Serge Lutens • Santal Majuscule • Fragrances
|Would buy this product again.||71%|
Age: 25-29 Skin: Acne-prone, Fair, Neutral Hair: Blond, Curly, Medium Eyes: Green
Santal Majuscule was the first niche fragrance I tried back in the day. I remember a heady hot spicy woody scent and it was just a sample. Lately I swapped for a decant and it's not at all what I remembered, funny how perceptions change!
The opening brings indeed Jeux de Peau in mind but the resemblance dies before long; suddenly I get a whole bunch of honeyed, bruised pink rose petals that turn sour on me. After trying Fille de Berlin and Sa Majeste a la Rose I can safely say that Lutens roses are not meant to be worn by me. The sandalwood gets more pronounced as it dries down but I still get the roses, the cocoa was undetectable unless it was the one who lent the gourmand qualities in the opening. Sillage is strong for the first hour and last 4-5 more.
Age: 44-55 Skin: Combination, Fair-Medium Hair: Brunette, Fine Eyes: Brown
Serves me right for trying sandalwood again. I just have such a difficult relationship with sandalwood and once again it won and I lost. What I love about Santal Majuscule is the divine damask rose, mellowed into subtle bliss by the tonka and cocoa: it's blended so perfectly you can't really define those back notes, just this delicious delicate rose balanced on some wonderful base. But over all this, there's a blasting, wood-alcohol sandalwood that screams off my skin and crawls right up my nose. I'm sure there's a perfumer's note for what that is, but it smells like a bottle of rubbing alcohol distilled from wood chips. Gaiac does this to me too. So while I love the construction of this scent, the sandalwood takes over and ruins it. Dry down brings more balance, with the rose taking on an almost fruity feeling and the other notes imitating face powder, but still the sandal is alcohol-screamy. Too bad Lutens can't do me Rose Majuscule and skip the Santal part...
Age: 44-55 Skin: Dry Hair: Brunette Eyes: Hazel
Beautiful unisex sandalwood and a worthy addition to the Serge Lutens lineup. Majuscule is a traditional complex Lutens which explores the chocolate redolent darkness of Borneo. Rich, lush, dark and sensual.
Age: 36-43 Skin: Combination Hair: Brunette Eyes: Hazel
Round, smooth, sweet sandalwood, very real, very beautiful. Intriguingly, from time to time, some unexpected notes jump out, and that makes it more interesting. A master piece.
Age: Unknown Skin: Other Hair: Other Eyes: Other
Instant love!!! I think I have tried every single Lutens released until 2011; but then I stopped chasing new releases as all of the latest ones until 2011 were a major disappointment (such as Five O Clock au Gingembre, Vitriol d’œillet, Nuit de Cellophane to mention a few). The other day, a colleague had a bottle of Santal Majuscule on her office desk -imagine my surprise! it is so rare to come across a Lutens lover in my every day life- that, out of curiosity, I asked her if I could test it. Well, it has been years since a Lutens achieved to create me an emotion to the extend that Santal Majuscule did. It is certainly not the best Lutens ever released but, at last, he finally seems to be getting back to the creation of fragrances that have made his reputation. I am certainly going to be purchasing a bottle.
Age: 44-55 Skin: Combination, Fair-Medium, Warm Hair: Brunette, Straight Eyes: Hazel
Beautiful... Must agree, nothing like jeux de peau, which I also love. I own douce amere, datura noir, un bois vanille, chergui & JDP.
I got a sample from Aedes and immediatly fell in love. Not normally a fan of rose, but the combination with cocoa, sandelwood, delicious. But not gourmand. Just warm and sexy. Whenever I wear UBV, JDP and this fragrance, I always hear...you smell good, what it that?
Age: 19-24 Skin: Dry, Medium, Warm Hair: Other, Straight Eyes: Black
I got a sample of this not expecting much, but good God do I love this perfume. It reminds me of of my grandmother, hugging her as a kid and sitting on her lap while she read me stories. My grandmother, even now, is one of those extremely well put-together women who never leaves the house without makeup on and smells like luxury. I've always shied away from oriental fragrances because they bring back such strong memories of my grandmother, who's one of the most glamorous women I know and owns a strong fragrance like nobody's business. All the orientals I've tried in the past have made me felt like a little girl trying to wear a fragrance that's much too sophisticated for her. Santal Majuscule reminds me of those heady, classic fragrances my grandmother wears but reimagined in a lighter, more modern blend that makes me feel like a glamorous woman rather than a kid trying to grow up too fast.
Santal Majuscule opens with a fresh rose and creamy sandalwood blend against a backdrop of subdued, sweet cocoa. As the fragrance develops, the rose fades and the tonka bean and cocoa come to the forefront, mixing with the sandalwood to create a buttery, creamy oriental that's not too heady but still very glamorous and feminine. The tonka bean and cocoa give the fragrance an almost caramel-like sweetness, but never sends the fragrance into being overly sweet or gourmand. The fragrance is so well-blended that it's hard to pick up each individual note, and it's definitely one of the most balanced fragrances I've tried. The sillage is moderate, and it lasts about 6-7 hours on me.
I have to disagree with those who say this is identical to Jeux de Peau. Jeux de Peau was a hot gourmand mess on my skin. It was overpoweringly sweet and very simple, reminiscent of plastering caramel sauce on my body. If you tried JDP with high hopes and found that it was too sweet, Santal Majuscule would be a good bet for you. The other sandalwood in Serge Lutens' export line, Santal de Mysore, smells too strongly of cumin and cooking butter and is much more poorly constructed than Santal Majuscule.
If you couldn't tell by the long-winded review, I love Santal Majuscule. It's a beautiful, glamorously feminine fragrance with the right components in the right measurements to create a well-blended scent that makes you feel like a real woman. It's the perfume version of red lipstick and Christian Louboutin heels. While it's not as loud or complex as many orientals out there, it's certainly not boring and I think everyone should try it once.
Age: 30-35 Skin: Combination, Fair-Medium Hair: Black, Straight, Fine Eyes: Hazel
This is a very interesting beauty. It opens up with cocoa powder, apricot and resins I assume is sandalwood. Rose comes after. Not a single note is dominant. The whole combination is bitter and sweet, cool and sleek, full of characters.
Age: 19-24 Skin: Other Hair: Other Eyes: Other
This is my third Serge fume. I had ordered this un-sniffed hoping for the best based off all the rave reviews and the fact that I adore SL perfumes (Daim blond and Fleurs d' Orangier) I must say this has quite some throw in my opinion. One spritz on my bosom will do me, or else it feels overly cloying and heavy on me -- read headache city. This lasts 8 plus hours on me as well. It starts off powdery, woodsy smudge of rose with a twang of dry bitterness. It's a very strange opening, not entirely love in my book. But the dry down...I have no words for the gorgeousness. It just unfolds into this warm, rich, woodsy, sweet (but not overly so), powdery skin. I must say it's very well blended as no note sticks out like a sore thumb. There is an undercurrent of rose, hint of powdery gourmand with the woodsy sandalwood base. Definitely uni-sex. And I would definitely suggest trying before buying because I can see this going terribly wrong for some.
Age: 25-29 Skin: Other, Warm Hair: Other Eyes: Other
When I was a little girl, I'd sneak into my parents' room on afternoons when they were out, and open a small box in the bottom drawer of my mother's night-table. In that box were my mother's wedding ring, her engagement ring with its very modest diamond, an embroidered handkerchief or two, five or six cloisonne bracelets enameled in greens and blues. Tucked to the side, perfuming everything, was a sandalwood fan with silk tassels and hand-carved ribs.
That little box held every luxury that my mother had saved in her life. I don't think the contents totaled more than $200 in value; but at the time, as a lonely child wearing hand-me-downs, they were magical artifacts whose very wearing elevated the wearer. The whiff of a true sandalwood to this day can bring tears to my eyes.
I bought a 3ml decant off a reputable seller on eBay as a small reward for doing well on an exam. My impression of the initial spray was "hm"--a well-constructed, vaguely spicy-incense perfume, topnotes of cocoa, a bit sweeter on the skin than on a test strip. The rose was present, but anchored the perfume rather than asserting itself. All in all, I like it, found it interesting like I did Chergui, but didn't have a visceral reaction either way.
Fast-forward 2 hours: I'm sitting in my oversized sweatshirt and bemoaning my existence as a math-dumb Asian. Everything was number properties, and all was geometry with the world. I shift, and I smell something evocative, something magical, something that stripped away my frustration and brought me back to a time imbued with nostalgia and the perception of beauty, a time now colored with melancholia and the necessary truths that come with growing older.
It's always a good sign when I wonder "dang, something smells amazing" and then realized "oh, that's me". Interestingly, when I tried to sniff my skin under my sweatshirt I didn't get that sandalwood, just a softer version of the spicy-incense accord from before. It was only when I walked around that I caught my elusive sandalwood, rose like what roses should smell like on late June evenings, and maybe a better understanding of who I am and who I've become.