Being a man, and a man with the grooming technique of a Barbary ape, I'm not reviewing this for myself, but for my Loved One who requested it. You see, the Loved One is a hard-working lady, likes moving furniture about, hits the gym often, always active, but take a pride in herself, so is always hunting for fragrant odours and other anti-ick devices. This deodorant looks like the business for her because (a) Dove, a trusted brand, and (b) pomegranate, a favoured fruit. But sad to say, it did not find favour with the Loved One. No it did not.
The cream itself is sensational: smell fantastic, kind to skin, no nasty rashes or white traces on clothing. If it came in a tube or a pot it'd be a sure-fire winner. But it comes in this weird applicator. Now, it looks pretty baffling to Your Reviewer, but then most items of feminine kit look pretty baffling to me and this one no more so than most, so I hand it over to the Loved One and leave her to coo and ooh over it. But instead I hear clucks of rage and tuts of frustration. "Rubbish!" declares the Loved One, returning the product to me, apparently unused, "Epic fail!"
Now, I'm used to the Loved One giving up easily and I suspect that a more reasoned masculine approach will solve this, so I start trying to apply some of the cream myself, to show her how it's done. I chuckle in a patronising way and turn the dial on the base. "Like this!" I say. But nothing happens. No cream emerges. The Loved One taps her foot and folds her arms, in that way of hers. "Hang on!" I advise, now turning the dial the other way. Then I read the instructions. Then I try the dial again, then engage in a bit of constructive cursing.
You can see the cylinder of semi-solid cream inside the applicator and turning the dial ought to advance this towards a plastic mesh through which it will press itself, ready to by rubbed onto the Loved One's peachy skin. What could be more simple? Well, too simple for Your Reviewer, who returned the applicator sheepishly. In fairness, the Loved One has managed to coax some of the cream out and declares herself satisfied with its effects (and Your Reviewer can attest to how fragrant and soft she is) but she finds every use of the device an exercise in frustration. The search goes on for an unction, balm or elixir worthy of the Loved One's fair complexion because Dove, you've invented a device too simple for us to use I'm afraid.