I don't buy for a second that this is just labdanum. As a previous review said, it has a lot of cashmeran, this being the dominant note for me. It's a thin and piercing synthetic smell, like everything from this house, probably using the cheapest possible ingredients (and why not). As Bisch creations go it's on the wearable side, although I agree with the aforementioned reviewer that it gets annoying, because it's completely linear and lacks any sort of hook or charm. Not really a perfume, more like one of the molecule scents (05 Cashmeran to be specific but less repulsive).

Attaquer le Soleil creeps up on you. There’s something unsettling about it: an enigmatic, gothic atmosphere that’s both threatening and enticing, and it keeps me coming back for more. I saw someone else describe it as “liminal,” which feels accurate: imagine a disquieting dream in which you’re about to discover something secret and dangerous. The dark, coniferous woody opening transports me to an aristocratic alpine chalet enclosed by black trees. I wake alone at night. Called by some obscure premonition of pleasure, I venture out to explore the cold, candlelit hallway, walls panelled in polished ebony, until I come upon a dim study—a cabinet of curiosities stuffed with leatherbound books, strange insects encased in amber, and exotic devices of unknown purpose. Open on the desk is a massive antique volume with gilt edges, not meant for my eyes. Is it obscene pornography, an occult spell book, or a diary of monstrous crimes? My nose fills with the intoxicating fragrance of resinous incense as the fear mounts, undercut with a faint, powdery bitterness (camphor?). Do I hear footsteps in the hall? I try to peer closer at the forbidden book, catching a glimpse of illustrations of twisted bodies, but someone (or something) is drawing closer. I turn...and wake up. (All this is perhaps more seductive than it sounds.) Curiously, the only listed note for this fragrance is labdanum—supposedly it was a challenge that perfumer Quentin Bisch set for himself to make something focusing solely on a note/material that he dislikes. I don’t have a detailed sense of what labdanum is supposed to smell like, other than it’s a sweet, musky resin often used in incense—I associate it with CDG's trademark clean-incense base (as used in CDG Original, Blackpepper, and many others), which I sometimes find soapy or powdery. I’m sure there are a lot of things going on in Attaquer le Soleil other than pure cistus resin, but I really like how it seems to pull out so many different facets of the material: it’s a little smoky and woody, a little bit clean and powdery, a little bit musky and animalic (it smells very embodied, like skin), very resinous in a sweet, enveloping way, but cold and slightly bitter at the same time. It’s this interplay that keeps me sniffing myself over and over! Some people have written that this is too wearable for a Sadean perfume, but I find that there is something vaguely perverse about it, though it doesn't at all veer into smells that are overtly off-putting. It's a really excellent winter fragrance, especially for lovers of woody, leathery incense scents, or anyone who wants a non-churchy incense (it's definitely unholy). Incidentally, I first tried this right before trying Apoteker Tepe’s The Holy Mountain, and they have a lot of similarities: they’re both coniferously woody on first sniff before easing into an incense-heavy amber finish. The latter initially made a bigger impression—it’s showier, with a massive smoky opening and a glorious golden drydown—but Attaquer le Soleil has really grown on me. It's subtly dark and weird in a very addictive (but not overpowering) way that's led it to become one my most-worn cold-weather scents, quickly becoming an overall favourite. Moderate projection and good longevity, fwiw.