by Issey Miyake, 1998

It’s a fire alright, right outta Hell!  This has been characterized as an odd floral-spicy scent, roses & hot milk, according to some. I put it on and immediately thought, “OFF! OFF! GET IT OFF ME NOW!!!” Roses & milk & spices MY ASS! This is roses & boxwood & baby barf. The roses I’m sure of, the boxwood is my best guess at an indelible strong spicy-woody-vileness accord, one that reminds me to those nasty bottles of predator urine (bobcat, wolf, fox, etc.) you can buy at fancy garden centres to sprinkle around your vegetable plot and scare away the little bunnies from eating your lettuces. The baby barf is the closest to the purported “milky” note, but if it’s milk, it’s waaaay beyond rotten, and not even cheese yet, just a bile-laced bad-breath sour-rotten nightmare that clings needily to skin. I don’t get it at all, why is there a following for this discontinued dumpster juice (Heaven help us! there’s a “Light” version still available)?!

I diligently tried to scrub it off after enduring close to an hour of wear, just to be fair and check for development into something tolerable. Was it worth it? Let’s just say this was possibly the biggest sacrifice I’ve ever made in the name of Fairness.

After scrubbing three times with different detergents and soaps, IT’S STILL THERE! I may have to amputate…