Fantabulosa

Ladyboy

Lush 2004 Perfume

I recently purchased a sample set of LUSH frags on Ebay, simply because the history of this house was intriguing, along with the deliciously obtuse names of some of their frags.
Being a drag artist, a frag named 'Ladyboy' piqued immediate interest and while it's very interesting I probably won't be adding it to my collection anytime soon. There is no patchouli listed in the pyramid, but this stuff fairly reeks of it ... and I don't like patchouli when it's obvious in a frag.
It's probably a combination of the violet and oakmoss ... *shivvvvveerrr* ... smells a little more 'grandpa' than 'vivacious tranny' to me.
The banana up top (according to the LUSH site added as a joke) is undoubtedly there to bring to mind the bits of a 'ladyboy' that make her exactly that. I'm sure some would love this ... unfortunately not for me.
In it's favour it has good sillage and longevity ...

I've now worn Lush LADYBOY several times, a testament to the potency of this house's potions. My sample vial contained 2 ml, but it seemed as though I'd never reach the bottom! Of course, that's great news, if you happen to like the rough-hewn, home-grown "perfumes" of this house. The largest size they come in is a 1 ounce bottle--and with good reason!

My problem with Lush in general is that I find the compositions harsh, not lush. Even the ones which are less harsh are still so much more harsh than most niche perfumes. Have I become a snob?

LADYBOY opens evocatively with a blast of artificial banana which instantly calls to my mind my walks home from junior high school. Why? Because there was a Tenneco along the route, and I often stopped there to buy candy, with Beich's Bananas at the top of the list. I have no idea why I liked that candy. If I saw it today, I'm sure that I'd read the ingredient list and veto it immediately. It's bound to be filled with a laundry list of non-food items. What was great about this candy was that it came shaped in these huge rectangular pieces that filled your whole mouth, and the texture was totally awesome (and I have chosen those words deliberatively!). I'm sure that Beich's Bananas are (or were--not sure if they still exist...) every dentist's dream come true. How many fillings have need to be fixed because of Beich's Bananas? I ask most sincerely. On the dental-work destruction front, they are rivaled only by JuJuBes and Milk Duds.

Anyway, the very same artificial banana flavor appears to have been used to create Simon's little joke about a lady boy's anatomy. Ha ha. Good thing he didn't go into the entertainment business. Once the banana fumes clear out (and they are very fumey--like most of the loud scents of this house, always toeing the paint-thinner line), then judging by the ingredient list on the vial, I should love LADYBOY. Anthemis nobilis (chamomile), Cistus ladaniferus (could be a type-o--it's supposed to be labdanum resinoid), Viola odorata (no explanation needed!), and the sacred evernia prunastri (oakmoss), which everyone knows has been pulled from the vast majority of perfumes, resulting in sometimes tragic reformulations.

I do think that this particular Lush concoction ends up smelling pretty decent by the end, and it is not destroyed by Simon's apparent near anosmia to citrus oil (I can imagine him in the "kitchen", adding more and more lemongrass oil to his creations, never reaching the point of detection, all the while unaware that he's actually hyposmic to the stuff!) No, grâce à Dieu--or reasonable facsimile--there is no lemongrass or any other citrus whatsoever in this perfume! It's a miracle! But in place of the caustic citrus oil, there are banana fumes.

I think that LADYBOY is okay. For me, it's a sure trip down memory lane, every time I wear it. But how many more times do I need to reflect upon my junior high school days, walking to Tenneco to fill my mouth with Beich's bananas? Not on my wish list, in the end.

"Ah, banana oil!" is one of my favorite old-timey expressions, especially as it was used by Flash in Danny Elfman's cult classic film Forbidden Zone.

I could've dismissed Fantabulosa as such after seeing a banana note prominently listed, but the inclusion of chamomile and seaweed (!) had me quite curious. I am a bit detached from the apparent queer theme tied to it—it's original name was "Ladyboy"and the word 'fantabulosa' itself was coded slang used by gay British men pre-decriminalization. That's all fine and dandy, but my nose takes me somewhere far elsewhere, notably where certain leaves change their color and decay in the forest. I know, very campy.

Seriously though, as the invigorating banana Runts candy opening eases up and the chamomile is more forward, this mid-Autumn stroll takes shape. The seaweed note isn't necessarily discernible here, but it could be that among labdanum, oakmoss, and violet leaf, a general spongy and damp green mossiness forms. It gives me the impression of finishing a banana in the thickest part of the thicket. Something also reminds me of the maltol-heavy aroma of katsura tree leaves as they turn color in October. I must say, it does put a smile on my face.

The comments on the earlier incarnation of this fragrance are quite devastating, and the ratings too. I almost didn't try it at all! Then I took the plunge during an online clearance sale and bought this along with a handful of 10ml sprays at half price. Because taste is a matter of taste, and I "suffer" often enough from a bit of eccentricity.

Like with food: sometimes I feel like I’m the only person on Earth who doesn’t like tuna, chicken, or buttercream - and (that’s just how it is) for example, also the only person over 13 who can’t get enough of fondant eggs...
And, to get to the point, also not of jelly bananas.

The first thing you smell here is also predominantly banana. Not in the style of artificial banana aromas, rather actually like a rather overripe leftover in the fruit bowl. Probably to be loved or hated? I love it, of course, even if it smells good but not exactly like perfume.

Once the banana cloud has cleared a bit, a delightful little poem emerges. Creamy but not suffocating, a bit resinous, and fruity, but not sweet at all. Spicy-fruity, I imagine a garden full of tropical fruits that are so ripe that some have already fallen and are fermenting on the ground.
Whereas the remaining notes are incredibly elegant. I wouldn’t have recognized the chamomile because I couldn’t have imagined chamomile in such a sparkling, seductive role. It plays a fantastic duet with some other ingredient, and I wish someone from the super noses could explain to me what is what and what’s going on in between -

in any case, this is a fragrance that I have used with great joy several times, and it brings a smile to my face every time. I can only hope that I will get more supply, because Lush apparently really doesn’t have it in their lineup anymore.

Ladyboy... Well, that immediately makes me think of Thailand, BlingBling, and of course, delicate, heavily made-up, provocative female figures, who you only realize are actually men when they are naked or at the latest in daylight when the beard starts to grow back. Seduction, sin, and quick, purchasable sex, You want Massaasch-bumm-bumm?
A world completely foreign to me. And the reason why I haven't been drawn to Thailand yet, even though I am neither prudish nor racist or intolerant... Let them be, but without me.
However, it so happened that a sample of "Ladyboy" fluttered into my house (Thanks Flori). The sample also had a label in kitschy green-pink with a steeply curved banana... Yes, yes, we all got it!
If I were to create a fragrance for ladyboys, the bottle would look like that of Chopard's "Cascade." The scent would be feminine, at most unisex, tropical, sultry, intrusive but not overpowering, maybe something with tuberose or datura, along with exotic fruits... Something like that.
When you uncapsulate "Ladyboy" and apply a drop, a little monkey comes and climbs up you. Rum and banana! Well, that's one approach... But in a flash, the monkey is gone again, has taken the rum with it, and now something happens that shocks me more than any naked man in high heels ever could: It transforms into the ugly scent twin of Bottega Veneta!! Yes really, I smell a chypre, elegant suede scent!
I like Bottega Veneta, I practically worship its elegance, but please, what is this supposed to be? Either I have a completely wrong image of ladyboys (but I don't think so, I just googled some pictures again), or... No, no "or," it simply doesn't fit together! The scent is far too prudish, harsh, and boring for a ladyboy! I am really angry: On one hand, because a perfumer should have a better artistic sense for the combination of naming and scent, and on the other hand, because I now feel that my esteemed Bottega Veneta has been tarnished by the Thai den of sin!
The only thing "Ladyboy" has in common with ladyboys is that it is not what it seems!