Nuit de Cellophane was released by Serge Lutens in early 2009 as part of the brand's export collection. The press release for this fragrance includes a typically Lutensian snippet of prose-poetry and dialogue, but the sample-vial card offers a more concise description: "The night embodied in scent and sight. Chinese osmanthus." Nuit de Cellophane's list of notes includes jasmine, osmanthus, carnation, lily, almond, honey, sandalwood, and musk.

I hope my "perfumista" credentials won't be revoked when I reveal that I'm not a Serge Lutens fanatic. I admire the line's artistic philosophy and many of its fragrances (and I did own the original Shiseido Féminité du Bois years ago), but although I can appreciate the scents in an abstract sense, I somehow don't enjoy wearing most of them. Even Sa Majesté la Rose, the rose soliflore of the line, which would seem to be a good fit for my tastes, rubs me the wrong way. (Is it the geranium that bothers my nose? the honey? I've never been able to figure it out.) Long story short, I respect Serge Lutens from a distance, but the house's aesthetic just doesn't fit me. On the other hand, Nuit de Cellophane sounded like the type of sweet floral that usually appeals to me, and if it turned out to be a non-Serge-like scent, as many diehard Lutensians lamented, then I would probably like it...

Several years ago, a perfumista friend and I shared a few rounds of sushi at the bar of a spectacular Japanese restaurant neither of us could really afford. Midway through our abbreviated banquet the waitress brought us a palate cleanser — a tiny bowl of jasmine sorbet. It was pale, and a little watery. I expected it to taste that way. But when the frozen crystals hit my tongue my entire head filled with the scent and flavor of sweet jasmine. My friend and I looked at each other with identical expressions of shocked delight.

“Orange blossom!” she exclaimed. She was right. The sweetness made the jasmine flavor very similar to jasmine paired with orange blossom in perfume. It had the same effect as orange blossom water, but without the soapy facet, and with something more... I ate the second, and final, spoonful and it happened again — frozen flowers melting, blooming and then vanishing, in one brief ravishing moment.

Those two beautiful bites have been lurking the back of my mind ever since. With this post and triple digit temperatures as motivation, I dug out my ice cream maker this month and tried to make some at home...

Parfum d'Empire, for those who are not familiar with the line, creates fragrances inspired by historical empires. They've covered quite a bit of ground already, having taken us to Tsarist Russia (Ambre Russe), the Ottoman Empire (Cuir Ottoman) and the Napoleanic Empire (Eau de Gloire), among others. The perfumes are lovely — Ambre Russe particularly so — but none of them have explored themes likely to capture my heart entirely, and so up until now, I've admired the line in an abstract sort of way.

Osmanthus Interdite, on paper, looked like the kind of thing that might finally win me over: it takes the Chinese empire, past and present, as its inspiration, and the fruity floral scent features notes of green tea, citrus, osmanthus, rose, jasmine, musk and leather. Lee over at Perfume Posse told me he would eat his hat (well, strictly speaking, he said he'd eat his hat if he had one) if I didn't like it, and I must apologize (again) for my predictability, but his "hat" is perfectly safe...

Osmanthe Yunnan is the fifth and most recent of the Hermessence series, which debuted in 2004 with four fragrances: Vetiver Tonka, Ambre Narguile, Rose Ikebana, and Poivre Samarcande. Like the others, it was created by Hermès house nose Jean Claude Ellena and is available exclusively in Hermès boutiques. The perfume notes are tea, orange, freesia, osmanthus and apricot.

Osmanthe Yunnan opens with sharp, dry citrus; as noted in the comments last week, it is somewhat reminiscent of another Jean Claude Ellena fragrance, Divine Bergamote by The Different Company. As it dries down, Osmanthe Yunnan veers off in another direction, starting with the lightly smoky scent of dried black tea leaves and gradually allowing more of the osmanthus to shine through...

Osmanthus is one of my favorite floral notes. It is a flowering tree native to China; a related variety is known as Tea Olive in the southern United States. It has a bright, fruity aroma, with hints of apricot. The notes for the Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus are pomello, davana (a sweet Egyptian herb), pimento, osmanthus, water lily, jasmine, cedar, labdanum, musk and vetiver.

Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus starts with a nice burst of citrus (allrecipes has an article on pomello), and light herbal notes. The osmanthus itself is simply radiant; I do not know of any other perfume that so perfectly catches the beauty of the flower. The water lily and jasmine are more muted, as is the cedar. It has a lovely smoky-resinous undertone from the labdanum that saves it from being too sweet and pretty...