Ambushed by perfume
I went perfume shopping the other day. Okay, I'll confess. I wasn't actually shopping for a scent to spray upon my hot flashing skin, but that's where I ended up. At the perfume counter in Bloomies, with a very nice saleslady well versed in the historical, sociological, psychological and physiological theories of perfume.
As it turns out, buying perfume is not as easy as I thought.
My daughter knew exactly what she was looking for. And so, like daughter, like mother, I decided I would buy the same bottle. Why not?
Well, I'll tell you why not. Wearing the same scent as someone you hang around with is an absolute no-no. According to perfume etiquette, every woman must wear her very own fragrance.
Well, if that's the case, then back in high school, I along with everyone else I knew committed a huge "perfume faux pas" as we all wore the same scent: Ambush.
We seemed to be just fine with this. I was never confused as to who I was and never mistaken for someone else. Although, it would have been nice if my crush did think I was one of the popular cheerleaders.
But back to my current dilemma--finding a fragrance to call my own. This entailed being ambushed with a questionnaire the likes of those meme things that go around the Internet. What's my favorite smell? Am I a fruity person? Spicy? Citrusy? What scent turns me on? What smell makes me hungry? What kind of soap do I prefer? What element am I--air, earth, fire, water? What's my sign?
Honestly now. All I wanted was a nice fragrance to mask the sweat which turns the back of my neck into a slip and slide and my armpits into a wading pool.
How about a vodka fragrance? I asked. Or one with a blue cheese olive aroma? I'd rather smell like I'd been drinking than a locker room.
In the end, I was too confused to buy anything. And all the different smells, from coffee to chocolate to roses started to affect my thinking.
I left with a few samples. And with the question zigzagging through my brain--If I were a scent what would it be?