Review: Zoflora, Oriental Lilly

![we don’t drink this stuff](”/>

The universe is indifferent in its known decay. All those prayers, emptied into nothing. A nothing into nothing returnrs nothing. All those devices we have, totems, incantations. Technology is really just defiance against indifference, but it too is futile. All those cloud saved games of angry birds on the iphones of missing passengers. The universe expands, indifferent. A nothing multpling into nothing. Lazy aeons tumbling, whilst we try to belive in answers.

![oh there must be a reason](”/>

I do not think it is the greatest statements of immortality which impress me the most. All those dusty tombs, gravestones rubbed smooth of meaning.

![not even nothing](”/>

Sorrow, probably joy too all weightless and scattered.

I think it is the little things I like the most, quirky gesture of defiance; a charity name, a bench on a walk. A smile.

In this vein, I adore the new Zoflora. Zoflora Oriental Lilly. Oriental Lilly. Now there is a name. A name which does conjur up – and I might be alone here – the names of prostitutes you see on those cards they stick in phone boxes.

![0898 50 50 50](”/>

If I were the marketing chief of Zoflora, I would have put ‘Oriental Lilly, New in Town’ on the box and perhaps gone for one of those awful ‘viral’ advert things by placing fake prossie cards in phoneboxes. This explains why I work in libraries rather than marketing.

Zoflora Oriental Lilly is a shy smile of a scent. How do you create the smell of a smile? I have no idea. How those geniuses at HD75QH have done it again is beyond me. The pressure of working there must take a heavy toll. Every night, they must wake in their slumbers with the fear etched thought ‘how do you top the smell of linen fresh’ seared into their chemistry based dreams.

But inside this omionusly-hidden-from-the-street-view-cameras chemical manufacturers, done it they have.


They have created a new masterpiece, a glory. I honestly think this is a more important statement of modern life than an embalmed shark. (Unless Damien Hirst embalmbed the shark in Zoflora ‘Springtime’ but I very much doubt he had the wit for that)

They have bottled the smell of a smile, and they are flogging it for 2 quid in tesco. This is our answer to indifference, our tonic. Not to rage at it in sky clutching prayers or threats, not to pretend we have conqured it via synched devices. But to smile at it, soft with a hint of shyness. And then to clean.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *