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The haughty Lauder ladies club countenance is swiftly discarded to display a distinctly wanton side. Cinnabar may well be the couture wearing executive from the top floor, but she is not averse to being pressed against a filing cabinet and manhandled by some clammy-handed salesman.
Cinnabar takes a little time to slip the tether of the opening,but its classical seventies construction is certainly no chore to endure. With its clipped aldehydes and antique grade bergamot notes, it’s a high horse formality it quickly climbs down from. The conventional and indeed expected opening is supplanted by a world weariness, subtle cynicism and desire to be much more approachable. Latterly,Cinnabar is allowed to cascade into an accessible, perhaps simplistic, soft, buttery cinnamon experience.
JHL, the male counterpart from Aramis is more anally retentive, and when I want the same sartorial formality, but with the odd casual flourish, Cinnabar is a viable alternative.
22 September, 2011