Loverdose 
Diesel (2011)

Too too too sweet. Barely a whiff of the anticipataed anise and licorice and then dull sweet dry down to vauxnilla, and did I mention sweet? Will give it to a young tween niece who will squeal, and whose mother will to speak to me for a week.

Avoid l-overdoseNow I have to admit that the opening of star anise, mandarin, licorice and jasmin is a great idea and should go together well, but its overly synthetic and intensive execution is not convincing. The vanilla and amber are sickly-sweet and cloying on my skin and neither attractive nor in any way sophisticated. In any case, the strong points are silage and projection - they are big - and homeopathic dosing is advisable if one wants to avoid falling foul of the Geneva Convention on chemical warfare. I get a longevity of three hours.

I've never worn this, but sit next to a girl in the office who douses herself in the stuff so feel compelled to review. It's repellent. insect repellent. Previously she doused herself in 212 Sexy. It wasn't, it was 212 sickening, but at least after a while of unconsciously thinking 'what's this sickly fug?' I'd realise 'oh, it's her perfume, nothing to be done' and could blank it out the way you can an irritating noise. When she changed up to Loverdose I thought I was going mad..for weeks I could smell something wrong, something chemical, some underlying pervasive sickly sweet bleach..I'd sniff the air asking if the cleaners were trying to poison us or if they were burning plastic at the local building site. I didn't make the connection to perfume until one day she lent me the Loverdose body cream to use and told me it was her new favourite fume. Instant comprehension. The stuff smells exactly like the doses of thick, horrible, pink flavoured antibiotic we were given as kids. Something nasty disguised as something nice. Medicine masked with synthetic sweetness. The name suggests this might be intentional. The name also suggests the clap.