Santal Blanc by Serge Lutens

bhean_sidhe

It could have been a great perfume if not for that sour note that ruins the whole thing for me. I don't know what it is but I wish it wasn't there.

yvashche

I spent a lot of time choosing to purchase just one full bottle of Lutens and after much sampling, I chose this one mainly because when I wore it at home and it had settled, it was like being enveloped in a comforting cashmere shawl. Lovely.

KalteStern

Just like the very expensive 'genuine' sandalwood essential oil that I bought from the Body Shop a few years back, this has a very cloying, sickly note in it that I would find intolerable if I used much of it, although I generally like sandalwood. Test before you buy, I suggest

guest_A. Rose

Opening on the dry-oil sweetness of nutmeats--or the scrapings inside almond shells--before the slightly yeasty, astringent, wood-pudding creaminess of the sandalwood oil explodes from the blend. There's something creamy, warm and carnal about "Santal Blanc"; like clean skin that's ripened after cuddling in clean sheets all afternoon. The smell of oily, old trees decomposing in a sunbaked and dry place. Every once in a while, you reach to grab a little chunk of pistachio "Turkish Delight" from an oiled, wooden box, and luxuriate in the treat's nutty rosewater, cinnamon, and honeyed sweetness. There's also a slightly peppery, spicy, dried-wood accord found in "Santal Blanc" where it's obviously been touched with a hint of turpentine-refreshing, sweet-water-like benzoin---a smell that makes me think of well-worn and cleaned linens or soft t-shirts on particularily philosophical, sunbleached-sexy people, who might also paint in oils or refinish classic wooden boats. "Santal Blanc" is cozy, laid-back sensuality---but sensuality is its most mischevious game; the amorous emotion you'll feel when it surrounds you--all swirling pudding-woods with hearty, savory touches that speak to your core--might come as a total surprise.

Robert White

Hey, a perfume that REALLY smells like the notes in the description: Sandalwood (duh), Cinnamon bark (redundant superfluity, Cinnamon IS bark...it's like pita bread or rice pilaf), and Siamese Benzoin. (Hey, Serge, it's been Thailand since 1939. Of course, the French had a few other things on their minds back then and they probably just didn't notice. Or perhaps a little hankering after the good old colonial days? What the hell, I'll forgive a lot where genius is involved. I like Celine, too.) Without spices and resins, it wouldn't be a Lutens, naturally. And hovering over this,Iris and musk, just like the package says. Dries down to the smell of...Kentucky Bourbon? It sure is! Takes me right back to my whiskey swilling, dope sniffing, Keith Richards wardrobe wearing days of the mid Eighties. Another triumph, Frenchy.

PR

a sweet, warm and peppery, though I feel like a little bit choking on it, I smell a little wood workshop in it as well, but as it had already been mentioned you have to pass some foodie establishment on the first place.. slightly burning and dusty scent.
Not my type. I don't know if I find any SL scent that I would love or feel necessary to own; so far no success

tessture

Strangely foody cedar on me with musk, cinnamon and benzoin giving a foody-cake feeling. A change from the fruitcake Arabie, but not as rich or round as Ambre Sultan. There’s an edge I don’t care for that is a bit nose-twinging, and I’m pretty sure it’s the sandalwood, with a Mysore lilt that comes across as cumin/sweat. Urk.