Disclaimer: I can’t believe I’m about to rave about a celebrity scent.
Trying to escape the cold on a snow day, my husband dropped me off at the local mall while he got some things done at the office. The idea was for me to catch up on some reading before we redenzvoused for dinner and a movie. And shockingly, I did manage to accomplish my goal and not just wile away the time shopping and drinking wine, though there was some of that too. (I mean… have you seen the sales lately?)
Sephora was predictably on my hit list, but there wasn’t anything new and extraordinary calling me. I spritzed some Hermes samples on paper but none were striking enough to make me want to wear it all day. Finally, I broke down and admitted I was in love with the packaging of the Nirvanas by Elizabeth and James.It pains me to admit this because I sort of loathe the Olsen twins – really, truly loathe. But that bottle! So clean and edgy at the same time.
Nirvana White is the “feminine” one with brighter florals (peony?), while Black is the “masculine” one with more sandalwood. Right there, I’m irked too because the duality is gimmicky to me, playing off the whole twin-thing. I’m not crazy about White because it reminds me of Tom Ford’s horrors, but Black? HOLY SHIT.
This is a serious scent. It smells like a rock star – not the cupcake mleck that Katy Perry probably reeks of, nor of sickening desperation of Mariah Carey – no, this is a Rock Star. This smells like what Anita Pallenberg looked like back when she nailed both Mick and Keef. It’s Cat Power in all her bad-ass glory. It’s the Wilson sisters kicking all sorts of ass long before chicks were supposed to. It’s strong, it’s sexy, and it commands attention.
No Fucks To Give
I think I’m going back to get a rollerball of it. I have more than enough perfume at the moment, but jesus. This. Nirvana.