I put a spot of Coco parfum on my wrist and a good 4-5 hours later it is still vividly haunting. After initial wafts of funky citrus, orange blossom hypnotically dominates the other florals. Soon enough they blend and are given a kick by cinnamon and angelica. Coco has a sultry (rather than stanky) take-no-prisoners base, that allows the scent's self-assured loveliness to linger for hours. What a perfume! It’s like being presented with a floral bouquet by a lover, a highly potent act—dining, wining, music and whispered endearments being in the same category. The courting male knows more about female biology than most medical researchers. That's because he’s carrying around that 300-1000 ng/dl of testosterone at all times, which means he has no need of inducements to think about sex. However, over millennia he has observed that females (with only 15-70 ng/dl of testosterone) are usually much less interested in coupling than he. But turn the female mind to the subject, via what we’ve come to call “romance,” and voila! A meeting of bodies is much more likely. Why fresh flowers turn women to mush I don’t know. I am personally defenseless against them, which my husband has discovered to our local florist’s delight. To me it seems an illogical response. Smelling Coco feels like those times he returns with a bouquet of flowers after a rare big tiff. Though we both know what he’s doing, darn it, it’s going to work! Coco is just as irresistible, a triumph of reliable seduction—not of the bald sex variety, like Schiaparelli's Shocking, but of romance.