Tonight I'm wearing Bond No. 9 Silver Factory because I was reminded of your praise. I like it but to my nose, it's good but not entirely convincing. It's an incense perfume without the smolder, without the darkness, cut with something sharply synthetic. (The violet perhaps?)
It's a cute'n'sparkly incense. It's incense for Meg Ryan. (Or whomever the cute'n'sparkly actress of the day is. My references are never current.)
|The picture Meg Ryan shows her hairdresser when she wants "the Meg Ryan."|
As far as Bonds go, I say New Haarlem rips out Silver Factory's cheerful little heart. Get me to love this perfume, KP. Because I'm not loving it.
Silver Factory is like a fancier Dior Fahrenheit at certain points. But I do agree about the sharply synthetic bit. It's sort of reminds me of the chemical "strawberry" smell in a service station restroom. But once I get past that, I'm all right. But the gas station toilet vibe does keep me from regularly indulging. Plus, it really is too sickening for hot weather.
Boy, I'm doing a lousy job at selling it, aren't I?
Wow, so if Silver Factory is your favorite Bond, I want to hear about your least favorite Bond. Because that description is bound to be positively violent.
Here's what Silver Factory smells like to me: half Avignon and half name-another-generic-Bond-perfume, all garish, synthetic-y and loud. (Y'know, basically any of them, although do I like the loudness of New Haarlem, Fire Island and Chinatown just fine.)
It smells like someone decided to make Avignon safe for the hoi polloi. (But unsafe for anyone within ten feet of the hoi polloi.) But I like the bottle. That's always the Bond No. 9 footnote: "But I like the bottle."
Read Bond No. 9 Silver Factory (Part Two) here