Ok so I know it’s hardly a pap-worthy shot, but screw up your eye reallllly tight and concentrate real hard. Because somewhere in that blurry blob is Lady Gaga. In the flesh. Honest.
Yes, last night I boogied away to Lady G at Twickenham rugby stadium thanks to the wonderful people behind her fragrance – Lady Gaga Fame, £23.99.
The G herself was as peculiar as was to be expected – we’re talking screamed f-bombs, several flashes of her black pvc thong (I lost count around 13), and the repeated promise to “preform my p*ssy off unless the b*stards shut us down”. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe no-one had told Gaga that this was polite suburban neighbourhood, not the police-ridden ‘hood.
But anyway, that’s somewhat by the by.
On to the fragrance. First impressions: ew, it’s black. An egg-shaped, claw-topped (natsch) bottle of inky black liquid – one for the true Gagaites then. But then you spray it and it comes out clear. Phew. So far good.
But the scent wasn’t what I expected either. No ferocious top notes (I had been predicting something offensive like aniseed), and no hint of the “blood and semen” promised by various Mail Online articles. Actually it’s very sweet. Sickly almost. In fact, I have to admit, it reminds me of something my mother might wear. Is that wrong? Ok, maybe I won’t admit that again..
So it wasn’t what I expected, but then again, Lady Gaga never aims to conform. Maybe launching a highly standard fragrance is simply yet this another sting in the face of normality? Can ordinary actually become weird when you’re regularly so controversial?
Food for thought.
Who knows. What I do know is that she had a box full of beauty journos singing and dancing along to her hits from Judas to Just Dance. Well played, Gaga!
Love, Laugh, Livery x
