Lalique
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Cypress strikes first with its sharp, resinous bite, amplified by elemi's lemony-pepper facets—it's bracing and almost medicinal, like crushing pine needles mixed with frankincense tears underfoot. Bergamot flickers briefly at the edges, barely civilising the woody onslaught before vetiver begins its inexorable rise from beneath. There's an inky, almost petrol-like quality here that justifies the "Encre Noire" name—wet charcoal rather than fountain pen ink.
The dual vetiver accord settles into full, smoky dominance, earthy and bitter with that characteristic vetiver facet that hovers between burnt grass and damp soil. Frankincense weaves through with its austere, resinous spice, whilst iris emerges not as makeup powder but as the scent of freshly unearthed roots—cold, slightly metallic, strangely compelling. The overall effect is of a forest floor after controlled burning, still smoking, richly organic.
Benzoin's balsamic sweetness finally tempers the vetiver's severity, adding a dark-honey quality that never quite reaches comfortable warmth. Patchouli and sandalwood provide a woody, slightly musty base that lets the vetiver slowly fade rather than disappear entirely. What remains is smoky, resinous skin—you smell like you've spent hours near ceremonial fires, the scent woven into fabric and hair.
Lalique's Encre Noire à L'Extrême strips away any pretence of wearability and plunges straight into the earth. Nathalie Lorson has taken the original's meditative vetiver study and pushed it into shadowed, almost feral territory—this is vetiver not as refined grass but as root pulled from volcanic soil. The opening blast of cypress and elemi resin creates a sharp, turpentine-like brightness that quickly gives way to a dual assault of Haitian and Java vetiver, each variety contributing its particular character: the Haitian brings smokiness and bitter greenness, whilst the Java adds a darker, more mineral quality. Frankincense threads through the composition like incense smoke in a stone chapel, its austere spice reinforcing the fragrance's monastic severity. What saves this from becoming an academic exercise in vetiver varieties is the iris and benzoin in the base, which soften the edges just enough—iris lending its earthy-rooty facet rather than its powdery side, benzoin adding a subtle vanilla warmth that keeps the whole affair from turning completely ascetic. The patchouli and sandalwood provide a woody scaffold, though they're nearly swallowed by the vetiver's dominance. This is for the wearer who finds most woody fragrances too polite, who wants to smell like they've been tending ceremonial fires in a forest clearing. Evening wear for those who consider darkness an aesthetic choice rather than a passing mood.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
3.9/5 (75)