mail gourmand-infused postcards upon first spray.  Spray one, a café in France! Spray two, the bread your grandma used to bake and spray three, butter and apricot preserves and nutmeg delivered to you posthaste!

Rating: 5. (2 tempting croissants, 2 baguettes w/butter and jam, and a cheeky scone)