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09/05/2023
Exciter76
78 Reviews
Exciter76
1
1980s Robot Body Odor Hidden Behind Noxious White Florals
Presently cringing on September 5, 2023:
Early in my perfume journey, when I began collecting in earnest, I had a soap fetish. If it smelled like Camay, Dove, Irish Spring, Ivory, insert-soap-bar-name-here, I had to have it. Eventually, I hit the wall on that obsession. In hindsight, Design was the wall. A big, white floral and artificial civet-y wall that could decimate a tank. After that, I was over my obsession.
Design wasn't bad. Honestly, it wasn't. It was too much. It, along with Giorgio Perfume, is the reason why I think other people think they hate tuberose and gardenia. The civet is not exactly a friendly note either, especially here. I love a skanky civet and I cannot get enough tuberose or gardenia, but this? I could not stomach this the longer I owned it. There was an underlying metallic b.o. note I can only attribute to some civet-adjacent chemical that was used here.
Let me clarify: my bottle was from the late 2000s, not the 1980s. I feel like the original bottles were probably a lot more refined and full bodied. I cannot speak on authority because I was nine years old when this was released, so I wouldn't have had a first released bottle. My grey market bottle felt mass produced, as if sacrifices were made to cut costs and sell more bottles. I'm sure I'm right.
I kept my bottle for about a year in hopes I'd learn to love it as much as the redacted online user who praised this as an underrated masterpiece. I thought I'd seek out all the good I observed in my time of owning and wearing Design, hence the attempt at a glowing review. But the assaulting sting of the metallic body odor became too much for me to bear. The bottle was sent to a new home, where it lived happily ever after, or not. I no longer cared.
Originally reviewed on May 29, 2012:
The subject of most reviled fragrances was posed and (redacted online member) mentioned how despised her beloved Design was. She gallantly defended its compositional honor, both in the post and in her review. As a fellow lover of Revlon’s Ciara—another vilified perfume—I trusted her opinion. I promptly picked up a bottle that I was sure had been languishing upon the shelves at TJ Maxx for several months.
I spritzed my wrist at close range as I sat at my desk. I felt the vapors of this scent take over the room like a fog and I got scared. First thought: “Oh damn, this s*t just got real!” Second thought: “Alright, now that I can breathe, it’s very much like Ciara with a big bouquet of loud white florals.” The second thought brought on a sigh of relief. Just get past the first ten minutes and do not spray at close range—this has the potential to be great keeping those two tips in mind. After the first ten minutes this mellowed out and transmuted into a white floral powerhouse. An hour after that, and for several hours thereafter, Design mellowed once again but became sharp and waxy, like an old school bar of soap. (I’m thinking of Camay or Caress, sharp white florals and detergent.) Depending on your take of vintage soap scents, this is either heaven or hell.
The civet at the beginning is anything but smooth and subdued but it fades in time. For a fleetingly brief moment it resembles 1980s queen of over-the-top perfumes, Giorgio. It’s shockingly not a huge sillage bomb nor is it a projectile missile of a scent unless it is overdone (and with a vintage such as this, it is a very real hazard here). I love soapy scents and I secretly love Ciara so this is an underappreciated work of vintage art that I am proud to have in my collection.
UPDATE: As others have mentioned there are tricks to wearing this 'fume. Either dilute with water or spray at great distance. I wore this several days ago—I aimed the nozzle an arm’s length above my body and spritzed the air twice, letting the mist fall around me. Gone was the sharp soapiness; instead, I was left with a soft vintage soapiness and the most delightful lilac musk combination I’ve ever smelled. It was still a mini sillage bomb but at least the rough edges were worn down to something smooth and lovely. This can be a scary fragrance but it is worth braving, particularly if you are a lilac fanatic.
Early in my perfume journey, when I began collecting in earnest, I had a soap fetish. If it smelled like Camay, Dove, Irish Spring, Ivory, insert-soap-bar-name-here, I had to have it. Eventually, I hit the wall on that obsession. In hindsight, Design was the wall. A big, white floral and artificial civet-y wall that could decimate a tank. After that, I was over my obsession.
Design wasn't bad. Honestly, it wasn't. It was too much. It, along with Giorgio Perfume, is the reason why I think other people think they hate tuberose and gardenia. The civet is not exactly a friendly note either, especially here. I love a skanky civet and I cannot get enough tuberose or gardenia, but this? I could not stomach this the longer I owned it. There was an underlying metallic b.o. note I can only attribute to some civet-adjacent chemical that was used here.
Let me clarify: my bottle was from the late 2000s, not the 1980s. I feel like the original bottles were probably a lot more refined and full bodied. I cannot speak on authority because I was nine years old when this was released, so I wouldn't have had a first released bottle. My grey market bottle felt mass produced, as if sacrifices were made to cut costs and sell more bottles. I'm sure I'm right.
I kept my bottle for about a year in hopes I'd learn to love it as much as the redacted online user who praised this as an underrated masterpiece. I thought I'd seek out all the good I observed in my time of owning and wearing Design, hence the attempt at a glowing review. But the assaulting sting of the metallic body odor became too much for me to bear. The bottle was sent to a new home, where it lived happily ever after, or not. I no longer cared.
Originally reviewed on May 29, 2012:
The subject of most reviled fragrances was posed and (redacted online member) mentioned how despised her beloved Design was. She gallantly defended its compositional honor, both in the post and in her review. As a fellow lover of Revlon’s Ciara—another vilified perfume—I trusted her opinion. I promptly picked up a bottle that I was sure had been languishing upon the shelves at TJ Maxx for several months.
I spritzed my wrist at close range as I sat at my desk. I felt the vapors of this scent take over the room like a fog and I got scared. First thought: “Oh damn, this s*t just got real!” Second thought: “Alright, now that I can breathe, it’s very much like Ciara with a big bouquet of loud white florals.” The second thought brought on a sigh of relief. Just get past the first ten minutes and do not spray at close range—this has the potential to be great keeping those two tips in mind. After the first ten minutes this mellowed out and transmuted into a white floral powerhouse. An hour after that, and for several hours thereafter, Design mellowed once again but became sharp and waxy, like an old school bar of soap. (I’m thinking of Camay or Caress, sharp white florals and detergent.) Depending on your take of vintage soap scents, this is either heaven or hell.
The civet at the beginning is anything but smooth and subdued but it fades in time. For a fleetingly brief moment it resembles 1980s queen of over-the-top perfumes, Giorgio. It’s shockingly not a huge sillage bomb nor is it a projectile missile of a scent unless it is overdone (and with a vintage such as this, it is a very real hazard here). I love soapy scents and I secretly love Ciara so this is an underappreciated work of vintage art that I am proud to have in my collection.
UPDATE: As others have mentioned there are tricks to wearing this 'fume. Either dilute with water or spray at great distance. I wore this several days ago—I aimed the nozzle an arm’s length above my body and spritzed the air twice, letting the mist fall around me. Gone was the sharp soapiness; instead, I was left with a soft vintage soapiness and the most delightful lilac musk combination I’ve ever smelled. It was still a mini sillage bomb but at least the rough edges were worn down to something smooth and lovely. This can be a scary fragrance but it is worth braving, particularly if you are a lilac fanatic.
Unrulyjulie
