Our little girl smells faintly of flea drops and raw silk, but I get it.
Demeter Kitten Fur opens with new cat carrier plastics, and a metallic cage clang that is soon overtaken by musky vanilla lactones that should not be smelled up close–like back away from that with your tail puffed up–except that it’s sort of interesting in a weirdly cute way. Lasts at least two hours, and finishes with powdery Cashmere Mist on the skin.
Not for me, but I understand the appeal. I’d love to see a Zoologist version of this–some civet or black currant bud would give it claws.
Demeter Fragrance Library’s Riding Crop is not the stuff of Bluegrass tack shops, with clean virgin hide goods and polished silver bits, nor of stables full of equine sweat and clover hay.
This unisex cologne is a quick trip to the sex shop. Tops with leather and latex, changes position with high end water-base lube and a hint of drying spice–cardamom, perhaps–and bottoms with pleasant musk and a post-coital smoke.
Fun. Doesn’t last long, and stains the clothes a bit.
Lots of folks have covered this Velvet Underground song, but The Kills’ acoustic cover turns it intimate and consensual.
Tomato by Demeter is every urban gardening hipster chick sunbathing topless on the roof. Stray honeysuckle and dandelion weeds are overtaken by crushed tomato leaves and the great red globes ripening on the vine. A smudge of pollution and sweat and dirt sticks to the skin, but doesn’t stop the invasive Organic Goddess green. I’d worship her in the summer.
Forget what you think about “cheap” perfumes and buy the big bottle–it makes a wonderful room spray, too.
Willie Nelson and Cyndi Lauper singing a Gershwin duet is my favorite thing today.