Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Stink Bombs Away!


There is a girl in my office who travels with a cloud of perfume. Seriously, it is like Pigpen from "Peanuts" who travels with the cloud of dirt around him at all times. You can smell her from a mile away and after she comes into your office, the scent will linger for hours. Not that she smells bad, mind you, it's actually a nice perfume. Just very distinctive.

I have no such distinctive smell. I mentioned earlier that I have worn Chanel Allure for years, but that is not so much a "signature scent" as it is a "rut out of pure laziness."

So while browsing at Fred Segal this weekend, I was viscously attacked by the perfume lady who was waving white tester strips at me as though she was performing an exorcism. I have a severe aversion to shop-people who try to spray me with stuff that smells like Lysol. But I was intrigued and felt a little too awkward to bolt out of the store, so I acquiesced and tried a few.

Most of the perfumes made me gag. However, one that didn't smell great at first then became better smelling as we went along. I cautiously allowed my wrist to be spritzed then instantaneously regretted it. The saleswoman obviously noticed my rising panic and asked me if I liked vanilla. I said I was more of a mint chocolate chip kind of girl. (This was obviously not what she meant) And she showed me the bottle of Serge Lutens Un Bois Vanille, which I pronounced a little too I-work-at-a-bakery-don't-I-smell-sugary-sweet-and-cute.

At this point the woman looked like she was about to throttle me.

But then I re-smelled my wrist. And it smelled GOOD! I found out that the non-offensive smell actually came from Serge Lutens Datura Noir.

I had read a lot about this brand, but had never seen them up close and personal since the Barney's Co-Op here is not even close to as good as the real deal in New York and Beverly Hills. I could not stop smelling my wrist all day and I have resolved to try to break free of the Chanel chains of love and purchase it on my next trip to New York.

Unless the laziness or the boyfriend allergy attack prevents it. These things are just beyond my control!