As one who firmly believes that scent is genderless, I find the notion of labeling perfumes 'masculine' or 'feminine' for the most part moot. I pride myself in being an equal-opportunity wearer; I steadfastly refuse to believe that male pride is threatened by an extravagant ballroom floral, or that a woman can't carry off a macho fougère (except for Drakkar Noir, which no one but NO ONE should wear). And yet even here in neutral territory, I'm not immune to playing with the idea of gender-- at least insofar as my imagination (that willful sprite!) invariably attempts to invest the soul of each scent with a body.
Sometimes, the form this tutelary spirit takes surprises me. But sweetness almost always follows.
The dun-colored liquid known as Spicebomb comes in a fearsomely aggro bottle shaped like a hand grenade. Its sibling Flowerbomb occupies an almost identical (if slightly rounder and cuter) vessel. Because it is a "women's perfume", Flowerbomb's contents are tinted a girlish peony pink. It does not look half as menacing as Spicebomb-- and it does not smell even one quarter as pretty. How's that for a conundrum?
I'm not saying Spicebomb would smell better on a woman. I'm saying it would smell better on everybody. The more people -- male, female, sylph, faun, old, young, innocent, knowing -- we can talk into wearing this gorgeously tender scent, the lovelier by default our world will become. Explain to me how a daily dose of saffron, cinnamon, and sweet hypnotic narguile smoke could not make your life exponentially better, and I will regard you with limitless forbearance, because you so obviously need it.
Go on. Pull the ring. You know you want to.
Scent Elements: Bergamot, grapefruit, pink pepper, elemi, cinnamon, vetiver, tobacco, chili, saffron, leather