A good bossy stewardess perfume.
Matter-of-fact grapefruit and grinning roses and brisk musk, but not inviting or invasive.
Starched silk suits on top, sir-take-your-seat-please on the bottom.
Dunja’s strumming technique makes me blush–
A good bossy stewardess perfume.
Matter-of-fact grapefruit and grinning roses and brisk musk, but not inviting or invasive.
Starched silk suits on top, sir-take-your-seat-please on the bottom.
Dunja’s strumming technique makes me blush–
Citrus and rosy jasmine, and a resinous fruit note that makes me think of dried apricots. Some patchy musk, too.
Magazine stickies aren’t the best judge by any means, but there’s nothing unique here that bumps it up my try-out-of-the-bottle list.
This redux is way more intense.
This could be this decade’s Drakkar Noir–a new definition of masculinity for these semi-enlightened times. Sophisticated and clever–strength and ego coming with style and smarts rather than brawn–this man might not have the classic pretty face but his shirt is nicely tailored and he plays cards well–he’s interesting.
Opens with icy lemonade, then smoky ginger, and lays two inches above the skin with amber, mint and sandalwood all evening long.
I wish it had more sweetness.
Lemon and orange blossoms and neroli and tangerines.
Ylang-ylang softens the citrus and spice warms it up a bit.
I’d have thought Kristen Stewart would smell less sweetly floral than this, but there’s a certain sandalwood androgyny at the bottom that fits her mystique.