Burnt Clutch and Nitromethane

My favourite quotes from Perfumes: The A-Z Guide written by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez

~ Reminds me of the lethally huge toddler in Spirited Away.
~ "modern" (industry-speak for dull).
~ As charming as a cement lot.
~ Exceptionally repulsive.
~ Someday it may smell fresh again.
~ Drags on like an interminable Sunday afternoon tea at Aunt Mabel's.
~ Almost vulgar enough to be interesting but ultimately too crude to work properly.
~ A sort of wearable limoncello.
~ Precarious equilibria.
~ Emancipated fragrances.
~ A dreadful hiss like cheap speakers.
~ Dim-witted sport fragrance.
~ Banal reformulation.
~ Hideously screechy.
~ Should have been banned by the Geneva Convention.
~ Appallingly successful.
~ Can it, by all means.
~ Like a glass of white wine that's been sitting out all night.
~ Disturbingly buttery.
~ Gleefully overstuffed.
~ Only hard work and dedication can produce something as derivative and uninteresting as this.
~ Ghastly little squeaky-clean stunted floral.
~ Radiates like nuclear waste.
~ Whines like a dentists drill and hurts almost as much.
~ Fruit-flavoured liquid antibiotic.
~ Useful as a contraceptive, but little else.
~ Dish washing detergent.
~ Nightmarishly prolific.
~ A sad wistful odour like baby's breath.
~ Like low-grade tea with milk in a roadside diner.
~ Grievous yawn.
~ Like catching the tail end of a cymbal sound.
~ Bland artificial warmth.
~ Appealing and repulsive in exact balance,  but not very interesting.
~ Expensively pointless.
~ Peculiarly and distinctly urinous with a curdled-milk smell.
~ For tightfisted sugar daddies.
~ Breaks my heart and makes me despair of capitalism.
~ Cynical travesty of the real thing.
~ I look forward to it being discontinued.
~ The French are known for their wry humour.
~ It feels like sweet pea after a nasty accident followed by reconstructive surgery.
~ Sounds like a conclusion to a funeral eulogy.
~ Done with a gas chromatograph badly in need of calibration.
~ A headache force field.
~ Unpleasant glory.
~ Reminiscent of the little girl in The Exorcist shouting in a deep male voice.
~ Fascinatingly bad.
~ Cough-syrup ice cream.
~ Diabolical intent.
~ Hideously true.
~ The offspring is sterile.
~ It's basically soap that doesn't get you clean.
~ The fragrance equivalent of a stage whisper: a quiet accord, only loud as hell.
~ Useful if you desperately miss mowing the lawn.
~ The most unpleasant in perfumery, marine and woody amber: plague and cholera at once.
~ Diabolically long-lasting.
~ Completely baffling.
~ Iris just suffered a disfiguring car crash.
~ So two-years ago.
~ Excitingly weird rancid-glue (or seriously dirty drawers).
~ Cacophonic mix.
~ As comfortable as having your dental plaque blasted away by ultrasound.
~ Aggressively boring.
~ More like wet dog.
~ Probably first rejected for use in industrial drain cleaner.
~ Utterly unremarkable.
~ Ageless in a prematurely wrinkled way.
~ Intensely derivative.
~ Deathless prose.
~ Lethally effective.
~ Boring to the point of bad manners.
~ Similar to what happens when you eat ice cream too quickly.
~ A brilliant, beautiful monster.
~ A fallen angel without the demonic laugh.
~ The most repulsively cloying thing on the market today.
~ Blithely aggressive.
~ Hideously potent.
~ Induces a hacking cough.
~ Smell[s] halfway between fish skin and honeysuckle.
~ Uniquely ugly.
~ As relentlessly perky and brainless as a Stepford wife.
~ Frightens horses.
~ An artistic failure and, mercifully, a commercial belly-flop.
~ The bathrooms in hell smell like this.
~ Very nearly good enough for a window cleaner.
~ Egregious screwup.
~ Feels like an alternate universe chypre.
~ Makes me think of hospital instruments.

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