What is that smell?
It reminds her of something.
Somewhere on her travels?
At first she thinks it’s a spry Parisian tarte au citron.
She recalls that opening burst of freshly squeezed Sicilian citrus, the sheer exhilaration on the tastebuds.
The pairing of sharpness with a subtle wood baked puff pastry. A light dusting of icing sugar lifting the whole to the status of a truly sublime pie.
She inhales again and it’s gone.
Instead of citron by way of cloying lemon curd and soft underdone meringue, in short minutes, the aroma is turned first to sunken souffle then gee-wizz generic ceramic and enamel miracle clean creme.
Sadly and all too swiftly, lacklustre lemon bathroom foam has displaced delectable desert.
Florals so unspecific that they are undeserving of names fly by.
Soon everything settles down to a silly sweetness that smells more of good sanitation than fine fragrance.
The overall effect is strangely, suffocatingly comforting. An exercise in apparent inoffensiveness.
Then she is, on an instant, able to place the smell precisely.
It’s sort of classy…
Just like a well kept water closet in a just short of luxury hotel she stayed in once.
Exactly like that in fact.
To compose a scent so completely of a single note is an act of bravery, or in the case of D&G Light Blue something that seems more akin to bloody-minded bravado.
The best minimalist perfumes, like the music and the architecture of the same name, deceive with their hidden complexities and depth.
They modulate where they appear not to change. Have acres of back story and back stairs behind false walls.
Structurally they are engineered to perfection.
That is this scent’s failing:
It lacks both the complexity required to retain our interest and the structural supports to sustain the first high, clear note that is all it ever had to say.
These key components missing nothing remains but gradual dissipation, dilapidation and mostly disappointment.
Ultimately everything falls away to the very edge of being merely functional fragrance.
More suited to ladies and gents conveniences than the folks themselves I’m afraid.
The Perfumed Dandy.