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But La Nuit de LHomme overwhelms me with its ambery-vanillic sweetness. As I wore La Nuit de LHomme (by the same perfume team that created LHomme), I imagined an Oscar Wilde figure big-boned, wearing a tuxedo and fur-lined cape, his cheeks rouged, his hair unnaturally blackened hosing me down with his adored La Nuit de LHomme as I gasped, gagged and screamed: MERCY! HAVE MERCY ON MY NOSE! If the Oscar Wilde image does not resonate for you, go to your local Sephora store, stand at its entrance, and breathe in the air from its exhaust system: the synthetic, cloying and banal amber-vanilla-floral fumes smell just like La Nuit de LHomme.