Quote:
Originally Posted by
CompassRose 
I vote Cinnabar, or Alien. I would also like to note that I've been simply panting for your review of Obsession; if anyone can dispel the slightly sordid associations I have with that stretch-velvet covered fist of a perfume, it's you, and your storied reviews.
Apologies CompassRose I've been experiencing some hiccups of a technical (not seasonal) nature - this review should have appeared ages ago - but didn't, so here it is... but I don't think it will help...
Calvin Klein Obsession
Normally when reviewing a perfume I call to mind places I've been to or times I lived through, experiences I've had, emotions I've felt.
I have to tell you that, thankfully, I have never been anywhere lived through anything, experienced any sensation or felt any emotion that fully equates to Obsession.
And I never want to.
This rancorous confection explodes into a room like cheap drugstore oriental pot pouri spilling forth from it's cellophane gift wrap. Suddenly everywhere's synthetic spices and dried up false flower petals all competing for their share of the olafactory action.
And there's no getting the stuff back in the bag.
But no, it's worse than that.
The opening is like the awful admixture of cheap air freshner and the sickly sweet smell of the vomit of a child who's been stuffed with too much candy. The smell that the stupid deodorizer was trying to cover up in the first place but has just made ten times worse by it's own hideous presence.
Oh no. I've just remembered. This does remind me of somewhere.
An AirEgypt flight back to London from Luxor at some unearthly hour. No in flight entertainment barring a juddering, 1980s VHS that desecrated the beauties of this magnificent country with its luridly coloured cheap camera shots and harsh jangling soundtrack turned up way too loud. It is playing again and again on a loop, every twenty six minutes the hell begins afresh.
We are just getting over the mandatory on board fumigation courtesy of our none to courteous cabin crew when... whoosh, a plume of projectile vomit errupts form the small child just in front. The boy I had seen eating nougat throughout our four hour delay in the cramped, sweaty departure lounge.
It sprays down the aisle and lands with a wet thud on the threadbare carpet and then sits there, glaring at us, challenging us to take it on.
After an initial flurry the stewardesses decide that their manicured hands are no match for this freshly minted monster. They elect to delicately, most ladylike, lay paper towels over the offending excretion and ignore it.
Well not quite ignore it. After some rattling in the galley and much conversation a massive ancient cannister, the size of a small fire extinguisher emerges and the hostesses pull the trigger.
Pssht. Its vile gas is immersed into the sealed container in which we are now held hostage to these olafactory terrorists.
The first time this happens I am nearly sick. I distract myself by trying to pick out the notes of the gas from those of the juvenile puke.
Spices, anonyomus and cloying, sweetness, something akin to regurgitated nougat, assorted over-ripe fruits.
It's like a cut price, dayglo, distant cousin to Tabu; produced in great vats and forgotten about in dusty corners until occasions like this arise...
Pssht. Here we go again, each time the noxious chemical odour subsides out come our faithful crew to fumigate us up once more.
Approximately every 18 minutes.
For the next five hours.
When we land, everyone stands before we are allowed, basically before we've touched down, cabin fever has set in. A scramble for luggage and then when the door opens a surge, almost as forceful as the semi-digested fluid from the unfortunate youngster's mouth. We have to be released.
In the airport and all the way home I can't get something of that stench off of me, even after showering and a night sleep something horrible in every way a sickly secretion.
So, thank you Obsession.
You have 'helped' me unearth a memory so painful, so vile that I'd buried it so deep enough to never have to remember it again.
Now, Obsession, all I want to do is forget you.
***
Note: this is the EdP that is retailing in the UK at discount stores and at ludicrously cut prices at some drugstore chains.
I can't comment on vintage or other formulations.
And this is a very, very personal opinion. I had to go to three branches of the store as the others had sold out of their star buy. Either obsessives are stocking up or there are going to be some very unhappy faces and noses on Christmas morning.
I could describe the notes in more detail but why waste my energy, everything dissolves into an entirely unwholesome mush just about immediately.
As for silage, way too long, like recurrent nausea.
++++++
- - - Updated - - -Quote:
Originally Posted by
CompassRose 
I vote Cinnabar, or Alien. I would also like to note that I've been simply panting for your review of Obsession; if anyone can dispel the slightly sordid associations I have with that stretch-velvet covered fist of a perfume, it's you, and your storied reviews.
- - - Updated - - -
It's just 30 after 1 (hey it is the Holidays). London. The lines are closed.
The final public vote of 2012.
Today, 22nd December 2012, I will be wearing:
Cartier Must de Cartier
What will I wear tomorrow? Choose from the following 10...
Dolce&Gabbana D&G Light Blue
Prada Prada (Amber)
Estée Lauder Azuree Pure
Estée Lauder Cinnabar
Pierre Balmain Balmain de Balmain
Dior Midnight Poison
Lalique Lalique Le Parfum
Thierry Mugler Alien
Estée Lauder Aliage
Or the newcomer...
Estée Lauder Private Collection
Remember all previous votes count towards a fragrance's running total and every participant gets a new vote every day!
You have just under twenty four hours... starting now.
Today's review of
CoSTUME NATIONAL Scent Intense
will follow in around and about 12 hours... or so...