If I were a teenage girl, I would wear Dior Addict Purple Glow.
In fact, I am going to wear it anyway.
But imagine being cute and new; all dolled up and clean, and then, just before leaving your bedroom spritzing on a sugar high sweetness of perfectly proportioned (I had forgotten that Francis Kurkdijan was working at Dior – his effortless perfectionism is all over this) delectable trip of Tuscan iris, candied violets and perhaps the best raspberry note I have ever smelled over a delicately chalky, meringue-y vanilla sealed with a kiss.
I think I probably could / ( will:I might have to get me a bottle) pull this off in the right, sly circumstances ), but imagine how a lip-glossed beaut could melt the Love Hearts with this, drifting into a club or party at the height of her confidence …
Yes, I admit that this type of gourmand – Dior calls it gourmet, which I prefer- has been done / attempted many times before, and do be careful if you are diabetic – but the way in which the summer trifleish framboises continue to float through the other notes is sina qua non here. This is the end of the line.
Is this, in fact ,the way brands should deal with ‘heritage’ names in order to extend their commercial appeal to younger generations ?I personally never liked Addict, though I (kind of) tried to. The name annoyed me (give me Opium instead – maybe Dior Meth would have been more exciting); I found it crude, flat; tactless.
This perfume, though, has nothing to do olfactively with that whored out balsamic, but is a new, vivacious creation entirely all of its own. It lives anew.
Could L’Heure Bleue not have gone a similar route ?