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Iíve never read another review of Love in Black, so Iím sorry if Iím repeating what others have said. I saw a bottle of this in a shop and just had to try. The bottle is that matte black that people spend thousands of dollars on to paint their AMG Mercedes a sort of urban camo so that they wonít be seen wasting their 500+ horsepower in gridlock in LA traffic. This color on expensive cars is an example of the strained symbolism of contemporary demonstrations of wealth that reads like an overbred poodle. Itís so particular, so focused, so self-conscious. The desired message (ďIím hip/fashion forward/a trendsetterÖĒ) gets lost in the actual communication (ďIím so effete that if you could see inside these blacked-out windows youíd see me fussing with my pocket square and cuff links.Ē)
But who cares about the bottle? Itís clearly an iris perfume, but thereís something off-kilter about the angles of iris that are emphasized. The papery and bread-like aspects of iris root are there, but they smell stale and sour. The fascinating bit isnít the notes, though. Itís the progression. After 10 minutes of topnotes, I couldnít smell a thing. Itís as if I could Ďfeelí with my nose that the perfume was still on my skin, but I literally couldnít smell it. Did I go nose-tired that quickly, or is it the composition? I thought this was the briefest perfume in history, then oddly, another 30 minutes later, I sniffed again and found a lingering but noticeable sweet scent like inky bubblegum.
Stale bread wrapped in moist paper. Then silent running. Then bubble gum. Was this commissioned by Etat Libre? Not my thing, but pretty god damned clever.
30th November, 2012