Does Louve really smell like Zombies? Well, probably not. But if Stephanie Meyer wrote a book about an angsty teenage girl who fell in love with a handsome, centuries old, likewise angsty boy Zombie, this is the perfume said girl would wear.
The first time I tried Louve, it was evening, before bed. I remember swiping several passes of the applicator wand across my left wrist, then gently pressing it into my right. My immediate response, before effecting Wrist-To-Nose, was pleasant. I had high hopes for this perfume, despite the following review from Turin:
Louve starts with an audaciously intense morello cherry note that forces one to think of a Cherry Coke cocktail (such things apparently exist, perish the thought). The cherry transitions to a strange soapy heliotropin accord with wet-sawdust undertones, more akin to the smell of a confined space in which perfumes are stored that of a deliberate mix. Neither very good nor very bad, but completely baffling.
—Luca Turin, Perfumes the A-Z Guide
Occasionally a bad review piques my interest more than a glowing review, because I just want to know.
It was with a spirit of adventure that I boldly applied Louve, and, as I said above, the first seconds after application were pleasant. Immediately and violently followed by sticky cherry cough-syrup, with a mountain of sugar on top. Horrible! Horrible! Horrible!
While I planned to try Louve again before posting this draft, in an attempt to say something bordering on intelligent, I just don’t have the strength.
You might as well ask me to sit through the new Twilight movie, whatever it is.