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When I was a teenager, the idea of wearing perfume seemed ridiculous; only bimbos and old ladies would spritz themselves down with “embalming fluid”. I was too busy wearing black, listening to counter culture music (whatever that is), and pretending to not care. Needless to say, I never wore any of the classic fragrances from the late 80s/ mid 90s. Recently, I purchased a bottle of designer juice at the local small town drug store, and hoped for the best. Wow. Obsession is a first-rate production, complete with an eclectic cast of characters. The opening is abrasive with an icky soapy-green burst that makes one wonder why Obsession is classified as a spicy oriental. On the skin, it begins to unfold chaotically, leaving a trace of (almost off-putting) powder. Next, a cute and fuzzy animalic note (civet) politely says hello, instead of throwing a Bal a Versailles middle finger. Slowly, the green-forest-creature-powder begins to expose amber and spices and after about 30 minutes the premise that this is not a spicy oriental turns on its head. This is the spicy oriental. Incense, vanilla, sandalwood, and spices are now the main actors, while the rest of the cast quietly scampers on and off the stage as supporting characters.
22 July, 2012