Juliette Has A Gun’s Moscow Mule is the perfect mirror of the cocktail, down to the copper cup.
The first sip is a citrus twist, followed by big swallows of sparkling ginger ale. A wooden muddler mixes in clear vodka musk, until only the metal mug remains, a brassy mineral aftertaste.
A good happy hour scent.
Fresh and fun and fashionable–a mermaid in spangled spandex and designer seashells.
Wet flowers bloom strong, then ease into sugary herbs, water mint and those funny green lake apples that float on the surface in the summer. A bit later salt cascades into the sweet, the sharp edges of the crystals biting like ocean water.
I liked the insert enough to look for it in the store–it fades fast. A pick me up rather than a long wear, but the lack of white musk is refreshing.
Nice. A perfect Valentine’s scent.
Big overripe strawberry and milk chocolate that melts away as the rose blooms.
The rose softens to oud, sitting close, then turns to water on the skin.
It’s addictive, the I-want-more of cake, too easy to reapply until one has a stomach ache.
I’d save up for it, if it lasted longer.
This one, like Envy, has a double nature–
On a good day, Light Blue smells like sweet lemonade and apples, roses and cedar, and finishes with cool musk.
On an off day, it can smell like old shoes and lemon oil disinfectant.
Oddly unalluring for such a popular fragrance–though sweet and fresh, there’s no come-hither, smell-me-closer-tiny-dancer to it anywhere. The projection is a pretty shield around the body, encouraging a step backward–respect for personal space, rather than an invitation inside.
This one opens with a ’70’s record scratch of thorny green rose then settles into a good long roll in the hay while listening to Joni Mitchell albums–but then the pepper leaves you itchy, and you’re vaguely aware that a cat has peed nearby.
Dark Saphir opens with a bomb siren of green violet and spices, then grows louder with industrial roses–they’ve been stripped of innocence and turned neon blue, fluorescent sillage at arms length that doesn’t settle down.
An hour later the blitz is still on, metallic flowers and galvanized seltzer rain. Eventually it cools to a clean patchi-oudish clear-coat that lasts all night.
Complicated and tense–one to wear when sporting thorns.
Artificial raspberries and vanilla in the most nostalgic way.
This is like getting pulled back in time, listening to Aerosmith while coloring a school poster with a Mr. Sketch scented marker–the fuchsia one.
We thought we were cool, drinking French vanilla powdered cappuccinos and sneaking sprays of our mother’s Hypnotic Poison before the dance.