Men
Magie Noire
Acordes principales
Descripción
Magie Noire by Lancôme is a floral chypre fragrance for women. Launched in 1978, this composition was created by Gérard Goupy, Jean-Charles Niel, and Yves Tanguy. The top notes unfold with galbanum, blackcurrant, cassia, hyacinth, Bulgarian rose, raspberry, and bergamot; the heart reveals honey, narcissus, cedar, iris root, ylang-ylang, neroli, jasmine, and valley lily; while the base settles on oakmoss, spices, labdanum, patchouli, incense, myrrh, amber, vetiver, sandalwood, and musk.
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Pirámide olfativa
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One of my favorites, it reminds me of my first perfumes, it’s… intense, magical. When I wear it, I’m back in the time of my first youth; I’d love for it not to disappear from the market. Keep in mind when applying it that a little goes a long way, just enough to leave a soft trail.
This perfume has magic; I’ve loved it since I was a child. I had a friend who smelled divine on her, but my skin never accepted it. It’s enigmatic, sweet, dark, sexy, and its spices are wonderful, blending in an incredible way. It’s very warm and incredibly sensual. (Maybe I should try it now? As years pass, pH changes… why not?),
In the 80s, it was an absolutely fabulous and special perfume. Nothing could compare to it: vibrant, sensual, magnetic. Then it seems its formulation was compromised, as sometimes happens with fragrances, I don’t know why. Maybe they changed the formula? Plus, it was discontinued. It’s very hard to find now. But at the time, it was a totally special, dark, attractive perfume. Not for every woman.
Ten years ago, this ‘black magic’ was still in perfumeries; today it’s strangely disappeared. It was a very pleasant woody fragrance, giving a fresh sensation, a floral chypre that didn’t smell mossy or obsolete… probably the market wasn’t big enough for this witch’s dream. Great sillage, good longevity. Let’s hope Lancôme launches something similar soon.
Intense and dark. Its name was chosen very well.
My mother used to wear it.
Does anyone know if the current Magie Noire has anything to do with this filthy wonder I miss so much, or is it better to bury the memory?
My review is for the vintage version. Magie Noire lives up to its name; it was truly a magical potion. My nose remembers it as spiced, dense, sweet, with mature flowers surrounded by incense. Wearing it transported me to a masquerade ball hosted by Marie Antoinette; to wear Magie Noire, you need a commanding personality, otherwise the perfume transports you. An indescribable, dark, magical, sexy, attractive fragrance with great attitude and deliciously enveloping. Its longevity and projection are very intense. If I were to put a face to this perfume, that woman would be Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Aquelarrica is a voodoo potion, born from an orgasmic dance between elegance and demonic lust, another in the arrogant style of Paloma Picasso. On my skin, I smell rose with bergamot and a hint of orange blossom. It lasts forever, radiating pure satanic holiness and sensuality—as if created by a witch squandering carnal and impure passions. It’s a fallen angel or a devil dressed as one, loved or hated, recalling ancestral earth elements and evoking a temple in the Far East where blasphemous smoke rises while the devil dances. What a delight to wear and inhale; I don’t see it as just for women, but very unisex, perfect for cool evenings and delicious winters. I love and cherish it with fervor; you can still find it in department stores, though it’s pricey and worth every penny. This divine fragrance seems conceived in an ancestral sabbath.
Magie Noire is such an incredible fragrance that I don’t know what else to say. I have a bottle labeled ‘fresh’ that’s 17 years old, so the opening isn’t as dense as it used to be; it’s seen humid summers and heat stored away in its black box like a treasure. It’s the bottle in the photo, almost empty at 100ml, with only 15% left that has darkened and now hides that dark magic. In its prime, the opening was a cascade of 5,500 notes—refreshing, luminous, sweet, with the deep tone of the finest honey. Today, I spray it on a handkerchief three times and wait hours to smell it, because it’s in the dry-down where nothing changes and the true power resurfaces: deep, magnetic, unapologetic, with that wild yet tamed animal side, styled with an eighties flair, showing who Lancôme really was. I spend days sniffing the handkerchief, recovering lost memories of my childhood and youth; it opens the door to memory like only she can. This elixir gives me hope that someday perfumery will make things right again.
Spartacus, answering your question, the answer is no. The current one is not remotely similar to the vintage version. The bottle in the photo is the Eau de Parfum, and the small round bottle with a black base was the extract. Identical to the one in the photo, but it only took a drop behind each ear to leave a soft trail all day. Both smelled exactly the same, although the extract was more potent. Before this spray bottle, there was the clear glass round one, the Eau de Parfum before the spray. Personally, I preferred bottles without spray; just wetting the cap and touching the wrists was enough. Sprays decide the amount for you, and I don’t like that. The current rectangular bottle is a completely different cologne. If you smell one next to the other, you won’t find a single note in common. After 23 years of my life without using any fragrance other than Magie Noire, I can’t stand the new formulation. I hate it. It’s not Magie Noire.
Thanks, Spartacus. I keep as a treasure a third of an extract that’s almost 24 years old (a gift when my son was born), and the scent hasn’t changed much. That’s why I’ve been able to compare without a doubt with the new formulation. I also want to say that I don’t miss your reviews. I’ve been following you, LaDameDeNoir, Charlotinable, Casablanca77, and many others avidly in the shadows until I decided to register. I might not always share the perfume tastes of many, but I value your opinions enormously and always take them into account. It’s a great pleasure to be part of this community. Despite having used a perfume all my life, I’m incapable of detecting most of the notes mentioned in their composition, so I greatly admire those of you who are able to detect them even in perfumes you smell for the first time. I hope to learn a lot here. Regarding Magie Noire, it’s truly amazing what they’ve done with this reformulation. If you compare many other reformulations, there’s always something that reminds you of the original version, but with Magie Noire… I can’t think of what they took away and what they substituted it with. It was a full-blown perfumicide. To everyone who has only heard of the new formula, I recommend doing everything possible to get to know the original.
@nebulosa, I hope you find an old bottle in good condition. It might sound a bit theatrical what I’m about to say, but it’s so cruel that an aroma you associate with precious moments of your life, joys, and even disappointments—an aroma that is more than a smell, a reality that can almost be felt or embraced—suddenly ceases to exist…
Yes, they aren’t the same, not even close, especially since time has changed them, perhaps too much. It hurts not to smell it as it was, but it’s a perfume that, even if it’s just a memory of the previous one, I like to have a little of. It was a gift from my father who isn’t with me anymore after many years. As Spartacus said, for an odor that becomes part of us to leave us forever is a very painful loss.
I remember it; my mother used it in the 80s, and I did too. It was quite strong, like all perfumes from the seventies and eighties. I’d just like to have it back again just to remember those eighties of my adolescence.
Unfortunately, it’s a shadow of what it once was. Magie Noire, along with Chanel No. 19 and Opium, is one of those perfumes that should have been allowed to die before being reformulated into something strange. I have samples of both the current and old versions; they are entirely different worlds. Is what we have today bad? No, it’s a classic with vegetal hints, aldehydes, and an elegant air. But the original had so many nuances that were lost here. Where is that pot of herbs with a cauldron of perfumed vegetables? Where is the aged honey of the heart note? And that earthy, vegetal sweetness? Nothing survives in Black Magic. Before, it was the perfume of a witch, capable of casting a love spell or curing a fever. Now it’s a decent scent, a seventies-style aldehydic floral. There are no more witches, only perfumes like Loewe or Hermès Amazone: herbal, raw, soapy, but from a civilized interior perspective.
Since her eyes crossed with Jason’s, Medea knew her spirit would never know serenity again. She dedicated all her magical arts, learned from Circe, to the all-powerful elixir to help Jason obtain the Golden Fleece. That night, she went to the shop and handed over her entire self condensed into a bottle: MAGIE NOIRE. ‘Here I give you, my love, this liquid extracted from my heart so that nothing or no one can defeat you.’ The current version of that 1978 elixir has reached my hands. I don’t know what it smelled like when it launched, but this current version has personality, quality, and performance. They say it’s a Floral Chypre, and I don’t contradict them, though at times it seems like a Fougère Chypre and other times a Floral Fougère; its intensity is such. It’s a miracle that it’s still available with a scent so far from current tastes. Medea’s potion, poured over my arm, emerges into the world thick with aldehydes. It’s a seventies heritage that made its mark. As the Greek witch warned, the effect isn’t easy to appreciate. It’s a drastic perfume with bitter, wild, pungent, and sharp notes, like the dagger Medea used so often. I accompanied the witch to gather remedies in moonlight: cassia fruits for a deep, fruity wine essence; cassia bark evoking rough cinnamon; galbanum resin for a mysterious incense. The necromancer wanted her potion to carry flowers of neroli, rose, jasmine, and narcissus without losing strength. It carries cloves, myrrh resin, amber vapors, and the acrid tears of moss, civet, and algalia from her enamored heart, like dark omens. BLACK MAGIC conveys the resolute presence of perfumes of the past. It has a trail and longevity that surprise. When the initial aromas fade, a honeyed sweetness laden with nostalgia emerges languidly, reminding us that even Medea, with all her spells, couldn’t eternally hold her beloved’s love.
Magie Noire: Helps those who miss the old versions, even though I never knew them. With a 2017 bottle, it’s a very pleasant fragrance, a quite tamed chypre and nothing scandalous. I’d wear it daily: sober, distinguished, with the typical good longevity of Lancôme and a discreet trail. For my taste, a good buy. Greetings from Chile.
A wonderful perfume that transports me straight to high society in the 1920s. That blend of tones evokes the elegance of a well-dressed woman in a jewelry store. For me, it’s a supremely winter scent—it smells like December, expensive clothes, and gifts.
I used this in my youth; perhaps too dense for a young girl, but perfect for special occasions. I loved it, and now, decades later, I’m dying to smell it again; the old version was simply unbeatable.
I love this perfume; I discovered it in 1994 in the free shop returning from Montevideo to Buenos Aires. It’s truly magical. Whenever I wore it, people stopped, women and men asking me the name. Its longevity impacted me. In Argentina, it’s practically unavailable; it restocks every now and then. I went years without having it, keeping the little bottle with the last drops of its ‘magic’. Just over 3 years ago, I used it again. I agree with comments saying it’s not the same as before. I miss it; it reminds me of wonderful moments. Nevertheless, every time I get it, I buy it. It’s very particular; even if it’s not its best version, it keeps the ‘magic’. Its longevity and trail still produce intrigue. I still get asked its name when I wear it.
Good perfume, within the style I like: intense and elegant. It fell into my hands by chance and I kept it until it ran out; it was many years ago when there weren’t so many perfumes on the market, but I’ll always remember it.
Despite those who say it’s no longer the witch of old from Lancôme, today, 15 years later, it’s back on my arm. My goodness, a day of activities and 33 degrees, and I still perceive it, trail and performance just as I remember. I still feel the aroma the same, the memories arrive flawlessly. Great job keeping the soul of this Black Magic, it’s a 10, congratulations Lancôme.
Reviewing the reformulated version, unable to compare with the old one which I don’t know. Upon spraying, like with most vintages, it’s too much on my skin, I don’t like it at all, and I can’t identify the notes. But giving it a chance, after 30 minutes I already smell honey, neroli, and something that cuts the sweetness and masculinizes it, which seems to be cedar. After an hour, the iris root, incense, vetiver, and agarwood emerge; the latter always fixes impressively on me. To refined noses it might sound strange, but it smells identical to Givenchy Gentleman in my fixation, so it could be a nice alternative for men. I don’t love it; I expected something more complex. I repeat: I don’t know the original formula. It might be my pH, but I’ll keep using it to see if the chemistry improves or save it for when my skin matures. I don’t recommend blind buys; it’s vintage with all the letters. Edited after hours on the pulse: just as I read in English, someone said the dry-down is like Natura Seve’s bath oil (sweet almonds) and it’s true, now it’s actually rich, dry, dusty, and herbal; not that bomb of the first spray. It’s more bearable. Here it’s hot and that influences, so I’ll keep watching how it evolves. For evening or night it seems better, not in the heat because it can be overwhelming. Definitely not for sports.
Curiosity for Argentines: yesterday I was invited to the pool, and with wrinkled hands, I searched for lotion. I used a Dermaglo post-sun gel in an opaque green bottle with a pump. The scent left on my hands after two hours has a lot in common with my vintage Magie Noire (which isn’t like the current one), so that gives you an idea… In the dry-down, the vintage MN is different, but that gel has a lot of similarity.
It’s my next blind buy. Hoping I’ll like it…
I’m completely in love with this perfume. I have almost 100 fragrances and none surpasses it, which says it all. I can’t be objective because it’s unconditional love. It’s so intense and warm, so complex, dark, a bit masculine at the end, deeply spiced and honeyed in the base… I fall in love with myself when I smell it. On my skin, it lasts almost the whole day intact, and on clothes, several days. The trail is moderate, accompanying and marking presence without shouting or invading. Never better said: BLACK MAGIC. It has that vintage touch that fascinates me, that style I can’t find in current ones. That’s why I think it’s not suitable for blind buys.
I received a sample and just wanted to wash my wrist; it smells too old, like those scents grandmothers used, like Avon’s Timeless.
Unforgettable icon of the 70s and 80s (1978), elegant but not for daily wear. Back then, Opium triumphed for its spice and Magie Noire for its chypre: hot dust, lots of oakmoss, not necessarily bergamot, juniper, or labdanum. The boldest girls preferred Opium, the others Magie Noire. Defined as a witch perfume, erotic and exotic, it is above all herbaceous, dusty, warm, and sensual, with plenty of oakmoss. The scent of the bottle is intriguing and delicious, transporting you to a lost world. On the skin, it opens with herbaceous and vegetal notes (hence the name ‘enchanted potion’) followed by warm dusty touches, perhaps a light galbanum that gives shine to the dark tone and hyacinth. Then we move to the heart, with moments of beauty where pink and white flowers emerge. Over time, its erotic note appears: the animalic softened by honey is soft but attractive. An olfactory pleasure of another level; the base is soft and leaves real women. As it dries further, the civet becomes alive alongside the sweet base, without breaking the image of indolent dusty lust. Well, sure. But to my nose, the performance is discontinuous. It lacks the continuity of an N 5. It has a strange opening and gaps: intense moments followed by phases where it barely lives. In terms of gender, I prefer Fendi’s Exciting Woman. And Chamade by Guerlain, though more innocent and less mischievous. Whenever the sample is well-preserved… The vintage version is another world, but if you’re young and dare to step out of the norm, maybe you’ll accept the new Eau de Toilette. I recommend a low dose, or you’ll spray too much eroticism at work with unimaginable results.
What a shame how mediocrity destroys those little gems that were left. Today’s Magie Noire has nothing to do with the intense, seductive version from the 70s. It’s not a reformulation; it’s a skin change. To compare, imagine your favorite perfumes abandon Fragrantica and someone without culture logs in as them. The fans would spot it instantly, right? Others, who don’t follow closely, might think it changed style for life and carry on as if nothing happened, while new users only suspect the loss by digging into the archives. In this case, the imposter tries to mimic the original with limited resources, unlike abominations like Aura de Loewe or Byzance de Rochas. Luckily, thanks to my mom, I have a vintage bottle in top shape that I hope lasts years. The downside is I can’t use it as I want because I don’t want it to run out; it’s hard to find. The current version is just a decaf comfort (and that’s serious). It’s true we’ve advanced, but many wonders have been left for the older generation. As long as those few giants stand, even if only in museums, it’s worth taking a look so we don’t become sheep. Being a sheep is fine, but I worry about young people who end up empty and powerless. Maybe what they need is a diving suit to plunge into the depths.
After respectfully reading reviews from those who know the classic version, I must say I might be lucky not to be able to compare. In my opinion, it’s a fragrance that stands out; as an EDT, nowadays we’re sold EDPs that don’t even reach its heels. It came to me by chance; I’m a Lancôme fanatic and didn’t know about Magie Noir. I saw it online, looked up its composition, and didn’t hesitate. I felt a childish anxiety to discover this dark gem. I’m a 44-year-old woman, tired of paying for perfumes that, despite their merits, sometimes make me feel cheated because they disappear in an hour. Now I give myself permission to explore; here it was just one spray to know how it smelled and to welcome a new love to my collection. I wish other current EDTs had the longevity, performance, and complexity of this gem. I didn’t pay much: in Argentina, perfumes hover around $100, and some aren’t worth half that in quality. Since it’s not well-known by my generation, there are few available; upon receiving the first one, I bought another. I want this Magic to last more than 75 ml. Sorry to the noisy ones about the ‘blessed’ reformulations. I understand them; it happened to me with Hypnotic Poison EDP. I paid $100 for 100 ml, and after an hour, it’s as if it doesn’t exist. If anyone knows Hypnotic Poison EDP when it was that sensual, lasting potion, you’ll understand, just as I put myself in their shoes. Cheers.
I’ve had this gem since yesterday, a blind buy guided by reviews. Knowing it’s unusual and less mass-produced (even though reformulated), I let myself be led. Upon applying it, hallucination! The first thing I thought was, ‘This reminds me of Dandy Man,’ the perfume my grandfather adored. I checked Fragrantica and they share the same opening notes: oakmoss, spices, and orientals. After 10 minutes, it dries down and becomes floral, with sweet flowers and honey, without being musky or powdery. No single flower stands out (narcissus, jasmine, or ylang-ylang), but they are well-balanced. I sprayed it just once on my arm because on my neck, clothes, and hair, I had several drops of another famous, expensive perfume from recently, Black Opium. Oh, my God! One spray of Magie Noire left the other in the dust, being this an EDT. After 7 or 8 hours, it becomes darker, more animalic and incense-like; the flowers no longer dominate. After 12 hours, I can still perceive it. Perfumes don’t last long on me; usually a maximum of 7 or 8 hours (only Good Girl by CH surpasses this). That’s why I put them on clothes and hair. In short, I’m in love. It’s ideal for going out at night, in the cold, elegant dinners, and classy events. It’s very feminine but also unisex, depending on the personality. If you have a bold, seductive, and sensual character, it’s a vintage classic. It’s not common. I advise testing before buying. Projection: 10/10, Longevity: 10/10, Sillage: 10/10. P.S.: If this is the reformulated version, how was the original? Brutal.
A very representative green and earthy aroma of a green fragrance era like Chanel No. 19. I’m reminded of contemporaries like Amazone, Feaubourg by Hermès, and Cabochard. Warm and woody notes of galbanum and hyacinth are very marked, complemented by spices, moss, and lily root. It’s a floral accord that smells of earth and wood. Very warm, suggestive, elegant, green, fine, and calming in the evening. For noses that appreciate earthiness in perfumery and the vintage vibe, it’s beautiful, even though reformulations reduce potency and longevity. Enveloping green earth and floral.
A mysterious and sensual masterpiece, magic in a bottle. I have one from 17 years ago; at first, it smells animalic, then the current version settles in. On my skin, it lasts 12 hours; myrrh dominates, with sandalwood giving it a powdery touch, accented by green and spicy notes. Every skin changes it. It doesn’t have much sillage: I smell it all day, but others don’t notice it (2022 version). Maybe it’s my dry skin, but the longevity is impressive: it lingers on skin and clothes for days. It costs around $78 at Lancôme, a great price for such a fine fragrance. Both the old and new versions last a long time; as an EDT, it rivals many EDPs. I recommend it to lovers of incense, in the style of Opium. If I compare it, it’s like Opium but with honey, sweet and woody/spicy. The dry down is powdery, incense, and real sandalwood like vintage talc. Everything is harmonious, not overdone. It’s wearable year-round and for any elegant occasion, since it’s uncommon and only available online.
I don’t know why, but this perfume smells like money to me: ink and banknote paper. It’s better worn at night.
First, I apologize for what I’m about to say… It’s HORRIBLE; it doesn’t smell like moss, it smells like dampness. No perfume has ever made my head hurt and made me want to exfoliate my body. It’s absolutely not my style or taste.
My go-to fragrance for over 30 years. A very typical green, earthy scent from its era that remains relevant. To me, it smells like herbs with a potent spice; if applied heavily, it can be invasive. It smells expensive, nothing like the sweet, flashy perfumes of today. To me, it’s the scent of a well-dressed, wealthy woman. WARNING: many might find it grotesque and experience olfactory fatigue.
Honestly, the name and concept are super risky: ‘Black Magic’ in French. It has a mysterious, Oriental vibe, like One Thousand and One Nights. It’s a powerful, intense blend. For me, no single flower stands out; it’s more of a honeyed, incense-heavy mix (perhaps due to myrrh, amber, civet, musk, and some wood…?) and sandalwood? Haha. Basically, it smells like stepping into a well-perfumed Arab tent in the desert. I don’t find it overwhelming and think it’s a great success. But it’s an intense fragrance that you definitely need to test before spending money. It’s potent and gives presence. I think you need to be a ‘big woman’ and very confident for it not to clash with you. Best for night. Also, apply moderately because it has a strong trail and lasts. Over time, it loses the honeyed and floral aspects, leaving just that incense residue. Personally, it’s not for me, but as a vintage intensity fragrance from 1978 still sold everywhere, I approve of it.
For the authentic woman: the one who goes her own way without needing external support, the one who gets up with everything, the one with class and sobriety, the one who dreams in silence and isn’t afraid to start over; her presence and way of speaking captivate everyone.
After trying it on several family members, we confirmed it’s ideal for oily or well-hydrated skin. On dry skin, the earthy notes and incense dominate too much, creating an unpleasant ‘burnt earth’ sensation; plus, the scent remains sharp and potent, causing the fragrance to become muddled. Conversely, on oily skin, the fruity and floral notes shine, balancing the experience and revealing the true identity of the scent. I strongly advise against buying it blindly. For those who wear it well, it showcases a stunning genetics: extremely elegant, subtle, and sophisticated, despite its strength and projection.