Clementines and waxy white flowers and vetiver–but sadly dry, not a tongue-crazy kiss on the Eiffel Tower at all.
I’d love this as a linen spray on chaste nights, a goodnight sweetness rather than un baiser amoureux.
A cute little song sung by the former first lady of France–
Cake and lemon sorbet syrup–and waxy sweet flowers that are probably poisonous to cats–hover a foot off the skin for an hour, then settle to sour fruity sugar.
I like it, but aside from the jasmine-scented pancake make-up note, I get no sense of Japanese theater.
A Swedish jazz group mash up with traditional Hogaku instruments.
I get dolls heads, when they break down and become sticky, flowery vanilla and non-dairy creamer.
There’s a naughty age-inappropriate edge to it–the nursery nanny in the push-up bra–but it doesn’t do more than flirt for a while.
The blackest richest dirt, and polished exotic coffin woods, vanilla sweet flowers to cover the scent of death—-but then it lingers for a while at a distance, ethereal with a breath of incense ash and mystery.
My not-so-inner goth-girl finds this utterly lovely.
How sweet is this song?!
A great one for sweet tooth cravings.
TokyoMilk #10 is a spilled pot of syrupy tea with cream, smoky jasmine and sugared violets.
Sandalwood at the bottom gives the honey a nice bit of bee-sting.
Pretty and warm, with good sillage and amazing longevity.
Santana and Michelle Branch came out with this sweet song in 2003, too.
If you could garnish a drink with a twist of rose peel, it would smell like this.
Nice on the skin, but fades too quickly; I prefer a stronger cocktail.