Opens one orange peel shy of cleaning solvent, but soon melts into drippy tangerine popsicle, complete with wooden stick.
Fun, in a cheerful after-gym-frosty-dessert kind of way.
Lasts two hours just above the skin, then dries down to laundry.
*
This Real song is also fun and sweet-
(I love TJMaxx flanker gift sets!)
This is the most refined of the Be Delicious line that I’ve sniffed so far.
A slice of fresh apple, soft flowers and a bit of plum sauce, that quickly go green with lily-of-the-valley for an hour–the usual DKNY floral fruit teacher’s fare.
Later when the woods give the base some backbone, it gets sophisticated–turns out the substitute has a master’s degree in postmodern design.
Lasts through afternoon study hall in personal space.
*
Another Golden that’s delicious.
Purple flowers made of glass.
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.
*
This caught my morning mood.
Starts juicy with sweet orange and neroli, then gets a little rosy before lying down with clean woodsy white musk. Lasts close to the skin for the morning.
It’s nice, but sadly not weird or innovative at all. I want more from the master of surrealism–give me swans reflecting elephants, or burning giraffes, or something cool.
***
“Love is surreal…”
(This is the best song off this album.)
A Shirley temple cocktail nastied up with añejo tequila.
Grenadine and white flowers, orange peel and wooden casks.
It could almost be an Angel flanker–sweet and sour with a dirty bottom.
Not a big blast radius, but the fallout lingers a while.
Another sassy bomb–a cheerfully horrific Clash tune that hits with even more impact when sung by the Mexican punk band Tijuana No!.
Manly herbaceous man who fashionably needs to shave goes on a date, and he cleans up rather nice in his vanilla dress shirt.
Lavender and good manners on top, apple wood and patchouli on the bottom.
Still not over it.
I am not man enough to wear New Sibet.
This dude lives in a cedar log cabin with a wood burning stove and scary dead animals, fresh enough that they still smell like fur and musk, on the wall. He’s unforgettable, and orris-root-sweet when you get to know him, but way too alpha-male for me.
Red Hot Chili Peppers are wild like that.
Safe citrus and berry splash with flowers–nice dry woodsy peony, in a clean and non-alluring way–but it’s loud. Big invasive sillage that takes over the clothes, like when you switch fabric softeners and can’t get used to the new smell, but even longer lasting.
This one feels like an afterthought, as if it were put out for bottle collectors.
Neon Hitch is also loud and kind of invasive, but is absolutely alluring and by no means an afterthought.
Unisex, because air has no gender, and water is aromantic.
The ambroxan shifts back and forth between cedar, amber and lemon all day long.
Icy clean, yet interesting.
This one would be a lovely cool splash in the summer, but sharp as knives in the winter.
Some more Air:
Soapy with creamy magnolia flowers and ubiquitous church congregation white musk.
A little headache inducing, but the brief driftwood note is kind of interesting.
Eric Clapton and John Meyer covering J.J. Coles’s Magnolia–
