I never understood the enthusiasm among niche fans for Citrus Paradisi. It has its detractors as well, but generally the fragrance is well received. It's certainly made well, as all C&S products are, and it exhibits its concept deftly enough, but the concept is the problem for me. It's too much of a good thing.
When I applied this fragrance to skin, the first thing that hit me was grapefruit, and lots of it. Grapefruit is what it's all about. The bitter freshness of natural grapefruit juice makes for an interesting and attractive smell, yet it possesses a strange funkiness that clings to nostril hairs long after the liquid has dried. When rendered honestly, grapefruit in perfume achieves the same funk, usually in the drydown. Sometimes grapefruit is used to balance a cologne, and prevent things from swaying too far into "clean" territory. When dosed properly, it's the perfect garnish for an olfactory fruit salad.
The intensity of Citrus Paradisi's grapefruit note is scary. I'm accustomed to sitting down, slicing my grapefruit open with a fruit knife, inhaling its lovely fumes, and digging in. But the grapefruit in this scent handcuffed me to the radiator and had me for breakfast. Just as I'm recovering from fructose shock, in crashes a wave of civet, and now I'm chaffing my wrist, trying to escape a Supernova Quasimodo Megafunk from Hell.
The pungency of the citrus, which is already dialed up to eleven, now has urinous musk backing its gremlin advances. Try as I might, I can't get on board with anything this overtly funky. It's one-note funky, "just plain funky," no-fun funky. The far drydown smells like a forgotten ashtray in a Moravian pub.
Is Citrus Paradisi worth a try, even for citrus fans? I say funk it.