So irritated you could smell even like rhubarbs.
It seems everybodys’s staring at you and you don’t know where to look.
In 2012 Mark Buxton presented an angry and dangerous fragrance Devil in Disguise for days like this. Damn you with your fake Louis Vuitton purses, hands-free headsets and sparkling running shoes you use for walking.
Devil in Disguise literally doesn’t give a s**t.
The first seconds knock you with a sour, bitter and grassy rhubarb. Blind furiousness. It’s untasty and disapproving yet still somehow well-made. As if it wasn’t enough, there’s also tickling and biting ginger in it, so that in the end rhubarb, such a vulgar vegetable, makes me lift an eyebrow and ask: how dare you?
But. Devil wouldn’t be devil if he didn’t sit next to you and didn’t start a conversation just with no reason, exactly like in The Master and Margarita. Hence here you are, a simple and innocent human being, who doesn’t notice when he got confused and can’t believe his answers. The perfume alters too: unexpectedly the sour surface shifts and reveals beautiful magnolia and orange blossom. Such a grotesque and absurd atmosphere with a drop of magic transforms everything into illusion so that you can’t tell anymore whether it’s a dream or reality.
Devil in Disguise with its green heart flies through the night leaving a sweet and sour cloud of flowers and flower stems. It’s only before daybreak that the other notes emerge: here comes patchouli with sleepy eyelids, vetiver and soft dry musk. It seems you are going to wake up and you already see yourself woken up. Yet you can’t.
A fascinating fragrance-mask full of anger and ironic smile or maybe neither this nor that. A scent from elsewhere when you want everyone to go to hell. Except yourself, of course.