Exciter76
Reviews
Filter & sort
Exciter76
1990s Doll Heads And Powder And Celeb Perfume Hearsay History
Originally reviewed on April 18, 2012:
I purchased this blindly, expecting something in essence to Givenchy's Organza Indecence or Cinnabar—thick spices with a little sweetness. Instead it begins with a heavy-handed floriental slap, typical of most 1980s florientals. The initial spray reminded me of Boucheron’s eponymous fragrance. I had had Boucheron already and I was anxious to be rid of it, so imagine my great frustration of having it back in my possession once again. I made an empty vow to myself never to buy blind again and handed this over to the House of the Grand Dame’s greatest admirer, my mother.
A year and many glowing reviews later I decided to steal a quick spritz for memory’s sake. I was disgusted upon initial wearing. I was ready to scrub this off as I did the first time I tried it. It was the Boucheron all over again! If I have learned anything from [Online Fragrance Communities] I have learned to wait out a perfume from beginning to end to see how it plays out on my skin and NOT to scrub anything off. The heady Boucheron scent bowed out gracefully to a creamy spiced vanilla with an infinite amount of staying power. I’m kind of sorry I was so hasty to give this one away.
Pleasant as it is I must be realistic with myself: I probably would not wear this one too often even if I had kept it. There is something waxy about it but it really is a nice one from the House of Liz. Not a fan of fruity florientals? Not to worry, this is strictly spicy vanillic florals with a sturdy base of sandalwood. As with all her perfumes, there’s great longevity, projection, and sillage. Of all her creations I would say I am most impressed with BP.
Update: Thanks to [Redacted User], I just had to get my hands on a vintage bottle of this. It is absolutely blissful! The cloying opening of the reformulation is dashed to bits, leaving the spiced vanilla to run this show. This is definitely the crowning jewel in the House of the Great Dame.
Following up on my doubts on October 1, 2023:
I did indeed order a vintage frosted bottle to test out. It was love without a waiting period. "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" smells like the 1990s, if I'm being blisteringly honest with myself. It didn't fall in line with many of its aqueous-like contemporaries, like "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique", "CK One (Eau de Toilette) | Calvin Klein", or "Tommy Girl | Tommy Hilfiger". There was nothing subtle about "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor", but it received permission from sister scents, like "Amarige (Eau de Toilette) | Givenchy" and "Trésor (1990) (Eau de Parfum) | Lancôme", to continue to be loud and proud. It also gave permission to its younger sisters "Hypnotic Poison (Eau de Toilette) | Dior" and others to keep singing loud enough for those in the back row to hear.
From my aged recollection, "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" might have been among the last celebrity perfumes to be associated with our mothers and not our daughters, if that makes any sense. Prior to JLo and Britney, when a celebrity perfume was mentioned I, as well as my friends, associated celebrity perfumes with older women. To clarify, established icons produced fragrances that were marketed for the more confident, established women and men in our personal lives. Us younger consumers were fed a steady diet of mass retailer body sprays and health food store body oils. A generational shift happened sometime at the turn of the 21th century. Now, when someone says, "celebrity perfume," our immediate thoughts turn to something marketed toward young people, regardless if that is true or not.
Back to "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor": she was dolls' heads and a vanillic powder. The comparison I was making between "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" and "Boucheron (1988) (Eau de Parfum) | Boucheron" was due to the gardenia they both share and my unrefined nose's reaction to it. It's not an obvious gardenia but it's there. I still enjoy it but I predicted I wouldn't wear it often, and I don't. But, when I wear it, I often ask why I don't more often.
I purchased this blindly, expecting something in essence to Givenchy's Organza Indecence or Cinnabar—thick spices with a little sweetness. Instead it begins with a heavy-handed floriental slap, typical of most 1980s florientals. The initial spray reminded me of Boucheron’s eponymous fragrance. I had had Boucheron already and I was anxious to be rid of it, so imagine my great frustration of having it back in my possession once again. I made an empty vow to myself never to buy blind again and handed this over to the House of the Grand Dame’s greatest admirer, my mother.
A year and many glowing reviews later I decided to steal a quick spritz for memory’s sake. I was disgusted upon initial wearing. I was ready to scrub this off as I did the first time I tried it. It was the Boucheron all over again! If I have learned anything from [Online Fragrance Communities] I have learned to wait out a perfume from beginning to end to see how it plays out on my skin and NOT to scrub anything off. The heady Boucheron scent bowed out gracefully to a creamy spiced vanilla with an infinite amount of staying power. I’m kind of sorry I was so hasty to give this one away.
Pleasant as it is I must be realistic with myself: I probably would not wear this one too often even if I had kept it. There is something waxy about it but it really is a nice one from the House of Liz. Not a fan of fruity florientals? Not to worry, this is strictly spicy vanillic florals with a sturdy base of sandalwood. As with all her perfumes, there’s great longevity, projection, and sillage. Of all her creations I would say I am most impressed with BP.
Update: Thanks to [Redacted User], I just had to get my hands on a vintage bottle of this. It is absolutely blissful! The cloying opening of the reformulation is dashed to bits, leaving the spiced vanilla to run this show. This is definitely the crowning jewel in the House of the Great Dame.
Following up on my doubts on October 1, 2023:
I did indeed order a vintage frosted bottle to test out. It was love without a waiting period. "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" smells like the 1990s, if I'm being blisteringly honest with myself. It didn't fall in line with many of its aqueous-like contemporaries, like "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique", "CK One (Eau de Toilette) | Calvin Klein", or "Tommy Girl | Tommy Hilfiger". There was nothing subtle about "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor", but it received permission from sister scents, like "Amarige (Eau de Toilette) | Givenchy" and "Trésor (1990) (Eau de Parfum) | Lancôme", to continue to be loud and proud. It also gave permission to its younger sisters "Hypnotic Poison (Eau de Toilette) | Dior" and others to keep singing loud enough for those in the back row to hear.
From my aged recollection, "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" might have been among the last celebrity perfumes to be associated with our mothers and not our daughters, if that makes any sense. Prior to JLo and Britney, when a celebrity perfume was mentioned I, as well as my friends, associated celebrity perfumes with older women. To clarify, established icons produced fragrances that were marketed for the more confident, established women and men in our personal lives. Us younger consumers were fed a steady diet of mass retailer body sprays and health food store body oils. A generational shift happened sometime at the turn of the 21th century. Now, when someone says, "celebrity perfume," our immediate thoughts turn to something marketed toward young people, regardless if that is true or not.
Back to "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor": she was dolls' heads and a vanillic powder. The comparison I was making between "Black Pearls (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Taylor" and "Boucheron (1988) (Eau de Parfum) | Boucheron" was due to the gardenia they both share and my unrefined nose's reaction to it. It's not an obvious gardenia but it's there. I still enjoy it but I predicted I wouldn't wear it often, and I don't. But, when I wear it, I often ask why I don't more often.
It's A Nice Day For A GOTH Wedding (To Paraphrase Billy Idol)
Originally reviewed on April 19, 2012:
Plums are very seductive fruits and they do not get any more sensuous than they do here in BOVdF. They are dark, opulent, and slyly sinister here. I am over the moon in love with Tom Ford’s misunderstood boozy villain. This villain in velvets also brings gardenias to woo its prey in the cloak of darkness. Its drydown is consistently dark and dense, with heady fruits and berries, spicy sandalwood, and loads of amber and patchouli. Compared to its older sibling, Black Orchid, this is a lighter, effervescent version but it’s still heavy hitter with a secret double life.
This is a dense cloak of a fragrance with sillage that announces, “The wearer has left the building.” It is certainly a fragrance with a bullhorn! Very much like anyone with a bullhorn, this fragrance is unconcerned with offending others, though it has the potential to do so. I know I’ll be wearing this the next time I go bar-hopping in Downtown L.A. BOVdF was made for upscale nightlife and devil-may-care urban adventures.
Updated (but not really) on September 26, 2023:
I sounded like such a blowhard in this review. This was my first Tom Ford fragrance so I thought I was on the cutting edge of fragrance. Still, I agree with 2012 Me's assessment, more or less.
My best friend talked me out of my bottle when he got married—he said it was the perfect goth wedding scent. I could not argue with that. This is the perfect goth wedding scent: larger-than-life funereal white gardenia, blackened fruits, and other witch's cauldron ingredients.
Giving him the bottle was the right thing to do but it didn't stop me from missing it terribly. I spent seven years hawking auction sites and Facebook for a reasonably priced bottle and vigilantly watching for viable swaps. (One such swap interaction: "No, I won't send you my "Parure | Guerlain" for your 1 oz. half bottle of "Black Orchid Voile de Fleur | Tom Ford".) I finally got my precious "Black Orchid Voile de Fleur | Tom Ford". No one is talking me out of my bottle a second time.
Plums are very seductive fruits and they do not get any more sensuous than they do here in BOVdF. They are dark, opulent, and slyly sinister here. I am over the moon in love with Tom Ford’s misunderstood boozy villain. This villain in velvets also brings gardenias to woo its prey in the cloak of darkness. Its drydown is consistently dark and dense, with heady fruits and berries, spicy sandalwood, and loads of amber and patchouli. Compared to its older sibling, Black Orchid, this is a lighter, effervescent version but it’s still heavy hitter with a secret double life.
This is a dense cloak of a fragrance with sillage that announces, “The wearer has left the building.” It is certainly a fragrance with a bullhorn! Very much like anyone with a bullhorn, this fragrance is unconcerned with offending others, though it has the potential to do so. I know I’ll be wearing this the next time I go bar-hopping in Downtown L.A. BOVdF was made for upscale nightlife and devil-may-care urban adventures.
Updated (but not really) on September 26, 2023:
I sounded like such a blowhard in this review. This was my first Tom Ford fragrance so I thought I was on the cutting edge of fragrance. Still, I agree with 2012 Me's assessment, more or less.
My best friend talked me out of my bottle when he got married—he said it was the perfect goth wedding scent. I could not argue with that. This is the perfect goth wedding scent: larger-than-life funereal white gardenia, blackened fruits, and other witch's cauldron ingredients.
Giving him the bottle was the right thing to do but it didn't stop me from missing it terribly. I spent seven years hawking auction sites and Facebook for a reasonably priced bottle and vigilantly watching for viable swaps. (One such swap interaction: "No, I won't send you my "Parure | Guerlain" for your 1 oz. half bottle of "Black Orchid Voile de Fleur | Tom Ford".) I finally got my precious "Black Orchid Voile de Fleur | Tom Ford". No one is talking me out of my bottle a second time.
2 Comments
Pedestrian Ginger Scent
Originally reviewed on May 4, 2012:
As summer approaches I have rekindled my borderline obsession with orange blossom scents. I followed some rabbit hole of reviews and came across Mambo. I was sold on the idea of this being a saltless rendition of LP’s Beachy. Even if it turned out to be nothing like Beachy I was still sold on the listed notes of mango, hibiscus, ginger and, mostly, orange blossom. The asking price was so ridiculously low for a 3.4oz bottle I could not resist snapping it up.
There is a strange, sharp soapiness, akin to Pure Grace or most anything in the Clean line. I have mentioned in other reviews my strange pleasure in soap-sniffing so this isn’t necessarily a bad thing but it is kind of unexpected given the listed notes. If this is a problem for some, it does pass quickly; if this soap element is what draws you in, prepare to be disappointed. It does not take long for this fragrance to show its true nature as a platform for freshly grated ginger. This is ginger and all else takes a backseat. Scratch that—everything else takes a ride in the trunk while ginger takes the wheel.
I quite like this ginger concoction as it does not give in to being too sweet or too cloying. I really like the ginger in EL’s Bali Dream but it falls prey to being too saccharine and pop fizzy as it gets cluttered by a clobbering orchid. Mambo does not fall into BD’s similar trap; it is wonderfully sweet and spicy enough without going overboard. I don’t get the mango or oranges; Mambo is far more floral than fruity. J.Lo and her celebrity sisters have cornered the market on over-the-top marmalades so I’m okay with this lack of fruits. It’s really refreshing to have an unapologetically persistent ginger in my collection.
Updated musings on September 26, 2023:
I sniffed this one recently. I remember really liking it but not being dazzled by it. Eventually, I gave my bottle to one of my nieces. It is the olfactory equivalent of a jeans/t-shirt/flip flops ensemble; it's comfortable and casual but it's not out to knock your socks off. I was intrigued by the zingy ginger in this back in 2012, and that zingy ginger is still good. I can't say anything negative about "Mambo (Eau de Parfum) | Curve / Liz Claiborne" but I can't give it an enthusiastic updated review because it's kind of dull to my nose.
As summer approaches I have rekindled my borderline obsession with orange blossom scents. I followed some rabbit hole of reviews and came across Mambo. I was sold on the idea of this being a saltless rendition of LP’s Beachy. Even if it turned out to be nothing like Beachy I was still sold on the listed notes of mango, hibiscus, ginger and, mostly, orange blossom. The asking price was so ridiculously low for a 3.4oz bottle I could not resist snapping it up.
There is a strange, sharp soapiness, akin to Pure Grace or most anything in the Clean line. I have mentioned in other reviews my strange pleasure in soap-sniffing so this isn’t necessarily a bad thing but it is kind of unexpected given the listed notes. If this is a problem for some, it does pass quickly; if this soap element is what draws you in, prepare to be disappointed. It does not take long for this fragrance to show its true nature as a platform for freshly grated ginger. This is ginger and all else takes a backseat. Scratch that—everything else takes a ride in the trunk while ginger takes the wheel.
I quite like this ginger concoction as it does not give in to being too sweet or too cloying. I really like the ginger in EL’s Bali Dream but it falls prey to being too saccharine and pop fizzy as it gets cluttered by a clobbering orchid. Mambo does not fall into BD’s similar trap; it is wonderfully sweet and spicy enough without going overboard. I don’t get the mango or oranges; Mambo is far more floral than fruity. J.Lo and her celebrity sisters have cornered the market on over-the-top marmalades so I’m okay with this lack of fruits. It’s really refreshing to have an unapologetically persistent ginger in my collection.
Updated musings on September 26, 2023:
I sniffed this one recently. I remember really liking it but not being dazzled by it. Eventually, I gave my bottle to one of my nieces. It is the olfactory equivalent of a jeans/t-shirt/flip flops ensemble; it's comfortable and casual but it's not out to knock your socks off. I was intrigued by the zingy ginger in this back in 2012, and that zingy ginger is still good. I can't say anything negative about "Mambo (Eau de Parfum) | Curve / Liz Claiborne" but I can't give it an enthusiastic updated review because it's kind of dull to my nose.
Claustrophobic 1990s Floral Musk That Runs Between Friendly And Combative
Originally reviewed on December 7, 2011:
Splendor and I have an odd relationship. I am an all-day-sucker for the sultry innocence that are white florals. However, Elizabeth Arden fragrances and I have a ‘frienemy’ kind of relationship: Red Door was my first love but 5th Avenue is a wretched, regurgitated mess of bad, bad flowers on my wrist. (2023 UPDATE: "5th Avenue (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Arden" and I have made amends and we get along fabulously, sometimes. I find "5th Avenue (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Arden" can be as claustrophobically cloying as "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden" at times.) Splendor straddles the fence between the casual flippancy of most late 1990s fragrances (the fruity floral aspect) and the romantic intensity of a late 1970s powerhouse (the floriental aspect). This sometimes translates to a duality of personality that I find I have to be in the right mindset with which to deal.
Today I was in the right mood and the right climate to handle this velvet steamroller. The first spray is the sharpest, blasting on with a pungent fleshy fruitiness that I am never fully prepared for. I am pretty certain I can blame the pineapple and sweet pea for this. It is also at this point that I wonder why I still keep this one around. Luckily, I have acquired patience as I’ve gotten older so I do not mind waiting out the fifteen minutes or so for the top notes to pop a Ritalin and calm down.
What I am eventually left with is a sweet cream concoction of bold white florals that were meant for the winter months. This is a white cashmere cardigan, one that is totally appropriate for winter wear, contrary to fashion standards which state, “No wearing white after Labor Day.” The heart packs a white floral wallop using spicy amber-flavored brass knuckles (think vintage Chloe-esque). The base smolders with a soft, subtly smoky musk that does not fall prey to the powderbomb trap of most 1980s fragrances; imagine the last few strains of musk that linger in Happy before it completely evaporates. It is for those elements that I continue to reach for this one.
The sillage is pitch-perfect—just enough ‘linger’ to make an impression but not gas out the masses—and the duration is impressive. Like all EA fragrances this should be used with a light hand. It is a thick and spicy white floral that should be used appropriately.
It's September 22, 2023 and...:
...nearly twelve years later I still have mixed feeling about "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden". I got rid of my original bottle, then found myself missing it and buying a 1 oz. replacement bottle years later. I still need to be in a particular mood and headspace to wear this because it easily annoys me with its loud white florals and massive 1990s style musk.
I must've been trying to describe amber musk when I described it as 'smoky' and 'smoldering,' as my perfume vocabulary was still pretty limited in 2011. It's not smoky, incense-like, fiery or anything else like that; it's a somewhat woody, ambery musk. And to clarify, it's the same musk found in most 1990s perfumes, one that is mostly clean and white. There is no skankiness to be found here.
I caught myself being contradictory in my review—I said it doesn't, "gas out the masses," then I said, "this should be used with a light hand." So which is it? It's a matter of preference. I find it loud. I can't do more than one spray without feeling claustrophobic. (See why I need to be in a certain mood to wear this?) "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden" is the person on public transit who looks around for an empty seat and chooses the one next to you, even when there are plenty of other seats. Depending on the day, that person is delightfully cheery, friendly, and well-mannered. Other days, they're unshowered, unfriendly, and obtrusive. When I wear this I know I roll the dice and take a gamble.
Splendor and I have an odd relationship. I am an all-day-sucker for the sultry innocence that are white florals. However, Elizabeth Arden fragrances and I have a ‘frienemy’ kind of relationship: Red Door was my first love but 5th Avenue is a wretched, regurgitated mess of bad, bad flowers on my wrist. (2023 UPDATE: "5th Avenue (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Arden" and I have made amends and we get along fabulously, sometimes. I find "5th Avenue (Eau de Parfum) | Elizabeth Arden" can be as claustrophobically cloying as "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden" at times.) Splendor straddles the fence between the casual flippancy of most late 1990s fragrances (the fruity floral aspect) and the romantic intensity of a late 1970s powerhouse (the floriental aspect). This sometimes translates to a duality of personality that I find I have to be in the right mindset with which to deal.
Today I was in the right mood and the right climate to handle this velvet steamroller. The first spray is the sharpest, blasting on with a pungent fleshy fruitiness that I am never fully prepared for. I am pretty certain I can blame the pineapple and sweet pea for this. It is also at this point that I wonder why I still keep this one around. Luckily, I have acquired patience as I’ve gotten older so I do not mind waiting out the fifteen minutes or so for the top notes to pop a Ritalin and calm down.
What I am eventually left with is a sweet cream concoction of bold white florals that were meant for the winter months. This is a white cashmere cardigan, one that is totally appropriate for winter wear, contrary to fashion standards which state, “No wearing white after Labor Day.” The heart packs a white floral wallop using spicy amber-flavored brass knuckles (think vintage Chloe-esque). The base smolders with a soft, subtly smoky musk that does not fall prey to the powderbomb trap of most 1980s fragrances; imagine the last few strains of musk that linger in Happy before it completely evaporates. It is for those elements that I continue to reach for this one.
The sillage is pitch-perfect—just enough ‘linger’ to make an impression but not gas out the masses—and the duration is impressive. Like all EA fragrances this should be used with a light hand. It is a thick and spicy white floral that should be used appropriately.
It's September 22, 2023 and...:
...nearly twelve years later I still have mixed feeling about "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden". I got rid of my original bottle, then found myself missing it and buying a 1 oz. replacement bottle years later. I still need to be in a particular mood and headspace to wear this because it easily annoys me with its loud white florals and massive 1990s style musk.
I must've been trying to describe amber musk when I described it as 'smoky' and 'smoldering,' as my perfume vocabulary was still pretty limited in 2011. It's not smoky, incense-like, fiery or anything else like that; it's a somewhat woody, ambery musk. And to clarify, it's the same musk found in most 1990s perfumes, one that is mostly clean and white. There is no skankiness to be found here.
I caught myself being contradictory in my review—I said it doesn't, "gas out the masses," then I said, "this should be used with a light hand." So which is it? It's a matter of preference. I find it loud. I can't do more than one spray without feeling claustrophobic. (See why I need to be in a certain mood to wear this?) "Splendor | Elizabeth Arden" is the person on public transit who looks around for an empty seat and chooses the one next to you, even when there are plenty of other seats. Depending on the day, that person is delightfully cheery, friendly, and well-mannered. Other days, they're unshowered, unfriendly, and obtrusive. When I wear this I know I roll the dice and take a gamble.
Heavy Metal Vixen On-Screen/Modern-Day Gibson Girl Off-Screen
Originally reviewed on May 12, 2009:
Innocence and roses go hand-in-hand. This is one bad-arse rose with a Harley and a leather jacket. It's what I imagine a fabled black rose to smell. Romance has an edge and it's very, very seductive.
The scent's longevity is impressive. The consistency of scent is amazing; if you love how it smells when it's first applied then you will be delighted to know that scent will stay with you all day. Of course, what I love most is how naughty I feel for simply wearing this fragrance, especially at work. I liken it to liquid burgundy lingerie.
Updated lamenting on September 22, 2023:
I have to remind myself that I began writing fragrance reviews in 2009. I'd written music reviews before 2009—I've even had some of those reviews published in actual newspapers—but perfume was new territory. With music I can convey a thought based on a mutual understanding that the reader knew of what song or musician I was speaking. With perfume, I had to try to convey what I was smelling and assume the reader hadn't smelled what I had smelled.
But who *hadn't* smelled "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" by 2009?
My review was based on the assumption the reader had been living under a rock and I was privy to some secret knowledge. What I didn't understand was that the reader likely knew what "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" smelled like but didn't know how I'd interpreted it. Isn't that what perfume reviews are? Not cold, hard facts nor a scientific journal entry but a subjective interpretation of what we perceive?
What do I perceive nowadays? My discontinued beloved reminds me of a 1980s heavy metal video vixen, writhing and sashaying her way through a video. But once the director yells, "Cut!" she grabs a cup of chamomile tea, reads Agatha Christie, and remains largely chaste in both her mannerisms and lifestyle. She's gorgeous and she knows she has the goods to pay the bills without much effort. However, don't confuse her on-screen persona for her off-screen reality.
Some reviewers mention some ethereal Gibson girl when describing "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney". I don't quite get that, even if that's what Stella McCartney's brief asked for. "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" looks like she has a long list of lovers and a vast number of notches on her bed post, but she's discriminating and mostly chaste. She loves all kinds of heavy metal, leather, concerts, motorcycles, bad boys from afar—all the trappings of a so-called 'bad girl'. She's also very well-read, most discriminating, and probably comes from old money. You just can't pigeonhole this gal.
Personally, I enjoy wearing this in the summer during concert season. This is my rock & roll go-to perfume. I don't know who will accompany me to concerts once I'm out. Damned discontinuation!
Innocence and roses go hand-in-hand. This is one bad-arse rose with a Harley and a leather jacket. It's what I imagine a fabled black rose to smell. Romance has an edge and it's very, very seductive.
The scent's longevity is impressive. The consistency of scent is amazing; if you love how it smells when it's first applied then you will be delighted to know that scent will stay with you all day. Of course, what I love most is how naughty I feel for simply wearing this fragrance, especially at work. I liken it to liquid burgundy lingerie.
Updated lamenting on September 22, 2023:
I have to remind myself that I began writing fragrance reviews in 2009. I'd written music reviews before 2009—I've even had some of those reviews published in actual newspapers—but perfume was new territory. With music I can convey a thought based on a mutual understanding that the reader knew of what song or musician I was speaking. With perfume, I had to try to convey what I was smelling and assume the reader hadn't smelled what I had smelled.
But who *hadn't* smelled "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" by 2009?
My review was based on the assumption the reader had been living under a rock and I was privy to some secret knowledge. What I didn't understand was that the reader likely knew what "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" smelled like but didn't know how I'd interpreted it. Isn't that what perfume reviews are? Not cold, hard facts nor a scientific journal entry but a subjective interpretation of what we perceive?
What do I perceive nowadays? My discontinued beloved reminds me of a 1980s heavy metal video vixen, writhing and sashaying her way through a video. But once the director yells, "Cut!" she grabs a cup of chamomile tea, reads Agatha Christie, and remains largely chaste in both her mannerisms and lifestyle. She's gorgeous and she knows she has the goods to pay the bills without much effort. However, don't confuse her on-screen persona for her off-screen reality.
Some reviewers mention some ethereal Gibson girl when describing "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney". I don't quite get that, even if that's what Stella McCartney's brief asked for. "Stella (Eau de Parfum) | Stella McCartney" looks like she has a long list of lovers and a vast number of notches on her bed post, but she's discriminating and mostly chaste. She loves all kinds of heavy metal, leather, concerts, motorcycles, bad boys from afar—all the trappings of a so-called 'bad girl'. She's also very well-read, most discriminating, and probably comes from old money. You just can't pigeonhole this gal.
Personally, I enjoy wearing this in the summer during concert season. This is my rock & roll go-to perfume. I don't know who will accompany me to concerts once I'm out. Damned discontinuation!
2 Comments
