Has a soft, powdery opening -- powdery, yet dry. The ginger is of the spice jar variety rather than freshly-cut root. The scent is subtle. The alleged "pumpkin flesh" note is, in my opinion, misleading. I don't get a rather earthy, fleshy, pulpy note at all -- nor do I get pumpkin pie (which one might expect). It is a distinctive note, and not familiar (whatever it is). The floral notes are so muted that I did not detect them -- and normally rose and heliotrope have a distinctive profile. The scent settles into a light ginger-musk, with a faint trace of grassy vetiver. I didn't find it to be compelling, and in fact after a while I got tired of it and washed it off. Not a wretched scent, and not offensive. Just didn't interest me.
My first impression of Like This was 'a pancake stack with all the fixings covered in potpourri,' but in a good way. My second was 'richly scented candle,' which would normally bother me but it does not in this instance. There is a strange effect in play here, whereby the body of this scent feels at once buttery and saturated as well as dry and crisp. And, instead of the floral parts retreating from the opening on they seem to emerge, like burning one of those novelty candles with coins and other objects inside. It's funny but it really smells golden, and I can't help but wonder if this is a psychologically associative symptom born from reading the notes pyramid. What really wins me over here is the beautiful interplay of the ginger and heliotrope. This is as lovely and curious a fragrance as the woman whose name it bears.
"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