Sung (Alfred Sung)

My history with the house of Sung is an odd one. The famous wedding dress designer has had some success in the fragrance world, particularly with Sung, his first release. His second offering, Sung Homme, was also met with open arms by the buying public, and both fragrances continue to sell today. I tried Sung Homme first, several years ago, and hated it. Then I tried the feminine Sung, and somewhat liked it. Eventually I re-tried Sung Homme, and loved it. Then I re-tried Sung, and hated it. I could get into this, but I fear it would reveal just how insane I am, and so will instead get on with the review.

Let me be brutally honest here: Sung has been reformulated, and the reformulation is a disaster. I do not, unfortunately, know how the original Sung smelled, as it was never a blockbuster fragrance, and I have never met anyone who was openly a fan. But I can say with total certainty that what passes as Sung today should not pass as anyone's signature fragrance, for the simple fact that is smells like a prostitute's cleavage. You know how people will sometimes refer to inexpensive floral perfumes as being "screechy?" Well, this sums up Sung in a word: it is the ultimate screechy floral.

It opens with the false promise of a nice hyacinth and jasmine accord, which rapidly devolves into a mush of chemical sweetness, with shrill flecks of synthetic green occasionally flitting out from a cloud of yellow. There is absolutely no note separation, no evolution beyond the opening phase, and no character to the sent whatsoever. It just smells thick. And sweet. And bad. I'm sorry, any bride who wears this on her wedding day is just begging for divorce. Enough said.