Proceed with caution– One light spritz gets you powder and cute plastic toys and baby hair–sweet with innocent violets and melting ice cream–all day long. Two full sprays gets you a spanking by sticky artificial vanillin, itchy rubber pants, and a bath.
I adore this sweet little tune, off a children’s album by the same guy who did Lump and Peaches–
This one is gorgeous: beeswax comb filled with vanilla and flower nectar and a bit of tonka that manages to come across as animalic, and so incredibly sweet you expect it to be sticky on the skin. The heliotrope–which I’ve not been a fan of lately–gives nice structure to the benzoin, and a lovely powder dryness to the honey-syrup.
There’s a brilliant smudge of labdanum on the bottom, a perfect hint of beekeeper’s smoke. Fills the room like a summer swarm and lasts forever.
I loved it passionately until the guy said it reminds him of that scented toilet paper from the ’70’s and now that’s all I smell and I’m so sad about it.
Opens with a breath of citrus and wet green, but then gets cool and clear the way that all the Omnias do, this time with powdery iris that blooms for a hour, and heliotrope at the bottom that lasts all morning.
Some faint woods close to the skin give it a pretty solidity, like a crystal vase with a heavy base.
There’s an interesting fragile-but-strong vibe to it.
Love Mimosa is almost sporty in its freshness out of the bottle–but the orris gives it a nice luxe creaminess that keeps it from being overtly chemical. Loud at the start, then settles down to arms length sunny florals and laundry softener for most of the day.
This one bridges the gap between Lolita Lempicka L’Eau en Blanc and the original first scent, but somehow loses the vibrancy of both parents.
Pretty mixed-up berries in the beginning that eventually decide they’re black currants, then aniseed hits with the usual LL violet-iris notes before it settles in close with pleasant white musk and sandalwood powder.
It’s pretty, in a girl’s First Perfume kind of way–
Opens with spring floral orchard blooms, then fades to a powdery, almost childish cherry. Lasts the length of a junior high date, with cinema seat projection.
There’s nothing really special about it–Outremer’s Cola has that marvelous splashy pop, and Pêche is pure sass and juice–so I was expecting a kick of something more.
A blast of sweet powder out of the bottle, with a bit of white flower–what I imagine vanilla orchids smell like.
Then marzipan–the strong stuff that reminds you of cherry stones and the secret hole-in-the-wall bakery with the amazing almond danishes.
It morphs back to powder an hour later, with huge sillage that lasts forever.
The Cookies backed up Little Eva and Ray Charles, but had several hits of their own, including this one.