By Kilian
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The neroli and bergamot flash bright and fleeting, a citrus veil that barely conceals the honeyed orange blossom surging beneath. Pink pepper adds a fizzy sparkle that lasts perhaps ten minutes before the marshmallow accord muscles its way forward, soft and pillowy but already tinged with caramel. This isn't a gradual reveal—it's an immediate statement of sugared intent.
The white floral trio of orange blossom, jasmine, and honeysuckle blooms into full theatricality, each petal seemingly dipped in honey syrup. Iris brings an unexpected powdery creaminess that reads almost like vanilla buttercream, whilst the marshmallow deepens into something toasted and substantial. There's a musky warmth building underneath now, that civet note creating an intimate, skin-heated quality that keeps this from smelling purely edible.
What remains is an ambered vanilla-caramel skin scent with a distinctly animalic undertone, the musk and civet finally asserting themselves properly. The sweetness persists but becomes more resinous thanks to the labdanum, less marshmallow fluff and more sticky, golden warmth. It's tenacious stuff, clinging to fabric and hair with that signature honeyed signature that announces itself before you enter a room.
Calice Becker's Love Don't Be Shy is an unabashed sugar rush wrapped in white florals, the olfactory equivalent of pink cashmere and champagne lipgloss. This is marshmallow taken seriously as a perfume material—not the watery, ozonic interpretations that plague mass-market fragrances, but proper, dense guimauve with browned edges. The neroli and orange blossom opening provides fleeting respectability before the composition careens into its true intent: a honeyed, caramelised cocoon where iris lends its buttery texture to what is essentially an edible floral fantasy. There's genuine civet here, a warm animalic pulse beneath all that sweetness that prevents this from being merely gourmand. Instead, it becomes something more complex—plush white florals macerated in vanilla syrup, with that feral musking giving it a skin-like intimacy. The jasmine and rose are there, but they're supporting players to the marshmallow-honeysuckle duet that dominates proceedings. This is maximalist femininity for those who've moved beyond caring whether their fragrance is 'too much'. It's beloved by women who wear statement jewellery to the supermarket, who understand that presence isn't about volume but about unapologetic self-expression. Yes, it's been worn to death. Yes, it spawned a thousand dupes. But there's a reason for that—Becker created something genuinely compelling here, a sweet scent with proper perfumery bones, amber and labdanum grounding what could have been cloying into something that somehow works. Polarising, expensive-smelling, utterly shameless.
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3.6/5 (4.2k)