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Not even having often read it about it prepares you for the initial menthylated vapour rub. When you smell it you remember that Lutens thinks Genet is a great writer, and how wrong he is to think that - like Genet, it's punishingly overstated and has less to say than you would think from all the fuss it makes. The odour of incinerated alkie takes a long while to die back. You keep hoping something sweeter will come of it, like good out of a wasted life, and, with great reluctance, like most addicts, it slowly blossoms but the menthol barracuda is always there just beneath the surface lush. It’s more an Aesop’s fable than a scent, it dies down very mild and sweet as if ideally rehabilitated. Notes: tuberose, orange blossom, hyacinth, jasmine, musk, vanilla, styrax, nutmeg, clove – which only goes to show how little ‘notes’ tell a lay-person because nothing in that list would lead you to guess remotely what the opening is like.
01st July, 2008