I quite like this.
But then I suppose I would.
I love (and hate, actually) the name, for a start – so imposing, so absorbed and self-centred and aware; gutsy, forthright and on the ball (and when you know that we are talking about a busty, ribald Piguet Fracas-ish affair – but less coutured, less of that ilk, more vulgar, if more vivid and contemporary – you see how this Tunisian neroli and Egyptian jasmined modern and urban furnished apartment take on the self confident tuberose could quite nicely work, taking in self-consciously the ideas of me me me me; I will stamp myself upon you when I meet you at the party because for once I don’t smell like strawberry chemicals and bullshit, I have a bit of sass, and some pizazz, and smell quite sexy and nice)………………
But what is the name of the perfume you are wearing?
” KISS MY NAME”.