Perfume Review: L’Air de Rien by Miller Harris
Perfume Name: L’Air de Rien
Perfume House: Miller Harris
Perfumer: Lyn Harris
First Released: 2006
Concentration: Eau de Parfum
Rating: 5/5
Smells Like: Oakmoss, amber, vanilla and musk
Jane wanted something that represented an essence of quietude, hints of weary books, dust and loved skin, closeness and distance.
Confession time: I do not really know anything about Jane Birkin other than Hermès naming a bag after her, that she dated Serge Gainsbourg for a while (which social media tells me is apparently “ugly boyfriend goals”), and the fact that I genuinely love the bespoke perfume Lyn Harris made for her - L’Air de Rien. I am not a fan of the bag, but the perfume is one that I adore and is one of the few perfumes I plan on keeping in my collection for years to come.
I use perfume to mark the chapters in my life. I have never really been a signature scent type of person, preferring to buy various perfumes I love, wearing them until I finish the bottle, and then moving on. I like having choice and variety with my perfume rotation, and I enjoy the fact that I can come to associate specific perfumes with different times in my life. Much like the wardrobe that changes slowly over time, I have a perfume collection that changes slowly over time. But every now and then a perfume creeps in that is so meaningful to me that I end up buying more than one bottle.
I bought my first bottle of L’Air de Rien in 2013, and ten years later the perfume is still in my rotation. It is my quintessential rainy day scent. Perfect for wearing to snuggle up on the sofa with a blanket, good book, and cup of tea. It is also the one I am most drawn to when I am feeling melancholic and nostalgic. To be honest there was a period where I was unable to wear this as it reminded me of a particularly challenging time in my life, but I am glad to say that I have since found myself reaching for it again. I can wear it with the comforting knowledge that I got through those times.
I am not sure whether other people pair their perfumes with specific fabrics, but for me scent and tactility often go hand-in-hand. This is a cosy perfume for me, and that means I like to pair it with cosy fabrics - think mohair, cashmere and brushed wools. As you can imagine, I get the most wear out of in the colder months, and while I have worn it in Summer, it is limited to grey days (meteorologically or emotionally). It is a warm embrace, a comforting friend, and a scent I use to cheer myself up.
So what does it actually smell like? Well if reviews are anything to go by it smells simultaneously of sex and a dusty second-hand bookshop. And to be honest, I can understand both interpretations, although I veer more towards the latter. This is dusty, mossy, slightly sweet, slightly salty and definitely musky. I picture both a dusty old library and the sensual scent of skin.
The opening has a dry and almost bitter blast of oakmoss, with indolic neroli and an earthy patchouli giving it depth. The backbone of amber is quickly apparent, giving the perfume a creaminess and softness that is present throughout. This is complimented by a dry vanilla and the sweetness of the musk. The former, combined with the oakmoss, reminds me of old books, while the latter combined with the patchouli and leftover indoles, reminds me of skin or fur.
Old books tend to smell slightly of vanilla to some people because of the lignin in wood-based paper, which breaks down over time. Lignin is closely related to vanillin, hence the similar scent profile. And that is what I smell here - the slight vanilla of old books. The oakmoss helps to add a dustiness that makes the books feel almost forgotten, and yet the perfume acts a reminder, bringing them back coupled with the warmth of skin.
The sweetness does not come from the vanilla, rather it comes from the musk, and is also where this perfume gets it notoriety from. The musk to my nose is not the clean and soapy musk of Kiehl’s Original Musk, nor is it the overtly sexual musk of Frederic Malle’s Musc Ravageur. Instead, L’Air de Rien occupies a remarkable middle ground. This is the musk of your lover’s skin first thing in the morning - intimate, close and warm. Sweet and slightly salty to my nose, I should warn you that to my brother it smells “sweaty”.
The combination of old books and warm skin gives L’Air de Rien a sense of melancholic sensuality to me. Intimate but sad, it is absolutely my kind of perfume.
Top Notes: Neroli, Orange Blossom
Mid Notes: Oakmoss, Patchouli
Base Notes: Amber, Musk, Vanilla
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