Marvelous retro ’60’s incense rose that starts out loud and aldehyde-soapy out of the bottle, then gets animalic–but it’s a purring kitty, rather than a hissing one–a few feet off the wrist, accompanied by a sneezing fit or two. After several hours the blooms fade to a lovely woody benzoin on the skin for the rest of the day.

Recommended to anyone who enjoys the classy pin-up mystique of Rive Gauche and Climat, and to cats–mine found the civet intriguing.