Nothing says December like finding a fragrance wrapped under the tree. “I love you, baby. I want you to smell better. Jesus is born.”
The perfume ads the designers put out are nuts. First, they call these ads “films.” A perfume ad does not need a Director’s Cut. You are not the Michael Bay of eau de parfum, even if a good scent transforms you. (See what I did there?)
Second, these perfume ads make about as much sense as a fever dream. After viewing, I often ask, “Am I high?” Did my holiday baking include edibles? These ads don’t convey sexy or aspirational. They convey da fuq? They also convey that Julia Roberts has very specific looking teeth.
This ad is about a threesome in Venice. Y’all know I love a good menage story. The trouble with this threesome is Jared Leto makes up one third of the participants. Opposite of hot. If Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is the Heat Miser of sexy times (which he is), then Leto is the Cold Miser.
Presenting the new Gucci Guilty campaign. Starring Jared Leto, the story unfolds in Venice, a city that in the past allowed its people to transgress society’s norms, its liberated aura still circling its streets today. Filmed as a set of flashbacks by Glen Luchford, the campaign builds sensual intrigue around an intimate experience between three people.
Was Venice the place to get your freak on? Was it the Vegas of back-in-the-day? “How did you end up with that hickey and tramp stamp, Michelangelo?” “I can’t tell you. What happens in Venice stays in Venice.”
This ad reminds us that even Gucci can make unfortunate stripper heels.
Everyone is crowded in the bubble bath, spraying perfume. “I’d love to reach your dick, Jared, but I’m wedged against the porcelain by Angelica’s thigh.” And the smells! How can you overpower the scent of Mr. Bubble? With 10 spritzes of perfume. At this point, I would have to tap out of the threesome do to a major allergy and asthma attack. My snot is not lube; my wheezing does not convey excitement.
The name of this sex position is “Tell me one more time about your band.”
Guilty Not Guilty. As in, Sorry Not Sorry, the tag line of Basic Bitches everywhere.
Chanel No. 5 L’Eau
This ad stars Johnny Depp’s daughter, Lily Rose. Ugh. Nepotism! It used to be just for idiot kids getting into Yale or Princeton. Now rich people kids are using it to forge modeling careers. So unfair to the unconnected, pretty people.
This ad loves words. Night! Day! Question! Answer! Lamp! Gosh, women are so complex.
There is a hipster bar in Williamsburg that is missing one of its giant Edison-style lightbulbs.
Looks like Lily Rose got an invite to the Eyes Wide Shut New Year’s Eve shindig. Sex club + amateur night + glitter = my personal hell.
I like this part of the ad the best. If anyone can understand our current angst, it’s the French. Are fascists taking over? Oui. How do you fight them? Avec rouge leg warmers.
You know what moves units of perfume? Cultural appropriation. Hindu’s did it first with Holi. But Karl Lagerfeld tries to do it better with pink White Lily flour.
Another ad that is presented as a film. A film brought to you by Universal Studios and Macy’s, your favorite mall anchor store.
“I touch the sun, and it’s says run.”
In a one shoulder, beaded gown without a sports bra?! That sun hates your tits, Charlize. Don’t listen to it!
They filmed this ad in the middle of Lake Tahoe. Dang, that California drought is not playing.
Wait. She’s walking on water in lace-up sandals. Charlize is like Jesus. Except she’s fair-haired and white.
And then we have to endure the affected way Charlize says “J’adore” and “Dior.” Ugh. It reminds me of that episode of Friends, the one where Joey is learning French.
“Je m’apelle Claude.”
“Bee blah blue, Claude.”
The tag line of the ad is “We are gold.” You know who loves gold? Your crazy Uncle Carl who watch Fox News and thinks the Fed is part of an Illuminati conspiracy. You know who loves rose gold? ME!
Lancome La Vie Est Belle
Julia Roberts gave up that awful red wig from Mother’s Day and Helix, added some fresh blonde highlights and sucked on some Spanx for this ad. The elevator pitch? Woman in white uses sorcery to escape the worst dinner party ever.
All Julia wants is for Malcolm to stop taking about how hot Kellyanne Conway is. Ricardo, next to Ms. Roberts, wants Malcolm to keep talking because his spank bank account is running low on funds. Both hands where we can see them, Ricardo.
Julia is like, Enough! Instead of finding a door, she uses the power of touch, turning plaster walls into diamonds. When God doesn’t give you a door, he gives you voodoo…with bling.
She escapes the dinner only to find herself at a cocktail party in which the theme is “Pantone Colors of the Year, 2016.” Rose Quartz and Serenity. If napping had a color scheme, it would be these two colors. And when I think napping, I think PARTY TIME!
This party has it all. Drunk Presbyterians. DJ Khaled’s chandelier. The perfect ratio of white and black people, according to Steve Bannon. Susan Lucci’s middle daughter.
Have you ever wondered where cast-offs from The Bachelorette get sent? This party. Sorry, Brad. No rose for you.
Julia spots Tiffany Trump and her bi-sexual lover. Hey girl, hey!
Remember that final scene in Back to the Future, where Doc Brown says, “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need any roads!” That’s the inspiration of this ad. “Walls? We don’t need any walls!” And instead of a flux capacitor, you use a heavy parfum with notes of iris, patchouli, and gourmand.
Julia ruins this house for good with one final wall explosion. And what was this heifer trying to see? The Eiffel Tower at night. Like every other American tourist alive. Disappointing.
No snark. This ad is amazing.