To my nose, Kate Spade TWIRL is deeply and multidimensionally redundant. That's because it was drawn from the vast vat of Elizabeth Arden juice containing "such notes" as the marketers wish to claim in their jingles and blurbs. Ultra "abstract" fruity-floral fragrances one and all, there's as much cause for saying that they contain enriched uranium as "such notes as pink watermelon, blackberry and red currant, orange blossom, star jasmine, tiare flower and magnolia, glittering musk and French cookies (Macaroon)."
Some people, obviously of hearty constitution, are able to wear these compositions well and even enjoy their squeaky shampoo quality and blob-like expansive sillage. I, however, having apparently been cursed with ultra-sensitive nerve endings, tend to find these synthetic EA soups somewhat annoying and at best banal. In the worst cases, they expand into major scrubbers over the course of a wear. What good are great longevity and huge sillage, if they make you feel like Alex in "A Clockwork Orange" as Beethoven's Ninth is pumped into his flat? I ask most sincerely.
Alas, TWIRL falls just over the "must scrub" line, as evidenced by the fact that I have no intention whatsoever of finishing even this small sample vial. Enjoy it, if you can. I'm afraid I'll have to pass.