Anna Sui "Sui Love"

I've actually worn this a few times and been totally unable to write a review. Usually I multitask: go shopping, go to work, read a book, whatever -- I just jot notes down on a scrap of paper and keep sniffing my arm like a lunatic, and by the end of the day I've got something to say. But "Sui Love" is an ever-changing jumble of so many different things, it's hard to pull out any specifics unless I sit down and actually focus on what's happening on my skin. So, with the help of "Beauty and the Geek 2", I finally sat still long enough to get through it.

At the start, there's a sweet, fruity incense over some sort of herbal mix. Cleanly smoky, it has an edge on it for the first five minutes before calming down to a nice thrum. This would have been a great scent to bridge the work/date divide (such as those weird times when a guy asks you to lunch and you can't tell if it's an actual date date or just convenience because you work in the same area, and you don't want to wear a very sexy scent because if it's casual he'll get all twitchy, but if it's a date date you want to be wearing something different than what you wear everyda... Uh, not that I think about this a lot. Ahem.)

But it turns out none of that matters, because only about fifteen minutes in, the entire thing goes all watery celery-and-pepper on me. There's a sweetness in there, but it's more like the natural sugar of the celery rather than a candy-sweetness. Reminded me a bit of the Malle "Therese" because of that very unexpected peppery tone, but the Ormonde layer was there too. Lurking.

And then there's the final stage of "Sui Love", which is totally weird, because this is when the Ormonde note suddenly becomes the dominant (and only) pitch. This note's not even an identifiable scent, really -- it's a warmth, like something mulling against your skin. I know you usually mull cider or wine with spices, but this isn't a spicy or smoky smell. All I can think of is a stemmy flower, like an iris. Take that iris and leave it in a vase for days on end: at some point, the iris will hit a turning point where it's stopped smelling fragrant and has just begun to die ever so slightly, almost creating a hint of heat as the flower begins to turn on itself. Okay, now somehow imagine mulling that scent of dying flower against your skin. It's definitely a weird thought, but it also an element I detect in almost every Ormonde I try. I'm sure there's something very lyrical I could say here about the beauty of burying a hint of overripeness or death in perfume, but I think I've been wordy enough for what is, in the end, a lackluster effort.

Verdict: Only worth it from the 5-15 minute mark; both before and after that, it's been done better.