"Wow, get me out of this lift." I don’t say that, obviously. But it’s what I think as soon as the two magazine executives enter, bringing with them their perfume-doused coats, collars and wrists. It’s not the smell that’s the issue. Honestly, that’s the only enjoyable part: thorny fruits, an overdose of Turkish rose, the contradiction of adolescent patchouli and potent sandalwood, then almost-vanilla. Bark. Musk. Olfactory morse code for power and sex. I’d recognise this unrepentant showpiece anywhere – these days, anyway.
— Can you guess? Read more in When did we all start smelling... the same? at Cosmopolitan via Yahoo News.