04/17/2016

GothicHeart
85 Reviews

GothicHeart
Helpful Review
4
Reinventing elation...
Back in 1969 Lancôme decided that the world was not as blithesome a place as it should be. Thus it created Ô and surfeited the air around us with squadron over squadron of tarty citruses. However, these were simply fighters escorting heavy bombers with fancy names like "Vetiver Raider", "Rosemary Bandit", "Coriander Brigand"and "Oakmoss Corsair" painted beneath their cockpits. But this fleet of notes acted rather as a distraction than destruction. What Lancôme actually launched was a neologism the likes of "heterogeneity". You see, I have yet to decide whether its vintage formulation is frolicsome or sexy as hell. Perhaps it's both. Perhaps Ô could replace its uncircumflexed [sic] cousin in "Histoire d'O".
Some 30 years later Lancôme thought it was time to upgrade its fleet of bliss. Thus it created an even more buoyant and feelgood fragrance, although such an endeavour seemed nigh impossible. The newcomer managed to leave all lurking bawdiness behind and set brand new felicity standards. And how could it be any different when an exclamatory enthusiastic affirmation in French is its answer to every question asked, no matter in what language?
Sind Sie der ewige glückselig Königin? Ô Oui!
¿Está la hija perdida del sol? Ô Oui!
Will you marry me, oh my bonnie lass? Ô Oui!
Mi vuoi prendere in tuo cosmo? Ô Oui!
Sometimes I think that some fragrances render the presence of a translater completely useless, for I believe that fragrance is actually some sort of wordless communication and a pretty succinct one for that matter. And what's more, it always lands its message, despite not a word being uttered. For your ears can play tricks on you sometimes but your nose is always dead right. I'm sure that all of you have misheard something at some point. Has any of you ever "missmelled" anything? Yeah, I thought so.
So, given that Ô Oui! is green as a spring meadow, piquant as an early bergamot and waggish as a drunken sprite, what are the chances for any girl or woman wearing it to be of the lugubrious kind? If your perfume smiles then you smile too, simple as that.
As a man of a rather sober mien, I simply love the way it can turn even bleak winter evenings into harbingers of sunny and carefree days, when my only concern would be how not to fall in love too many times. If Ô has been a lascivious frolicker and/or a rollicking lover, then Ô Oui! is a rôllicking frôlicker, never saying no to anything even vaguely reminding of mirth, light and verve. And isn't epitomising the very essence of such things with no words spoken one hell of a feat? Ô Oui!...
Some 30 years later Lancôme thought it was time to upgrade its fleet of bliss. Thus it created an even more buoyant and feelgood fragrance, although such an endeavour seemed nigh impossible. The newcomer managed to leave all lurking bawdiness behind and set brand new felicity standards. And how could it be any different when an exclamatory enthusiastic affirmation in French is its answer to every question asked, no matter in what language?
Sind Sie der ewige glückselig Königin? Ô Oui!
¿Está la hija perdida del sol? Ô Oui!
Will you marry me, oh my bonnie lass? Ô Oui!
Mi vuoi prendere in tuo cosmo? Ô Oui!
Sometimes I think that some fragrances render the presence of a translater completely useless, for I believe that fragrance is actually some sort of wordless communication and a pretty succinct one for that matter. And what's more, it always lands its message, despite not a word being uttered. For your ears can play tricks on you sometimes but your nose is always dead right. I'm sure that all of you have misheard something at some point. Has any of you ever "missmelled" anything? Yeah, I thought so.
So, given that Ô Oui! is green as a spring meadow, piquant as an early bergamot and waggish as a drunken sprite, what are the chances for any girl or woman wearing it to be of the lugubrious kind? If your perfume smiles then you smile too, simple as that.
As a man of a rather sober mien, I simply love the way it can turn even bleak winter evenings into harbingers of sunny and carefree days, when my only concern would be how not to fall in love too many times. If Ô has been a lascivious frolicker and/or a rollicking lover, then Ô Oui! is a rôllicking frôlicker, never saying no to anything even vaguely reminding of mirth, light and verve. And isn't epitomising the very essence of such things with no words spoken one hell of a feat? Ô Oui!...
1 Comment