Cherry vanilla ice cream, artificially flavored and freezer burnt, and awesome.
Opens with a room filling puff of mimosa and ylang-ylang, but with just enough herbal citrus to keep from slipping into banana peel territory.
Fifteen minutes later and the heliotrope takes over with powdery synthetic almonds, musk and vanilla, worthy of a Lolita Lempicka flanker if it were faceted rather than creamy.
Melts to the skin after three hours, and stays there with dusty soft-serve woods through the evening.
Cheap and chic but sweet and nostalgia inducing, like a slow club remix of a favorite song.
Dimond Saints do some amazing mixes.