Serge Noire 
Serge Lutens (2008)

The topnotes of Serge Lutens Serge Noire‘s smoky, dried fruit incense draw me in every single Goddamn time, like a mermaid's song. And then I am dashed cruelly against the rocks that are this scent's downfall – the unmistakably oniony sweat of unwashed (male) armpits.

Ask me how I know. No, really. I first smelled this when I was visiting Mont San Michel with my family when I was seven. The children had sat down in a grumpy, sun-beaten heap on the doorstop of the nth church, refusing to indulge our parents any further in their unquenchable thirst for the various religious icons and tchotchkes of French medieval churches, which seemed to us to be identical to the ones we had back home, only a little older and grimier.

From our vantage point, we got to study the interiors of everyone's nostrils, skirts, and armpits. People passed over us; we were ignored, perhaps not even seen. A middle-aged man stopped under the mantel and leaned against the cool wall for a moment to gather himself, and in that moment, I understood that dried sweat could smell like onions and black pepper and celery – the makings of a mirepoix, practically – when suspended in droplets in the thicket of a man's armpit hair.

The onion sweat accord can be parsed out later as clove, cumin, black pepper, and incense. While I love clove in stuff like Eau Lente (Diptyque) and the Eau de Parfum by Commes des Garcons, I admit that it can come off as sweaty and metallic to an almost objectionable degree. But the operational word is almost. There's always something in those fragrances to reign it in – herbaceous oppoponax, a bit of honey, some sandalwood. In Serge Noire, the clove business simply goes too far. It sidles up to the breaking point of human endurance and then waltzes brazenly past it, lurching unchecked into pure onion sweat territory whence it cannot be redeemed.

I keep trying it, hoping I am wrong or that my perception will loosen up, allowing me to glimpse the true beauty of this scent as others describe it. But as of May 2020, and upon my 14th attempt, I have to admit defeat.

Whew! The opening of Serge Noire is what I imagined the Scent of Oger to smell like! ;-) To quote Shrek who is an Oger..."Ogers are like onions...they have layers." Serge Noir has several layers thats for sure.

This opens like an acrid, eye burning onion with a dark, dank blackness lurking just under the surface of the onion stench. Within 30 minutes the onion changes to the chap stick like note that I also read about...check and check. The onion apparently comes from the cumin. The chapstick like note I believe is from the elemi, as I've smelled a similar note in an elemi heavy scent before. I'm only about an hour in, so I'm hoping for more transitions that I've read about. I love clove and cinnamon, so I'm hoping for more of that. We'll see how this develops. What a weird fragrance. Weird from the standpoint of, "why would someone purposefully make something like this to market and sell to the public as a scent to wear on their bodies?" It almost makes you wonder if they did it just to see how many people would buy it. The opening alone is off putting enough to drive many people away, but I'm going to work with it and see if I can possibly figure out a way to wear this stuff...