$30.00
A drug-induced vision of grabby, gore-slicked tentacles erupting from a facade of thick buttercream and lemon sponge soaked in cherry-flavored goo.
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Even the brainiest femme fatale schemes are bound to collapse under the weight of a monstrous ego. The scent of defeat snatched from the jaws of success: a soft, satiny pink grapefruit punctured by a shiny metal drill bit.
The scent of full-blown nympho housewife hysteria: a smear of flushed, pearly skin musk splashed by a sophisticated vintage aldehyde perfume and drenched in the secretions of high-pitched arousal.
Fleshy and fruity: guava musk, slick strawberry lip gloss, and blood-tainted digestive juices.
“I know what I am, but I know I’m not what I am. Beauty lives inside me. But oh, when beauty is trapped, it gets ugly…”
A perfume worthy of a fading Tennessee Williams heroine wandering through a mirror-maze of memories, only slightly singed from too many Electro-Convulsive Therapy sessions: wafts of burning frankincense rising from a hot-seat occupied by duelling champaca orchids, white amber, Sicilian mandarin, and bergamot.
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