Cotton-candy vodka out of the bottle that settles to Choward’s guava mints–and lasts longer than most top notes usually do, even longer than it takes for the candies to melt on the tongue (though it’s hard not to crunch them)–then eases to light flowers in personal space that slowly fade to wood musk on the skin.
I keep trying Euphoria, because it’s made with so many things I love–pomegranate, passionfruit, patchouli and violet, mahogany–but they’re all swallowed up by the amber and musk in a way that sours my throat.
I liked the candle in the store, but at home it haunted my house and made me edgy.
Sweet Euphoria is the one song on Chris Cornell’s solo album Euphoria Morning (Mourning) that I’ve never really enjoyed. Pillow of Your Bones is better:
Cedar and neroli with some floral and a touch of amber. Clean and fashionable, but nothing memorable.
For marketing with such amazingly feminine women, it’s kind of unisex–which is apropos to the clothing brand, no one can strip a girl of her curves better than Calvin Klein–so I guess it works?