To me, the idea of smelling like a bomb of anything connotes an unpleasantly strong and cloying odor, and when I think of a bomb of spices all that comes to mind are the scents that permeate my clothes, my hair, my skin, my soul when I eat at an Indian restaurant. Don't get me wrong, I love Chicken Korma and Lamb Jalfrezi and everything about Tikka Masala, particularly saying "Tikka Masala", but one thing I do not want to smell like for 24 hours post-gorging on Indian food is Indian food. Thumbs up to the grenade-shaped bottle of Viktor & Rolf's Spicebomb cologne, though.
Admittedly, I have yet to smell Spicebomb. And I'll grant that it probably does not smack of curry. So here's what someone who has sniffed the cologne has to say:
Today, it is the turn of the masculine codes of perfumery to be dynamited: Spicebomb offers us the promise of a concentrate with an explosive personality. Deliberately powerful, exaggeratedly sensual, decidedly audacious.
Er, are those real words that refer to real things? The "masculine codes of perfumery"? I've never heard of them. Are they spelled out in list fashion within the pages of a book or pamphlet somewhere, or am I just to believe this person, who has obviously been paid by Viktor & Rolf to wax poetic about their product, that 1) there exist bro codes specific to the fragrance world; 2) it is time for these codes to be dynamited; and 3) Spicebomb fits the bill. One explosion coming right up.
Further review of Spicebomb literature suggests it will detonate its olfactory explosion with zesty, fresh notes and cold spices, followed by a mushroom cloud of incandescent spices tinged with leather and tobacco and "the brute force of vetiver." Don't worry, I looked vetiver up for you because I didn't know what the hellfire it is either. Guess what? It's grass. But not just any grass, a perennial grass of the Poaceae family...native to India.