Like the over-baked but enjoyable crap I watched on Netflix yesterday ( ‘Nonnas’: what, Susan Sarandon seventy eight ?!! – look at hah !) this everything in the sink beach perfume – coconut, sunscreen, tiare, The Waves, a small tub of salt, is perfectly agreeable and yet not. I actually laughed out loud this afternoon , on the first Proper Hot Day, in the Ginza, at the zebra crossing, at the thought of Helen somehow wrongly spraying on two squirts of it