Shrill kiwi slices on top a white cupcake iced with white chocolate, decorated with some white flowers.
Lasts long after the party is over, ending with woody vanilla and birthday candle wax (that may be a feature of my solid scent rather than the spray) and musk.
Cardamom bombs the opening, the same throat closing assault when entering any truck stop store outside Paris, Appalachia–menthol cigarette ash and candy bars–but then it slowly melts into the skin with tobacco and vanilla a la Tom Ford.
Not many people realize Tom Waits actually wrote this one–also harsh and mellow.
(I’m falling in love with these solid perfumes. Airplane friendly and moisturizing!)
Zazou–surprisingly, given the twee packaging–is a sophisticated little neroli limeade spiked with aqvavit.
It opens fresh, a zing of citrus as it warms up on the skin, then relaxes and turns floral with an herbal undercurrent.
Sits just above the skin for hours until sinking under into warm green woods.
The Zazou subculture in France most likely took their name from Cab Calloway’s scat riff “Zaz, zuh, zah!”
So Lolita Lempicka ran off and joined a coven, and came back organic and amazing.
Sugary licorice and lemonade top notes that last for hours, resin and burnt caramel all night long. Bonfire dancing, bohemian patchouli flirting and aniseed incantations at midnight. Wakes in the morning still smelling of fairy sin on the skin.
Brash, pansexual and gorgeous.
The solid is tamed down–the gateway drug version–more secretive, the sweetness hiding in leather. I love it no less.