And her name is Bets. Ever since I first spritzed Sugar Lemon eau de parfum that fateful day at Neiman, I have been a fiend for Fresh. First, there are the fragrances, all juicy and rich and sweet and addictive. If I could, I would eat the Sugar Lychee candle with a spoon. Then there’s the packaging: Japanese papers, milk glass jars, apothecary bottles. Be still my heart does this stuff look gorgeous on the bathroom shelf.  But it’s Fresh’s formulas that are really give me heart palpitations. They are so luxurious, right down to the pure brown sugar and wild strawberries in the Sugar Face Polish (which I have to ration out to my husband). And they are gentle yet effective. For example: the Soy Face Cleanser feels cream, removes makeup, and leaves my skin soft and squeaky clean. I’ve started to wonder how many times a day can safely I wash my face. I know others share my obsession with Fresh, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like when I when I put on my delicate Sugar Rose Tinted Lip Treatment that I’m luckiest, prettiest girl in the world.