Someone has crushed up a tube of parma violets sweets, poured them into a full makeup bag, then has given it a good shake, the contents spilling into the interior in the process.

This done, the entire concoction is tipped over you while you sit in the shade of a lilac tree, sipping orange juice.

This is sweet and floral, very powdery and more than a little sickly at times. It's partly redeemed by the patchouli-amber base and had this been given a little more prominance, it would have provided more balance overall.

Marketed as a perfume for young, carefree women, it remindes me instead of the sort of thing Are You Being Served's Mrs Slocombe would douse herself in, in preparation for a day of standing at the store counter, looking at all the customers with a supercilious expression.

I didn't completely dislike this, oddly enough, but as perfumes go, it's a competent but rather unremarkable creation, one that doesn't really distinguish itself before fizzling out in a dusty pink whiff of anonymity