Saturday Arielle Shoshana Arielle Shoshana 2017
2
post-revel remorse
Saturday is the scent of overindulgence, of fun gone sour. The good: this is the most realistic passionfruit scent I’ve encountered. It’s pulpy, tart, almost overripe. The bad: the dissonance between the ripe fruit and the powdery iris. Something about the iris pulls neon purple, cloyingly artificial, and makes me think of a just-sanitized metro station restroom. The ugly: I think this clash makes the passionfruit feel rotten, where I get this faint bilious, animalic tang. Like scrubbed-away vomit.
On paper this looked perfect. To my nose, it sadly didn’t jive. Based on the reviews, it seems like this is a bit of a splitter, and I dearly wish I had whatever Saturday-yummy gene many others do.
Mental Snapshot: Margarita night with the girls. They dare you into ordering the Fishbowl Challenge. Passionfruit too, not half bad. (You win the challenge). (They hang your Polaroid above the bar). But somewhere on the sweaty, blistery stumble home you feel anything but a victor. You shelter in a 7-Eleven restroom, vowing to never taste a passionfruit again.
tl;dr: tropical acid reflux
On paper this looked perfect. To my nose, it sadly didn’t jive. Based on the reviews, it seems like this is a bit of a splitter, and I dearly wish I had whatever Saturday-yummy gene many others do.
Mental Snapshot: Margarita night with the girls. They dare you into ordering the Fishbowl Challenge. Passionfruit too, not half bad. (You win the challenge). (They hang your Polaroid above the bar). But somewhere on the sweaty, blistery stumble home you feel anything but a victor. You shelter in a 7-Eleven restroom, vowing to never taste a passionfruit again.
tl;dr: tropical acid reflux