Christmas perfume adverts are a roll-call of vanity, emptiness, vacancy, preening self-regard, bad taste, sheer stupidity and a complete lack of self-awareness. They do perform one vital role though, in that they provide an invaluable insight into what the world would look like if ruled by morons.
2015's perfume adverts
Warning: contains idiots.
This Givenchy is my most hated. I'd like to do the girl in this advert an extremely physical discourtesy. Clem Fandango would think this was sick.
Gucci Bamboo. Playing the piano in the nude. Of Course. Won't anyone think of the piano stool? I always think he's going to say 'she masturbates' at one point. Which would be pretty fitting.
Johnny Depp is playing an electric guitar in a skyscraper. But he's got to get out. He doesn't know which way to go. He passes some oil derricks and a bison. What is he looking for? He takes a spade and sigs a hole in the desert. Then he buries his stupid jewellery. The fucking tit.
Yes, you're Chloe. An identikit, androgynous, affected-kooky, vague, gamine waif - twatting about in Paris, probably. Fuck off.
2014's crop
As with many of its kind, this Bleu de Chanel advert riffs off the idea that squirting yourself with expensive smelly liquid is in any way comparable to rebellion. In fact it's one of the most conformist actions you could conceivably take, only just ranked below walking around town with a gang of your mates wearing a fucking Christmas jumper.
Let's pray this Paco Rabanne Black XS affair ends in a Sid Vicious-style murder-suicide pact.
Good on you Julia. Shake off all that phony Hollywood and fashion bullshit. By appearing in a perfume advert. That'll show 'em.
Perfume adverts frequently reference the sea - I guess the implication is that it's refreshing and manly. Rather than full of jonnies and warm water from a nearby nuclear power station, which it is where I come from.
Hell's teeth.
Fucking hell.
Christ on a bike.
Jesus Tittyfucking Christ.
We're doomed.
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