In theory, I’m supposed to be a huge fan of Olfactive Studio‘s Lumière Blanche. The concept of pairing scent to a photograph especially appeals to me, for I tend to see my scents in terms of images first and foremost instead of lists of notes. And the list of notes for Lumière Blanche ought to send tingles down my spine, because they include my favourites such as iris, almond, sandalwood, tonka bean and cardamom. Even prior to wearing Lumière Blanche, my mind’s nose had this scent-vision of a heavenly scent combining all of these things – oh, comfort of all comforts, and elegance of all elegance.
Alas, I was not moved by Lumière Blanche. Not one bit. After a mildly interesting burst of sparkly cardamom, Lumière Blanche nestled itself within the awkward middle ground straddling sweet woods and synthetic musks. It’s meant to be a comforting scent, but the presence of some aromachemical has me on edge. It is an oddball that never quite settles, as though a shark à la Jaws may show up at any moment to disturb the idyllic and calm beach upon which the bathers gather. Strangely enough, I keep detecting a rhubarb accord that is reminiscent of another Olfactive Studio composition, Still Life, except in the latter it is a full-blown rhubarb, whereas here it shudders in the background much like an enfeebled baby-like Lord Voldemort (yes, I can say his name) does after having been vanquished in the final installment of the Harry Potter series. Like shriveled-up Voldemort, it doesn’t have any power, and yet its mere presence gives the observer a sense of revulsion.
Lumière Blanche lacks the refinement and elegance of L’Eau d’Hiver, which, in my opinion, is a far superior rendition of a similar theme. I wouldn’t call it a synthetic mess, because it’s not, but it just happens to be on the wrong side of off for me.
~ The Smelly Vagabond