You know when you step into the elevator and the doors close and you suddenly wish you’d waited for the next one because your eyes are watering and you are about to faint from the smell of cologne someone has too-liberally applied? That’s what the grenade-shaped containers for “Spicebomb” make me think of. Tear gas. I realize that’s not what they’re going for with their claim that the cologne is “an explosive cocktail of virility that transforms you into a powerful, intense and daring man,” but I guess I am not their target audience, either.
(Nor, I should point out, lest you think this is simply a sexist comment, am I the target audience for their “Flowerbomb,” which is a pink perfume in a glass grenade-shaped bottle.)