(image source unknown)
Perfumers Annie Buzantian, Ann Gottlieb
Dot is like a summer mid-day berry-sweet sun reflected at you by a mirror made of sugar. Mirrors reinforce two-dimensionality and verything, even sharpness, can be reduced to flatness in a reflection.
Not shriekingly chemical, or at least not any more so than any other girly perfume that presumes that fruit needs to be sweetened before being eaten, Dot is more noticeable to my nose for its lack than its presence. It doesn’t ultimately smell actually fruity or floral in any truly identifiable way because it has no anchor. I wouldn’t so much call it linear as I would call it purely topnotes. It’s the olfactory equivalent of a ringing in the ears.
This is the sort of fragrance I can’t enjoy as a perfume even if I were to like the way it smells. Firstly, it has no connections, congenial, antagonistic or otherwise to skin. Secondly, it’s like the berry version of a maraschino cherry. The cherry might have been fruit at one time, and although it still signifies fruit, is really just an odd bit symbolism: nature, stripped, then made better, sweeter, brighter.)
All that aside, I love this perfume, although I’d be happy never to smell it again, because it was selected by my niece today at Bloomingdales as I taught her how to shop for a perfume. She was thoughtful, took her time, chose Dot and is thrilled with it. I love my niece, and consequently love Dot.