“There she goes, the independent woman. The girl who’s so contemporary – she’s having too much fun to marry”
“Nothing like the past”
proclaims a soap opera husk, concluding this clunky and hilariously gauche late 70’s TV ad for this perfume as a blowsy discolette sprays her legs up and down with Yves Saint Laurent’s Rive Gauche:
“…the rightperfume from the left bank of Paris…..”
Which is funny, because I always in fact associated this legendary smell, this legendary perfume, with tights – that musky smell of stockings coming off at the end of the working day; the holy grail, perhaps, of a (not so) secret foot fetishist like Quentin Tarantino.
Not that there’s anything remotely unsavoury about Rive Gauche: quite the opposite – it is beautiful and delectably charismatic. But its flirtatious, polished exterior conceals a very animal sexuality deep down in the mix; a…
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The Black Narcissus 