Head Over Heels

Head Over Heels opens with a pop of melon so crisp and candied it practically squeaks against your skin, a bright synthetic fizz that recalls the frosted glass of a 90s mall kiosk. That initial slap of sweet fruit is quickly followed by plum and peach, but they don't ripen into anything lush or jammy. Instead, they hover in a watery, ozonic haze, as if the fruit basket has been left out in a misty spring rain. The whole thing stays relentlessly fresh and aquatic, never deepening into warmth or complexity. The dry down is a flat, pretty whisper of sweet air, fading fast enough to make you wonder if you really sprayed at all. This is the scent of a single, perfect peach-scented eraser you’d find at the bottom of a purse, forgotten but still faintly sweet.

It feels aggressively mainstream and unabashedly synthetic, a fruit punch that got diluted with club soda. The longevity is short, barely three hours, and the sillage stays close like a shy friend. This is a fragrance for a teenager’s first date at the local water park, not a grown woman’s evening out. Skip it if you crave depth, spice, or any hint of resinous warmth. Wear it on a hot July afternoon when you want something that asks nothing of you, not even to be remembered an hour later. It is a happy little ghost of a scent, and that’s both its charm and its curse.

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We matched these by the notes each one lists, giving more weight to the unusual ones they share. Sharing materials does not make one a copy of the other.

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