๐๐ฉ๐ฆ 30 ๐๐๐ ๐ง๐ณ๐ข๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ๐ด ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ 200โฃโฃ.
Do you like money? Who doesn’t.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Believe it or not, money is the least interesting thing a fragrance collector can have. Money can buy volume, but it has never once bought taste, and it has certainly never bought the particular, unglamorous trait required to find something worth finding: patience.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
There are all kinds of collectors, and some of them seem strange: the master, the archivist, and the writer. If you’ve been following me, you already know which one I am.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Take the collector who has built a shrine to a single fragrance, 20 bottles of whatever, acquired across decades like tree rings, each one marking a different batch, a different year, a different argument about whether the pineapple and birch used to smell better before the house swapped a supplier. To the outsider this looks like myopia, but it is closer to mastery of a single discipline.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
A person who paints pictures with oil on canvas is an artist, and so is a person who draws pictures on someone’s skin with a tattoo needle. Neither one is doing it wrong, they just picked different things to be really, really good at and were patient about going about doing so.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Now 20 bottles of the same thing might sound silly to you. ๐๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐บ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ? But that person made the personal decision to learn everything about it, every little change, every year, every version. I wouldn’t call that boring, it’s a special kind of dogged collecting, like knowing one book so well you could recite it verbatim, instead of only remembering the covers of a hundred books.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Depth is a discipline, it only looks like a limitation from the outside for people who don’t know better.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Or take the archivist. You know, the one who has all but abandoned release calendars for the dark corners of eBay, trawling for formulations created before IFRA ruined them, releases that predate most of the internet’s opinions about them.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
These are people who have grown deeply, almost constitutionally skeptical of marketing and popularity as measures of anything real. They live in a past of their own construction, curated one discontinued batch at a time, and that past is no less valid a place to live than the future the drop-chasers are always waiting on, refreshing a brand’s Instagram for the next hyped release.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
No brands court the archivists, and no influencer is sent a gifted unit of something that stopped being made a decade ago. Archivists hunt because they believe with all their souls that modern life is rubbish. They understand something the industry spends considerable money trying to make you forget: a fragrance’s worth has almost nothing to do with its retail price or how new it is, it has almost everything to do with appreciating art before a toddler was allowed to scribble all over it.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I’m a very different kind of collector, neither a master nor an archivist. I am not an influencer, I’m just a long-time journalist with a passion for critiquing fragrances and the industry that spawns them. And yes, I like money as much as the next person, I said so up top, and I mean it. Brands are approaching me now for communications and marketing consulting so when they come knocking I don’t turn them down. But the 4-6 articles I’ve written every month, for two years running, were never about that, and nobody pays me to fall for a 40 CAD bottle from Facebook Marketplace. I do it because writing about fragrances, done honestly, is a service, not a transaction, and you may not agree with me. That’s fine, there are times when I don’t agree with myself either.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Giving my impressions about fragrance might seem unnecessary to some (for the tiktok boys who hate to read and complain about the length every week it definitely is!), but to me writing is a kind of service. The moment a review is written for clicks or cash instead of for your nose it stops being criticism and becomes noise wearing criticism’s clothes.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I don’t want to write for people’s eyes and ears, I want to write for their noses.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
That was precisely the instinct I was following last autumn, when a bottle of Lalique Ombre Noire quietly surfaced, waiting for someone to notice it before it vanished for good, before I could tell you about it.โฃโฃ
๐ ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐๐ค๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐คโฃโฃ
I found Lalique Ombre Noire the way most good discoveries happen, sideways, and almost by accident. It was last autumn, and Facebook Marketplace’s algorithm, for once doing something useful with its surveillance of my scrolling habits, surfaced a bottle sitting on the other side of the city.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
It was 40 CAD, unsealed and probably used once or twice, being offered with the original box. Even online I could tell the bottle was beautiful, which makes sense considering Lalique is first and foremost a maker of fine glassware. I suspect that Lalique selling niche-level fragrances at bargain bin prices isn’t really about the money, it reads more like a brand-building endeavour than one centred around profit.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Before I left my home to grab the bottle I asked the seller if she’d be willing to take 10 off, and she said yes. Sometimes that’s all it takes. You just have to ask.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I’d known of Ombre Noire, French for Black Shadow, the way you’ve heard rumours about an individual before you know the person. Someone in fragcomm who hated Lalique’s Encre Noire lineup asked if the three were siblings with Ombre Noire, but they aren’t; Ombre Noire has nothing in common with the other two beyond the maker and “noire” on the bottle.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Encre Noire fragrances’ calling card is inky black vetiver, a tropical grass, hence the name (encre noire means “black ink” in French). They live in an entirely different olfactory family from Ombre Noire, which is an innovative Middle Eastern style fragrance. Whatever instinct produced Ombre Noire, it wasn’t trying to extend a lineage, it was about trying to do something entirely and wonderfully different.โฃโฃ
โฃ
I sat in my car with my new bottle after the seller disappeared back into her house, and sprayed a hand twice, with no idea what to expect. What came up was mint, sharp, cold, almost medicinal for the first few seconds, riding on top of something green and slightly bitter I’d later place as fig leaf. Then, quickly, warmth: tobacco leaf folded around a raw, chunky, almost mineralic stick of cinnamon.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Underneath all of that sat a rich resinous foundation, cognac, myrrh, frankincense, cedar and tonka bean, giving the whole composition a kind of amber gravity.โฃ The notes danced together as only a magician or master perfumer could conjure.โฃ
โฃโฃ
As I drove home I noticed that the fragrance did not develop much. That was fine. Sometimes a fragrance can be linear, consistently whispering the same words like a mantra. While a three-part play running from opening to thesis to conclusion would have been fantastic for the price point, the fragrance as I experience it has far more than enough character that it doesn’t matter.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Where the fragrance does have it’s only real, indefensible weakness is in performance. On my skin, the first sprays I ever wore projected for two hours before I found myself reaching to reapply. That has since improved slightly: after letting the bottle sit and breathe for a period of months, it’s with me 3-4 hours before fading away. I know what you’re thinking โฆ that’s an improvement, though a very modest one, not a transformation. I fully concur. If I was to nitpick, the only other complaint I had was that the juice is tinted a deep amber capable of staining clothes, but it’s nothing so over the top as many Serge Lutens frags. Spray from a distance on dark clothes and you’ll be fine, it won’t be noticeable.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
On clothes, the performance story changes considerably: sprayed onto my dark grey hoodie, the fragrance held on for over 12+ hours in a way it never quite manages from my own neck and wrist.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
A significant number of reviewers online compare Ombre Noire to curry or masala, and treat that comparison as a criticism. I want to address that directly, because I don’t think it holds up, at least not on my skin and not to my nose.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I have eaten curry and masala dishes many thousands of times over the course of my life, it is not an occasional exposure for me, it is a lifelong, near-daily olfactory and culinary vocabulary. I do not get that comparison from Ombre Noire in the slightest. What I get is closer to a spice cabinet built from cinnamon, tobacco and resin rather than turmeric, cumin and coriander. They are related only in the loosest sense that both involve “spice,” the same way describing a chocolate bar and a can of cola as both “brown and sweet” would technically be true and completely useless.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I’ve said it at other times, and I’ll say again here, that if this fragrance carried Amouage’s name and a price tag several multiples higher, I don’t think a single person would question it. I have more than passing experience with Amouage (I currently own nine and had two more but sold them after getting bored with them) and the resemblance in ambition, if not in raw material cost, is real. Ombre Noire is not trying to be a designer fragrance punching politely within its category. It’s trying to be something else with niche vibes, and mostly succeeding, at a price that makes the whole conversation feel slightly absurd.โฃโฃ
๐๐ก๐๐ญ ๐๐ฌ๐ค๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ญ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฌโฃโฃ
At 30 bucks this is a fragrance that argues my thesis better than I could argue it myself. Ombre Noire is not perfect, it is difficult to find, and its performance is a letdown, but imperfection can still be sensational. It definitely is here.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
Ombre Noire has been widely reported, across retailers and decant sellers, as discontinued. I have not been able to confirm this directly with Lalique, and at least one account I found online suggests the fragrance may simply have shifted to direct-order-only sales through Lalique’s own site rather than being discontinued. I won’t state either version as settled fact because I do not know the reality, but I would highly advise you cop a bottle if you can.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
The performance, though, I will not let off easy: the weakness there is indefensible, not merely disappointing. Cost is no shield: there are many Middle Eastern-style fragrances on the market today, at the same price point, that outlast Ombre Noire by hours. My best guess, offered as speculation rather than fact, is that Ombre Noire is simply a creature of its moment, a French company behind a Middle Eastern themed fragrance released in 2017, before “beast mode” performance had become the assumed baseline for anything wearing Middle Eastern spice and resin so openly. That theory only explains why the fragrance is limited, I do not excuse it.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
And still, I reach for Lalique Ombre Noire, knowing exactly what it will and won’t do. About 3-4 hours of wear, but some compositions are worth loving past their flaws rather than because of the absence of any. This is where a collector’s worth is found, not in the number of bottles they own or how much they spend per week, month or year.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
What you need is the only tool that cost me anything in this entire story: the willingness to ask. To ask yourself if something people are not talking about is worth having. To ask a stranger for 10 off a bottle that is already just 40. To ask whether a fragrance deserves defending on its merits, or only on its price. It’s also, I’d wager, the difference between a 30 CAD fragrance and one wearing Amouage’s name on the front, not the juice inside, but who bothered to go looking for it.โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
I found a fragrance that smells like it was seven times what I paid, in a place most people had already stopped looking. That is the entire hobby, distilled. Not owning the rarest thing in the room, but being the one who is patient, lucky and still asks the question: why?โฃโฃ
โฃโฃ
๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ช๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฆ๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐จ๐ข๐ซ๐ (๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ฎ๐ฆ๐๐ซ ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ซ๐๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ-๐๐๐ซ๐๐ง๐ข): Top notes of mint, fig leaf, bergamot; middle notes of tobacco leaf, cinnamon, papyrus; base notes of cognac, myrrh, frankincense, cedar, tonka bean. Performance: indefensible for what it asks of you, roughly 2-3 hours on skin initially, improving modestly to 3-4 hours after many months of ripening; 12+ hours on clothing. Apply generously and expect a skin scent within a few hours. Widely reported as discontinued, though I have not been able to confirm this directly with Lalique.โฃ
โฃโฃ
๐๐ญ๐ช ๐๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ช ๐ช๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐๐ฅ๐ช๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ-๐ช๐ฏ-๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ฆ๐ง ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ญ๐ช ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ธ๐ข๐ญ๐ข. ๐๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐ต๐ธ๐ฐ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ค๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ช๐ด๐ฎ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ช๐ค๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ณ๐ข๐จ๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐บ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ด ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ง๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ-๐ต๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด.โฃ
