Perfume Review: Danielle Steel Danielle
Admit it, you have read at least one Danielle Steel novel…if not, go ahead, cast the stones and snicker. I have stopped being interested in the genre by 1991-ish, when I was fifteen or so, but prior to that I had read at least half a dozen of Steel’s books. And, to keep shameful admissions coming, I will admit that I was actually looking forward to trying Danielle Steel’s fragrance, Danielle. I was intrigued. I hoped the scent would be an olfactory bodice ripper, a heady, luxurious, slightly tasteless but fascinating, come-hither perfume evoking heaving bosoms, eyes clouded with desire…a perfume full of intrigues, rather predictable twists, and incredible, inhuman passion that lasts forever and triumphs in the end despite the most implausibly horrific hindrances…Fracas meets Poison, that is the kind of scent I wanted Danielle to be.
In reality, which hardly ever matches the wild flights of one’s imagination, the scent turned out to be rather tame and pleasant, a scent of Steel’s readers rather than her larger-than-life heroines. It is a politically correct, neutral fragrance that a woman who is polite, discreet and unadventurous in her everyday life would not be ashamed to wear. The books she reads might be full of forbidden love and appalling secrets, but her perfume must not be in any way offensive to anybody or even too noticeable. Forget the incredible passion. Sex might sell books, but it seems that the creators of Danielle believed that conventional and timidly trendy sells perfumes. Sugary yet slightly watery, Danielle has vaguely citrusy top notes and moderately sweet, slightly vanillic floral heart. The drydown, the happy end of it all, is musky and unremarkable. The whole composition is ever so slightly reminiscent of Angel, but a very, very tactful and bland version of Angel. It is very wearable and very dull, a scent-by-numbers, with no heart and no imagination. Which? Really isn’t surprising at all, since Danielle Steel admitted to New York Post with admirable honesty that she was involved in designing the bottle and packaging, but was basically indifferent to what was in it. “It's called a floriental and it's for the mass market, not Bergdorf's. For 25 years, I've been asked to put my name on a fragrance, and Anna Wintour made the match. I finally decided if it brings me some money, why not?”
Danielle is available at Sephora, $35.00-$125.00.
The images are from bravotv.com and daniellesteelbeauty.com.