After my Near Death by Timbuktu experience yesterday, I pulled a 180 and dug out my sample vial of Comme des Garcons Tar, one of the fragrances from the Japanese Label’s inventive Synthetic Series.
But still, once bitten twice shy. I uncorked the vial, took a cautious sniff and was flooded with instant relief — there were to be no powdery florals or simpering incense for me today, thank you very much!
Comme des Garcons Tar comes out of the bottle like oil-slicked, gasoline-soaked asphalt on a blazing summer day, any trace of roadside daisies wiped out aeons ago from the toxic mélange. I got a rush of slow traffic, two of the three lanes blocked off due to ongoing construction, the aromas of hot, fresh tar, melted rubber and diesel fumes wafting in through the open car window.
It could only be better if Cheap Trick were playing on the radio.
This is exactly the fragrance you wear to an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, or to the In-Laws’ house at Christmas. Dark, filthy gruel for the soul. If I still lived in Manhattan, this would be my daily go-to fragrance, cuz why fight the stench of the urban jungle when you can take it out for drinks and maybe get laid? Besides, there’s nothing more pathetic than trying to smell like an ocean breeze or a bouquet of orange blossoms when you’re tromping past a four foot high heap of garbage piled up by the curbside on Ninth Avenue.
Life’s dirty. You have to pump your own gas. Deal with it.
Does to Chanel No. 5 what industrial-strength triple selective herbicide does to your unborn children. Too bad they don’t sell this stuff by the gallon, though, as that first heady blast of oil and asphalt disappears in the rear view mirror far too quickly.
UPDATE:
Below is a commercial clip for one of the earlier Comme des Garcons fragrances:
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