From Sunday's paper:
In 1999, the perfumer Michel Almairac produced a perfume for Gucci that was -- and remains -- virtually perfect.
Not literally perfect, mind you.
Its scent is marvelously, explicitly unnatural, as if one were smelling a coat made of the most expensive Lycra.
Couldn't you just wear biking shorts? Er, the world's finest, most expensive biking shorts?
But beneath the surface, Gucci Rush runs on lactones, marvelous synthetic molecules that give off the fresh-chilled aspect of yogurt, with a hint of the plastic container it comes in.
Activia: Yogurt that makes you poop. Just dab a little on your pulse points and ...
The genius of Rush is clarity without cleanliness. ...
It's like the world's smartest hobo!
Its architectural cognate is the Bank of America Tower, now rising at Sixth Avenue and 42nd Street. The skyscraper's guts are advanced materials like slag-mixed concrete, but its facade even more closely reflects the perfume.
But have you tried spritzing an office building? It cannot be done.
Really. I've tried.
This box is angled, complex, multifaceted. Its clear glass skin is washed in a milky, pearly whiteness, keeping it both warm and cool.
It is both up and down. Night and day. Pastrami, and yet roast beef.