Why wear it? It's gone, baby, gone-- an original and curiously affecting perfume, now nearly extinct. Completely eclipsed by its namesake's reputation for glitz and glamour, this unlikely comfort scent composed of bready iris, sweet tangerine, and cooked-rice steam is the last thing anyone would expect from a Manhattan socialite. But there you have it (or rather, had it). With scarcely a sixteenth of an inch of fragrance left in the sprayer, I declare that I have enjoyed every atom of Amanda Lepore, and I'd do her all over again if I could.
What does it do? It enfolds you against its ample breast, murmuring soothing syllables to drive the tears away. After inhaling my sillage, an enraptured library colleague practically dragged every person in the office over to huff my wrists. All agreed that Amanda was a calming, comforting presence-- and honey, we need us some of that-all.
How do I feel? Wistful to see Amanda go. Amouage Opus I, Hermès L'Ambre des Merveilles EdP, and Les Néréides Opopanax are all extremely compassionate fragrances, but I like a bit of strangeness with my solace. The closest thing to Amanda I can think of is Daliflor by Parfums Salvador Dalí. Just days ago, a tidal wave of organizational fever compelled me to put my bottle of Daliflor in the box of fragrances destined for consignment. But now I know that's simply impossible. I may not be able to get my hands on Amanda again -- at $900 a bottle, she's no cheap date -- but at least I can keep her memory alive with a less expensive cousin.