Like almost every beauty editor I know, my fascination with beauty products started young. I’d spend hours poring over the Avon catalogues that came through the front door while I was still in primary school and, if I were lucky, my mum would let me pick out a fruity body mist or a tinted lip balm as a treat. Once I hit my teenage years and could buy my own magazines, I’d cut out pictures of colourful eyeshadows or body shimmers and stick them into wishlists in my scrapbook. As for perfume? Well, I was utterly obsessed. I’d tear out the fragrance samples that you’d find inside the pages of the monthly glossies and save them for special occasions (aka a friend’s bowling birthday party) and every birthday and Christmas, I’d ask for a new scent. And since I came of age in the noughties, when beauty brands had started to target a younger demographic, there was no shortage of covetable perfumes. Yet, for me, Kenzo’s Flower by Kenzo wasn’t one of them.
