Tilda Swinton’s first signature opens with more sugar than I expected–candied orange peel, neroli and honey and pumpkin spice. The immortelle (my mum called it “everlasting”) brings an enjoyable sweet yellow curry and wildflower note–but then I got a hay-fever reaction and had to scrub between sneezes.
Pair with a pretty autumn scarf and antihistamines.
A funeral in the rain.
Wet ashes and limes, rose thorns, black pepper, black umbrellas and dirt.
Over in two hours.
Rather elegant, actually.
Smoky neroli that dissipates into sweet iris, then completely disappears. An elegant one-hour-stand, but I don’t remember her name.
*(sigh)*
“Les Fleurs du Dechet” sounds so much prettier, but…
I Am Trash is found object art, a lovely re-purposing of unwanted scraps into elegance.
The opening is shocking–orange rind and a vodka note of fermenting potato parings, but then apple peel quickly takes over and blooms into bruised rose petals, and it’s suddenly gorgeous.
The flowers stay for an hour or two at arm’s length, then fade into a sweet woodsy musk that lingers comfortingly on second hand sleeves all afternoon.
I love the cleverness of it.
All I get from this is dried peaches in a plastic bag. Maybe a whiff of the incense aisle at the other end of the food co-op.
And it lasts as long as the 10-items-or-less line.
I’ve seen Encens et Bubblegum compared to Gorilla Perfume’s Tank Battle (from LUSH).
Nope.
This stuff is a stale sugarless dime ball from a reproduction piggy-bank next to Tank Battle’s fresh packet of Big League Chew. This is clove cigarette ash likened to Satya Sai Baba Nag Champa.
Twice the price, half the sillage and none of the longevity.
Doesn’t compare at all.
