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I should know by now : never, never, ever order a sample of anything which Luca Turin has given five (or four) stars while mentioning sex somewhere in his review. Not unless you are interested in his psychobiography, that is. Others have noted how quickly its chill and bracing top-notes are overcome by smoky malted musk. In my case, it takes 10 seconds, and that counts as premature ejaculation in my book. The body of the scent is a waxen cistus, with hints of rancid butter, odd, spooky and not quite sickening. Actually, it has the head-turning, queasy-stomach effect of amyl nitrate thrust on you by someone you didn’t really fancy in the first place and have now gone Right Off. But most of all, this is the smell of CB I Hate Perfume’s M#3 November – pumpkin pie. Of course, calling it S-ex was a good idea, it got all the perfumistas whirring away, but S-plat or S-quidge would have been nearer the mark.
14 April, 2009