"Here," the nattily-dressed salesman said, shoving four samples into my hand. "Quick, put them in your bag, I'm not meant to give you that much! This isn't even my zone!"Ah, the danger and intrigue of the Oxford Street fragrance departments.
Of course, now I've got a ludicrous amount of "Still" I've found that it smells of nothing more than soap. Nice soap, but soap. As though I've taken a shower, then scraped my nail along the top of a moist white bar and rubbed the residue on my wrists and collarbone. Soap made up of white florals, maybe, but... That's it for four hours. Then a spicy/citrus whisper right against the skin that is so absolutely faint it might as well be a hallucination. Then... poof. Gone.
The bottle's easier to wax on about: the back's got this nifty refracting thing going on, so it looks faceted from the front. But then there's also a ridiculous plastic ring with a huge "diamond" settled around the atomiser! Now, this isn't an inexpensive perfume, so why on earth they'd spend the time and money making the really nice old-Hollywoodish bottle and then chuck a Crackerjack ring on the top, I've no idea. You can remove it, thank goodness, but... To what? Wear shoddy plastic imitation J. Lo "bling"? Silly marketing move there.
Verdict: Soapy fragrance with bizarrely contradictory packaging.
