Today marks one year since Rhiannon arrived back home from her American jaunt, bringing with her among other thoughtful gifts, a big mother bottle of Ralph Lauren Romance eau de lovely perfume for her favourite big sister (me). While in the following year I have smelled absolutely divine, I have not flung my legs round the waist of a well-chisled man as he gazed adoringly into my mud-pie eyes, nor had one drop to his knees to kiss my lovely belly, as illustrated here in the RL advertising campaign. On some level I guess I thought my delicate fragrance would have incited such romantic behaviour. I haven't even had some grotty VB-scented geezer try to cop a feel in a pub. What is wrong with me? I'm sending back the half empty bottle! It's a dud, Ralph! A dud, I tells ya!