SERAPHIM SUGAR

This is the most etheral sugar true vanilla scent. They have done this so perfectly I am so happy it’s perfect for layering as well

Seraphim Sugar

I'd like to begin by saying I approached this fragrance with professionalism.

That lasted approximately four seconds.

The first sniff hit. I blinked. Then I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because my brain simply unplugged itself and went into buffering mode. Trying to work out how it was possible to smell something this PERFECT.

I have now reached the stage of fragrance addiction where I'm hiding from my own family so I can sniff my wrists in peace.

This is who I am now.
I've accepted it.
John (my husband for those new to my rambles) asked what I was doing yesterday.

I was standing motionless in the kitchen.
Eyes closed.
One hand on the bench.
The other shoved directly into my own face.

"I just need a minute." I growled.
He didn't ask again.
He's seen things.
He knows better.

Seraphim Sugar is so much more than perfume.

It's an elaborate psychological experiment.

You spray it once.

Suddenly you're convinced you've always lived in a cathedral where angels spend their weekends baking warm vanilla bread while softly singing in Latin.

You don't know Latin.
Neither do they.
It's mostly humming.
But you all just live in your little delulu cathedral world because Seraphim has shown you the meaning of life.
It's beautiful.

I have become ABSOLUTELY insufferable.
Yes, more than usual.
Someone could be talking about their relationship breakdown.
I'll interrupt.
"Yeah that's crazy... I’m so sorry!
Anyway have you smelled Seraphim Sugar? It will fix your life.”

Someone announces they're getting married.
Congratulations.
Wear Seraphim Sugar.

House caught on fire?
Thoughts and prayers.
Also...
...have you considered Seraphim Sugar?

This fragrance has developed a personality inside my house. She doesn't pay rent. She judges me.
She watches me buy other perfumes knowing full well I'll come crawling back within forty eight hours like,
"I'm sorry. They meant nothing to me."

She already knew.
Confident queen.
I respect it.

Shes not loud.
She doesn't need to be.
This girl walks into the room like the eldest daughter who has spent thirty years holding the family together while everyone else makes terrible decisions.
She doesn't raise her voice.
She doesn't have to.
Everyone sits down.

Meanwhile I'm following behind her carrying emotional baggage and asking if she's proud of me.
She's not.
Understandably.

I've tried to write actual fragrance notes.
Every attempt looked like this:
Vanilla.
Warmth.
Bread.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Backspace.
Vanilla.
Angel.
Crying.
Perfection.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Backspace.
I've lost control of the document.
I genuinely think this perfume has hacked Microsoft Word.
Here's the problem.
It smells comforting.
But not in a normal way.
It smells like being forgiven for something you haven't done yet.
Like finally unclenching your jaw after twenty-seven years.
Like somebody wrapping you in a blanket and saying,
"You've actually done enough today."
Which is frankly offensive.
Who gave perfume the right?
Every time I wear this I develop the overwhelming urge to make responsible financial decisions, drink water and heal my inner child.
It's disgusting.
I preferred being feral.
I wore this to Woolworths.
A child smiled at me.
A lady complimented my cardigan.
Someone let me merge in traffic.
The fragrance has either altered reality...
...or Australians are just incredibly susceptible to celestial baked goods.
Scientists should investigate.
At this point I don't own Seraphim Sugar.
Seraphim Sugar owns me.
I'm simply the unpaid intern.
I carry her around.
I tell people about her.
I promote her agenda.
If she ever gains sentience we're all absolutely stuffed.
Five stars.
Zero complaints.
Except the fact that I've become one of those people.
The ones who sniff themselves every eleven seconds like they're checking if the fragrance escaped.
It didn't.
You're just mentally unwell.
Respectfully.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Final verdict:
I came here to review a perfume.
Instead I entered a toxic but emotionally fulfilling relationship with an angel who smells like warm sugar, fresh bread and better life choices.
I'd apologise.
But she told me not to.

Smells like the freshest, softest yeast buns at the bakery, dissolved into a waft of scented air.

Sweet, sugary, powdered sugar. Yum! This is the perfect amount of sweet that you can layer this to anything (imo) to elevate a fragrance. Love this so much!

Oh my good goodness. This is absolute perfection, I just want to douse myself in its sweet bready goodness