Iso E Super is just another synthetic aroma chemical, no more or less evil than the lot of them. Like most chemicals, it gets misused, but it is also used very nicely. A clumsier treatment can be found in Bleu de Chanel, where the material smells like olfactory overkill in a high-strung woody amber. Cartier's Déclaration is a vastly better fragrance that uses the stuff for a typical "buzzy" wood effect, which elevates the prominence of other notes in its composition instead of filling in for them. What's the difference in quality here between these two fragrances? It's splitting hairs, but BdC relies heavily on that "buzzy" sheer wood effect to act as a note (it depends on Iso E Super), whereas Déclaration benefits by using Iso E Super as a bit player in an otherwise independent composition that could work quite well without it. Jean-Claude Ellena seemed to feel that the material added a useful degree of texture and depth to woody and spicy accords, and I think he was right.
Nathalie Lorson must have harbored a unique philosophy about this approach when Encre Noire was composed. One thing that is obvious about this Lalique scent is that the perfumer recognized the cog-like purpose of Iso E Super, and mated it to several dry, saturnine woody notes.
Yet unlike other scents in the same vein, Encre Noire's composition reverses the paradigm by allowing the chemicals that resemble "natural" materials (vetiver, cypress, black pepper, cashmere wood, birch tar) to complement Iso E Super. Under most circumstances this probably would not work very well, but going "whole hog" with the dark and smoky angle is what makes it smell so appealing. Its full-bore dryness is reminiscent of Arden's Sandalwood for Men, minus the lavender and patchouli, and with vetiver and "precious woods," which is really just Cashmeran, dialed up to the max.
The Iso E Super pushes through these dour notes like moonlight through tree branches, and the "buzz" is quite welcome for a change. Its transparent energy lifts and swirls the hyper-masculine pyramid through a gamut of inkiness, leatheriness, and even a decidedly agnostic incense note, and guess what? It smells great. Despite being relatively cheap, Lalique's vetiver-themed fragrance comes in a lovely bottle (we would expect nothing less), its contents akin to the papery rootiness of Guerlain Vetiver, the clean woodiness of Terre d'Hermès, the shadowy starkness of Chanel Sycamore, and the sheer radiance of Malle's Vetiver Extraordinaire. I've read questions asking where to find the best contemporary vetiver. To me, this is a top contender for that title. It draws on the seriousness of the old-school, but imparts a casual, sophisticated air, thanks to an enduring tension between traditional woody-chypre elements and contemporary synthetics.