Why wear it? Because every woman from my childhood who sported a dry galbanum chypre like this one was so inexpressibly sophistiquée, how could I not want to emulate her? Plus, consider that the finest galbanum came from the mountains of Persia. After the Iranian Revolution of 1979 and all the trade sanctions that followed, it seems to me that women in the West stopped smelling quite so imperious-- humbled by history, as it were. Sharp, fierce, and intractable, DiBorghese returns me to an era when goddesses roamed the earth.
What does it do? It juxtaposes cool (galbanum, oakmoss, iris) against hot (sandalwood, civet, leather) against cool (Are you talking to ME?) against hot (Strike a pose!) until the line between tension and pleasure dissolves. Stupid line... who needs it anyway?
How do I feel? Like I've just gotten home from an exhilarating night at Studio 54 instead of a tedious day of labor at a public library.