Skirts and Giggles

Let me first say this: I am no Jane Austen fantasist. I enjoy her books for their pointed prose and sharp satire. I have no illusions that Austen’s books are sexy potboilers, nor do I have patience for any grown woman who uses words like “squee” and goes into raptures at the mention of one Mr. Darcy.

However, in the interest of half-heartedly assigning the various perfumes I review to the literary characters who would most suitably wear them, it cannot be otherwise: Cartier’s Declaration is as perfect a match for Darcy as Lizzy Bennett herself.

No fan fiction, please.

I admit, I was not immediately sold on the scent – like Lizzy, I needed some convincing. At first whiff, I was suspicious, disdainful even. Declaration has sharp, spicy top notes that are at odds with my usual preference for soft, sweet florals. I want to smell like a rose garden, not chicken tikka! But I was intrigued. I craved another sniff. I tried it on, and you’d think it financed my sister’s elopement or something, because now I can’t get enough of it. Its initial sharpness calmed down on my skin, and it softened into casual elegance, manly but delicate. It’s a scent with hidden depths, and worth getting to know, despite an initial piquantness.

Just like Darcy himself. Now never tell anyone I even typed that.