walk into Watson’s to stare at products.
I came away with baby wipes, Ricola
Mountain Breeze herb lozenges and a bottle of Angel’s Breath Femme eau de
toilette.
Angel’s Breath – so eighties.
Every high school girl’s white collar reeked of it. After Angel’s Breath came
Angel’s Love, Angel’s Smile, Angel’s Plastic Bottle Embossed With Cherub number
63… I had my Angel’s Breath, like everyone else. It was the lemon and orange
blossom and baby powder scent that went with pimples and insecurity and petty
arguments over hairbrushes.
Angel’s
Breath Femme comes in a glass bottle inside a red box, with gaudy gold letters
that scream “trashy” and “tasteless logo designer.” It’s around 350 pesos, three
times more expensive than the splash-on versions. There is also an Angel’s
Breath for men, in a dark green box. (Yes, the two beside each other make me
think of Christmas. A gaudy Christmas.)
Packaging
aside (literally – I threw the box away within 3 minutes of leaving Watson’s),
Angel’s Breath Femme is fresh, missing air-freshener territory by a hair of
inadvertent good taste. It makes me think of the girl who shows up at her high
school reunion and is told, “Hey, you look really good” by the girls who used to
pinch her pens when she wasn’t looking. (In fact, it seems to me to be the
downscale version of L’Occitane’s L’Oranger.) It will make a perfect “lifter”
for many of my oriental and “dark”
fragrances.
I can’t wait to layer it with
Jovan White Musk. It’ll be like the eighties all over again, except in this
version I will have more money and as much taste as I can scrape off my Spandau
Ballet cassette collection.