Sandalwood without sandalwood: Santal 33 (Le Labo, 2011)
(lelabofragrances.com)
As I've said before, most times I go into one of these writeups trying to answer a question. What is musk, what is amber, why is licorice Like That? So my question for Santal 33 was, why is this thing one of the most popular fragrances of the twenty-first century?
I have worn it 5-6 times, and I honestly have no idea.
I'm not even trying to be salty about this; I am genuinely, neutrally perplexed. Right now, even as I'm typing this, something's occurred to me, though. See, what I was going to say was, "This is supposed to be a sandalwood fragrance. It's a failure. It smells like leather and cucumbers. I barely get any sandalwood at all." And then I remembered what happened with me and the current eau de toilette of Samsara: is Le Labo also using a synthetic sandalwood, a "big molecule" like Javanol, which I can't smell?
As you might recall, there are certain synthetic notes that some people are just anosmic to. Kind of the way cilantro just tastes like soap to some people; it's personal, and it's weird. I'm fine with cilantro, but the current Samsara EdT—one of the biggest (as in physically biggest projection that will knock you down) sandalwood fragrances ever—smelled subtle on me. Or rather, it smelled subtle on me to me. I don't have any data on what I smelled like to other people who can actually perceive Javanol etc. All I really got was what must have been a smaller amount of natural Australian sandalwood oil at the bottom. And that's what I think I'm smelling—even less of it—in the drydown of Santal 33. The rest of the time: leather. And salad.
Which blew my mind, because the first time I heard of this fragrance was an opinion piece that I can't find now, to the effect of "Everybody in New York smells like sandalwood now and I'm sick of it. Thanks, Santal 33." I can't find that link, but I sure can find these:
That Perfume You Smell Everywhere Is Santal 33 (2015)
Le Labo Santal 33: The Scent That Went From Ruggedly Cool to Utterly Basic (2019)
I Don’t Care If Le Labo Santal 33 Is the [Pumpkin Spice Latte] of Fragrance
Someone has to say it – stop wearing Santal 33 (2021)
“everyone in New York smells like Santal 33” (2023)
Le Labo co-founder Fabrice Penot: "We are lucky at Le Labo to have a few 'cults' in our collection. But Santal 33 is another level of success; it has had a stupid amount of success. As a perfumer, you always secretly hope, but you never expect, such an impact."
Why is everybody wearing it??
(I love "a stupid amount of success." He gets it.)
I mean, I live in Elbow, Alabama (please show me this magical world where everyone smells like sandalwood), and I never fucking leave the house, so I wouldn't know that "everyone" does. I think I also have to accept that I will never, through no fault of Le Labo's, understand the allure for myself if I can't even smell the sandalwood. To orient us, though, a nifty summary from the "Utterly Basic" article:
Though it's now difficult to recall a time when SoHo wasn't filled with errant whiffs of the instantly recognizable aroma, Santal has only been around since 2011. Le Labo was inspired by both its preexisting, similar-smelling candle, Santal 26, and the rugged Marlboro Man ads from the latter half of the 20th century. In a press release, the perfumery described Santal 33 utilizing the romanticism of the early American west: "An open fire… The soft drift of smoke… Where sensuality rises after the light has gone," decidedly masculine descriptors for a unisex scent that would come to represent the smell of the social and fashion elite.
Indeed, here's the Le Labo site description:
Imagine sitting in solitude on the rugged, wide plains of the American West, firelight on your face, indigo-blue night skies above. There is nothing around save for the soft, desert wind. You. Are. Free.
From this defining vision was born SANTAL 33: a perfume that touches the vast and wild universality of this dream... that intoxicates... It combines a mix of cardamom and notes of iris and violet, which crackle in the formula. Added to this smoking wood alloy (Australian sandalwood, cedarwood) are some spicy, leathery, musky notes, giving this perfume its signature and addictive comforting scent.
The thing is, Santal 33 is also notorious for smelling like dill pickles on people. I actually did get a whiff of dill—the dry herb, not from a pickle jar—when I first wore it on my wrist. But when I wore Santal 33 on the back of my hand—a "method" I discussed here—suddenly a plain, watery cucumber came out. Consistently, in fact, the next four times I wore it, and it really changes the mood of the fragrance, particularly if you can't smell the sandalwood. (Like I said, I can smell a little in the base notes as time goes on, maybe a small quantity of natural oil. It leans more cedar than anything.)
Curiously, the official Le Labo description doesn't mention papyrus, which is a fairly key note in every unofficial listing I've seen (parfumo.com, for example). I wondered at first if the "cucumber" note I was getting came from the papyrus, but that’s said to smell "aromatic or woody, a little dry, earthy and spicy." Which fits the Santal 33 brief perfectly, and might be the herbal "dill" note.
And some people do claim that it's the papyrus, but a poster on r/fragrance said, "Violet and sandalwood together can produce a note that comes off as dill-like." So I google further into this, and I find that "violet leaf" is often Givaudan's aromachemical Undecavertol, which has a "green-floral, fresh, fruity" character, and that could account for the plain cucumber I was getting.
At that point I remembered that Nest's South Pacific Sandalwood has violet leaf, sandalwood, and vetiver, and I happen to have a tiny "discovery" bottle. Guess what? Cucumber. So I'm going to say that [violet leaf + sandalwood] is a strong hypothesis, with or without papyrus.
Does vetiver contribute to the Pickle Effect? It’s not listed in Santal 33, but this fragrance is, after all, named after the number of components that perfumer Frank Voelkl used, and clearly, Le Labo is not revealing all of them. Vetiver, like papyrus, usually has a smoky, earthy quality; other varieties, like an essential oil I have, and the vetiver I think must be in Kuumba Made's Egyptian Musk, smell somewhat watery to me. Like, not marine "aquatic," but "watery-vegetal." If Santal 33 happened to contain vetiver, that could also contribute to the cucumber scent, I don' t know. I feel like the cucumber and/or pickle aspect isn't intentional, unless cowboys really love a good Claussen; it was probably the smoky, earthy, musky facets of vetiver (if I'm right) that were meant to come forward.
Why is Santal 33 so popular, though? Again: I don't even dislike it, but I have no idea. It's a strange one, and if can't smell the note it's named after, there's clearly some revelation being withheld from me here. In fact, Santal 33 really makes me question my concept of "masculine" and "feminine" in fragrance, because, while we all know that Gender Is Fake Except For the Parts You Enjoy anyway, this perfume in particular renders those terms useless. In fairness to me, Fabrice Penot says, "We never thought about who was going to wear it in terms of gender at Le Labo. We are more thinking of the souls — perfumery has to be sexual to me — it has to create an attraction, an addiction."
Now, I only have half a post drafted about what "sexual" terms in fragrance ("sexy," "flirty," "carnal") are supposed to mean if you (I) would like write more inclusively about perfume, so we're going to have to table "perfumery has to be sexual," not to mention the rhetorical jump from "souls" to "sexual," for a moment. This is a whole Thing that deserves airtime of its own.
But even considering that. Santal 33 is extremely mild and neutral and cool on me. It is not the least bit what I, an allosexual, no really I'm sure, would consider "sexual." I know what Fabrice Penot is trying to say, probably, and my nose isn't getting it. Maybe I need to smell it on someone else! Maybe I need to smell the sandalwood!!! Perfume Shrine says it's meant to smell like Sam Elliott in a bottle? Yeah, no, on me, Santal 33 is this cool, tender, vegetal leather that reminds me of the deeply worn-in glove I played softball with as a teenage girl. No spice, no smoke, very little wood, no "crackling" florals.
I've actually been looking for the scent of that glove for a long time, and here it is. I truly have the (unhelpful) urge to say that this is a "feminine" leather. It is not the least bit rugged on me (one supposes that the sandalwood might have made a difference). But then you have to ask, what makes a fragrance "masculine" or "feminine" in the first place? I have two hypotheses that I'm researching, but they're basically 1) "hormonal skin chemistry, which both changes and is changeable" and 2) "antiquated bullshit," since we don't do gender essentialism in this house. Maybe Santal 33 is perfectly "rugged" in its tenderness and I just need to be thinking more Quincey Morris—or Annie Oakley, for that matter—than the Marlboro Man.
The "cool tender leather" smell did keep me coming back to Santal 33, though—I wore it five or six times, until finally the vial broke. Would I get a replacement and add it to my "gonna keep wearing" box? I'm not sure. Both Le Labo's co-founder and many, many user reviews I saw talk about the fragrance being "addictive," and maybe that's it. I felt pretty neutral about it, even disappointed, when I was wearing it... and then kept trying it again.
Is it the very strangeness that makes it popular? Is it the contrast between "soft, watery, vegetal" and the "rugged, masculine" vibe that Le Labo actually advertises? Does Santal 33 change to suit each wearer, and my particular chemistry wanted to smell like softball glove salad? Again, since I can't smell the "santal," I may not ever be able to figure out why New York smells like Le Labo. Maybe the more interesting question is, what's it going to smell like next?
Perfume discussion masterpost
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Third Harvest: Blood, Nui Cobalt
Dragon's blood, black tea, honey, scarlet musk, soft suede, crushed cloves, garnet cherry and merlot
Tasty in bottle. Very red, juicy. First skin amp is musky, still with that cherry edge, clove honey wending it's way into my sinuses like a gold snake, a surprisingly wonderful, robust suede. Tea an overall blender, winding around everything else. A cool murkiness from the merlot. This one is real nice. Something I could call an affinity with my skin. Hope the musk calms and the cherry clove honey comes forward
The cherry throws a bit! The clove in my throat nice
Comforting incense that definitely belongs in the red rose parlour. Works with the food I'm eating <3 really good
Shockingly good leather scent too
The drydown is MWAH. Tasty, cool, rosy, like roses floating in cold clove water. Gorgeous
Compare to HOG come hither
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Awaken the Witch, Nui Cobalt
Leather bound Grimoires on mahogany shelves, hot tea with vanilla and honey, sandalwood incense and black patchouli, cardamom and coriander
In bottle it's soft and murky, with a creeping sweetness and slight chill
Applied, the sweetness puffs out slightly, honey vanilla tempered austerely by rich brown mahogany and that leather. The cardamom wisps airily, almost cheerfully above it all. Black tea is forefront, but it's well blended.
What's really interesting about it is how rich and assertive the notes are, but the scent itself is almost elusive. It has throw, but somehow it smells like the room itself is emitting the scent, like I'm surrounded by the ghost of a library only I can see. If anything the throw is stronger than the huff, which is very odd and kinda kickass.
It's almost as if it blends into my own skin scent, which is something I expect of ambers and light musks, Not the notes presented here. It's brilliantly evocative of hidden power, lurking in the studious mind of a witch. Right now they're just reading with a cuppa, but the air hums with potential, the knowledge hidden between pages and the wisdom yet to be realized. It's dope
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SUDDENLY I AM IN GREAT NEED TO SHOUT YES DADDY?! AT MY F*CKING SCREEN SEBASTIAN YOU 🤬🤬🤬🥵
Okay okay okay-
I completely agree. This?
THIS Sebastian?
Complete Daddy.
(Do I feel like he'd still probably melt under Chris like a good, distinguished baby though? Yes. But. Alone he is a DILF. A fucking DADDY.)
This Sebastian looks like he would sigh and shut his eyes for a little too long for it to just be a regular blink when you act up... that is, if you can think enough to act up when he goes strutting around, looking like that-
Hair smoothed back, bearded, covered in that slick suit, and sporting not just a watch but a watch, a ring, and a bracelet... 😮💨
It makes your brain turn off.
Maybe then you could argue that that's why you act up. You didn't think it through. Even if, you know, it doesn't take much thought to be good. To thoughtlessly obey.
Although, it's so much more delicious this way. When you do what you're not supposed to and he turns, looking at you with his eyes darkening, warning. He'll wait until he can steal you away, in private, to slip his hand under your chin, tilt your face up, and whisper, "you're giving me more gray hairs, I swear to god."
The gravel in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.
But, apparently you aren't distracted enough to not talk back. Your heart races in your chest. "You look good with them. The gray. It's making you look-" your brain finally catches up to your mouth. You stop.
Sebastian raises his eyebrows, daring you to keep going.
His fingers tighten on your chin.
"Making me look like what, darling?"
You swallow. Your mouth is still dry though. You can't look away from his eyes, blue and grey and commanding.
"Is it making me look too old for you? Stressin' me out, giving me gray hairs." He whispers, half teasing, half serious.
You whimper before you can reel in the noise and you shake your head embarrassingly fast like you're trying to shake the noise away.
"What's it making me look like?" He reiterates as he lets go of your chin. But... he doesn't quit touching you.
Touching you intentionally.
His hands straighten the necklace you're wearing. Cream pearls. They match the bracelet on Sebastian’s wrist.
His fingertips barely skim your skin. Brushing past it in favor of your jewelry. You ache for more of a touch. Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you feel like he must be able to see it, beating against your ribs and pulsing in your neck as your blood heats.
You cannot hold it behind your teeth anymore--it jumps out when he pulls softly on the string of pearls, "Daddy-"
He chuckles softly, pulling away from you. Sizing you up and down with his eyes. There's an attractive, cocky grin on his lips. "I thought so," he says before turning on his heel and walking back out to the carpet. The flashing cameras. Public.
It's all you can do to grab for him. His wrist.
His wrist with the matching bracelet.
Fuck.
Sebastian entangles your fingers. Holding your hand. Tugging you out onto the carpet once again no matter if your knees suddenly feel weak or if your face is hot. He's pulling you along. You're going. You have to. Daddy is making you and you want to go. To obey.
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