Lalique
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The first spray delivers a cool burst of bergamot cut with freesia's aqueous green qualities, but within moments that distinctive ambrette muskiness asserts itself—simultaneously metallic and soft, like pressing your nose to a bolt of raw silk. The vetiver makes its presence known almost immediately, unusual for a supposedly floral composition, creating an intriguing tension between the fresh citrus and something darker lurking beneath.
As it settles, the rose and osmanthus emerge in a curious duet that refuses to go pretty—the rose is compressed, almost freeze-dried, whilst the osmanthus lends its suede-apricot facets without any jammy sweetness. The Kephalis creates a woody-musky halo around these florals, abstracting them further, whilst that sunflower accord adds an unexpected nuttiness, as though the petals are drying between the pages of a heavy book.
Hours later, you're left with powdered cedarwood and persistent vetiver, that white musk creating a soft-focus effect that keeps the wood notes from going too sharp. The florals have retreated into memory, leaving only their ghostly imprint on skin that smells clean but complex, like expensive stationery stored in an old wooden drawer lined with tissue paper.
Encre Noire pour Elle takes the inky, brooding DNA of Lalique's masculine original and reimagines it through a lens of powdered silk and shadowed petals. Christine Nagel has crafted something genuinely unusual here—a floral that refuses sweetness, anchored instead by a remarkably prominent vetiver that threads through every layer like graphite through paper. The Turkish rose at the heart never blooms into full-throated opulence; rather, it's muted by the hauntingly apricot-suede facets of osmanthus and tempered by the woody-amber abstraction of Kephalis. This molecular note creates a diffuse, almost smudged effect, as though someone has sketched flowers in charcoal and then dragged a thumb across the page.
The bergamot and freesia opening promises conventional femininity before the composition takes a sharp left turn into something altogether more austere. That ambrette seed brings a whisper of metallic musk and damp paper, reinforcing the "encre"—ink—theme beautifully. The sunflower here isn't the bright yellow of summer fields but rather the earthy, nutty character of its seeds, adding a subtle graininess. What emerges is a fragrance for those who find conventional florals too obvious, too eager to please. This is for the woman who wears grey cashmere and silver jewellery, who prefers rainy afternoons to sunny terraces. It's sombre but not sad, restrained but oddly compelling—like watching storm clouds gather over a formal garden. The cedarwood and vetiver base ensures this remains firmly in Lalique's shadow-loving territory, a floral sketch rendered in shades of grey and taupe.
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3.6/5 (104)