Were somebody to describe the strategy that appears to have lead to this perfume, you’d stop them midway and tell them it won’t work.
Take something that is defined by its volume, its dissonance, its creativity, its unabashed sense of purpose. Take Thierry Mugler Angel. Ditch the idiosyncrasy and creative intent, then trim the edges off the deliberately juxtaposed notes. Next, give into the fear that you might offend a delicate sensibility. Finally, keep just one thing: the volume.
Nuit de Noho crystalizes the problem of derivation among the post-Angels. It seeks to repeat Angel’s success by throwing cotton candy and flowers at us. It supposes that by copying a few notes, it is like Angel, but by being risk-averse, it becomes the antithesis of Angel. Cheap yet expensive is the only juxtaposition that Nuit de Noho poses.