"Another superficial product utilising shallow celebrity-based marketing strategies" crossed my mind when I applied it to my skin. And I was very pleasantly surprised by the delightful opening blast, with its orangey-herbal opening, a bit of pumpin added, and a well-integrated ginger note interwoven in the whole of the top notes. Unlike in some scents where the ginger clearly dominates - Creed's Tabarôme Millesimé comes to mind - here the ginger is not an olfactoric soloist, but more of a team player.
The drydown turns floral, and it is really an immortelle drydown, although a discrete neroli adds brightness to it. Then later, unlike many other scents whose best parts are usually the top notes, 'Like This' remains convincingly impressive by serving up a lovely vetiver note. It has an earthy touch, but it is not all earthy smokiness like in the 'Fat Electrician'; it is quite a balanced vetiver, albeit more on the earthy than on the fresh side of the vetiver spectrum. Add in a pleasant white musk and the base it a delight too.
The performance is brilliant with moderate sillage, excellent projection and a stupendous longevity of fifteen hours on my skin - wow!
A very nice scent for spring days, this is well blended and a top performer. 3.75/5
Like This put a smile on my face at the first sniff. I tested it three times. It is rather a compelling and well made perfume with an interesting opening of sweet but fresh hesperidic accord of pumpkin-carrot. It morphs into a quirky herbaceous gourmand with a comforting dry down. It is not sirupy but it does have a sweetness to it. LT lasts for more or less 8 hours on my skin and its projection is above average. It is cheerful and gourmand and a wonderful perfume overall. Alas I found it a bit overpowering in its uniqueness. I was very close to purchasing 100ml when I thought that I would get tired of smelling that strikingly. So although LT is wonderful it is not that easy to wear, or rather it is not my kind of perfume. Still, if you come across it, do try it! As for the connection to Tilda Swinton ... just forget about it.
For me, Tilda Swinton Like This by Etat Libre d'Orange began as a fantasy and ended in disappointment. Before sniffing the award winning EDP, I had high expectations, especially after reading the positive reviews.
During my childhood, the Christmas holiday was spent in a typical family crowd infused with various pleasant and not so pleasant smells. I remember cigarette smoke, alcohol drenched exhales, a tower of cookies, grandma’s lasagna, fart, and holiday-themed scented candles. The candles were typically placed in the restroom next to the floral hand soap. I remember how the fragrance from the candles would fill the entire house and intermingle with the stale ash trays and food. After a couple of hours, the candles would become overbearing, almost nauseating—being stuffed full of sausage bread and squid didn’t help the situation. A visit to the restroom was an intense olfactory event composed of “pumpkin pie” and “spring meadow”.
Those visits to the restroom were Like This: great idea; poor execution. 2.5/5
A slow burn, this perfume. I’ve had a sample of it for a year, and despite many tests, it’s only recently that Like This has truly gelled for me. A “meh” to “yeah” progression, I guess. Although I smelled everything I was supposed to – the pumpkin, the ginger, the tangerines, the immortelle, the whiskey - the lines between the notes in Like This always seemed blurred and fuzzy, like everything melted down into a big pot of pumpkin soup.
Then I realized two things. First, that there is a sort of charm to having all the notes gleam in an orange and gold register. It's a deliberate choice, not a mistake. The soft ochres and burnt siennas of the notes are there to provide a tight, muted symphony of voices all in the same range rather than to feature the depths and heights of a full Wagnerian opera.
Confining the perfume to such a limited palette forces it to find the common threads and unite them. I think that the unifying thread in Like This, underneath the samey sludge of orange-ochre-gold tonalities, is a dry sort of sweetness. Ginger root is both hot and sweet, pumpkin is both waxy-starchy and vegetally sweet, tangerines are citrusy and sweet, whiskey is smoky and sweet, and immortelle is salty and sweet. Like This is a blanket knitted from the sweetness of these orange notes, leaving the secondary characteristics to bubble up underneath.
So now when I wear Like This, my mind is at last able to peel back the thick, sweet orange wool and make out the shapes and movements of things below: burned toffee, a smoky, peaty Scottish whiskey, the gentle curried warmth of immortelle, maple syrup, hot ginger root, woody cinnamon bark, and a pleasantly waxy lipstick note (or vintage cosmetic powder). It’s like letting your eyes adjust to pitch black and then seeing everything slowly take shape through the gloom.
You know where else I went wrong with Like This, originally? I made the mistake of trying to make the scent fit the face of Tilda Swinton. It wasn't even Etat Libre d'Orange's fault, as I am usually the first to completely ignore their background concepts and focus on the scent. I admit that I looked at the Face, and the Face was Tilda Swinton, and from that moment on, I had a fixed idea in my mind of what Like This would smell like. It would smell exciting, bold, and unconventional, I decided, with a sly dash of wit, just like Tilda Swinton herself. It would smell like something with complicated domestic arrangements and feminism and dogs and children underfoot.
But Like This doesn't contain any of this drama. It is warm, sunny, and somewhat uncomplicated. I struggled to understand how someone as, well, different as Tilda Swinton could ever put her name to something so homely. Furthermore, I had come to Like This through Rossy de Palma (Eau de Protection), whose metallic blood-rose-ginger sharpness was an almost perfect psychic match to the odd, lustful, passionate, and uncompromising characters that the real Rossy de Palma plays in Pedro Almodovar’s films.
But I now understand that for all of her non-conforming, unconventional way of living, Tilda Swinton is probably much like the rest of us: when tired from travel, all we want is home – the people we love (whoever they may be), our children, cats and dogs, and our own bed.
I’m happy wearing this now, pottering around the house with the children on a Saturday morning, dressed in pajamas and with absolutely no intention of putting on normal clothes until the school run on Monday morning. The minute I gave up any idea of Like This being strange or dramatic or fierce was the minute I started to enjoy it for its own sake. I still think it smells a bit like curried pumpkin soup, but I’m ok with that, because as my kids will tell you, mothers should always smell a little bit like soup anyway.
Finally a good Etat Libre d’Orange under my nose. The opening is beautiful, lively, pleasant and solid: a sugary heart, orange-neroli zesty head notes, quite sweet but not “gourmand”; a rather natural, and slightly boozy kind of tart-sweet (think of Frapin’s Passion Boisée) with resins, honey, also tobacco to me, which overall kind of reminds me of a sort of child nephew of Fumerie Turque; less tobacco, more woody and more sweet – “less cigars and more candies”, shortly. Bright spices (ginger) melt with the citrus-woody accord. Finally, initially I get only a hint of immortelle, which however quickly takes the main stage and becomes the prominent note, with its peculiar earthy-boozy-floral personality, quite rich and “dirty” here – and other immortelle-based scents come to mind. What I really enjoy here is the citrus-floral silky breeze which provides a touch of grace and colour, a thin crystalline breezy-sweet accord which blends well with woods (a restrained, clean, yet slightly “dark” vetiver) to create a “spring”, joyful frame to the earthy smokiness of immortelle. I think the contrast between smoky-earthy, spicy-zesty and floral-sweet notes is perfect here, graceful and restrained enough to smell perfectly solid and utterly pleasant to wear; it kind of quotes and alludes to several other scents, blending them in something new and unique – from mainstream fruity-floral scents (like J’adore, just the first that came to mind) to spicy-citrus/neroli ones (Fendi Theorema) to the quite unrelated realm of earthy-tobacco-immortelle fragrances, from Histoires de Parfums 1740 to Huitième Art Fareb or Lutens’ Fumerie Turque. Not saying it is similar to any of these in particular; rather that like in a “collage” painting, it kind of takes bits and echoes of them, juxtaposing them here to create something new. Like a portrait made with bits of other portraits. On the drydown, though, one of those scents becomes more than an “echo” and comes quite more closer – Fendi Theorema (for women), mostly for the same interplay among citrus-orange notes and spices-woods. Other names and “quotes” aside, is a really well-made scent: it’s bright, pleasant, playful yet shady and smoky, tamed down enough to be safe and versatile, effortlessly elegant and velvety. Nice!