I feel almost under qualified to describe this Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine Musky floral. Its dark purple juice immediately conjured up bluebells, my favourite flowers. Curiously, this fragrance has no bluebells. The bluebells may have been a fond olfactory childhood memory triggered by Sarrasins. The first ever perfume I bought myself as fifteen year old girl in 1985 (I am now 33 *cough*) was a Boots scent called Bluebell. It was a small, angular bottle with a little screw top and was pure Bluebells and Petals. However, having been reminded of it so strongly with Sarrasins, I am wondering now if there was a lot of Jasmine in my jar of Bluebells or if I have been muddling up these smells all this time.
I tried Sarrasins blind, but if you’d told me before trying it that it would be strong Jasmine from the off, lasting a whole day and ending with a smudge of Honey I would have turned it down. I’m so glad I didn’t.
This is very similar to A La Nuit, which I tried recently in the Poitiers branch of Sephora. I don’t have it to hand, but it gave me a similar “Bluebell/Jasmine” rush and I remember thinking how un-Serge it was, having tried Borneo 1834, Chergui, Louve and Ambre Sultan. I guess there’s a whole side of Serge I don’t know about yet. What an exciting prospect! Like finding out your favourite author also writes spy novels.
So I guess you could say that Sarrasins showed me a Jasmine I can get on board with. There’s none of that downstairs-loo-in-a vicarage vibe that Jasmine often gives me. This is fresh as the flower itself, with maybe a dewdrop on it to add a touch of poetry. Its clean, to the point of being almost metallic (it has a little in common with my much loved and late Gucci Envy), and its staying power is tenacious, bordering on permanent. I can’t shake the idea that there is Hyacinth in there, and I know there is a frisson of spicy Carnation. The drydown goes very slightly White Musk and Honey on me, but the flowers stay put. It’s like being a sent a floral arrangement that just won’t go off and stays fresh for months.
Sarrasins is a floral that sticks around, almost unchanging, with a not quite medicinal, not quite Anise undercurrent.
I adore Sarrasins, and it may well nudge Borneo 1834 off the winner pedestal in the “My Favourite Serge Lutens Award” category that takes place on my dressing table when I have a quiet moment.