Yesterday, I wore Jungle l'Elephant by Kenzo for the first time in a year, at least. I took care not to spray it too high on my neck, where the spices would sting my nose and annoy me all day (this mistake was made the last time I wore it...hence the one year time frame). Using a light hand, I spritzed only twice. Back was the fine suede and cardamom, as perfect as I remember.
Jungle is not the only perfume on my recently-ignored list. Others, that I simply had to have, sit like rejected step-children among better loved siblings. Just this week, Inner Critic gave me a tongue lashing about rotating five or so perfumes when I have many more to choose from. IC demanded to know why I acquired so many perfumes if I'm not going to wear them? Don't I know that they won't last forever? Why did I have to be so greedy?
What a dick.
Perhaps I'm simply evolving as a fume-head. Even though I sample constantly, it makes more sense to me now to own, and wear, only those perfumes that I truly love. I've gone so far as to tell myself that I could actually find my one and only Holy Grail if I just look a bit longer. Evolution and denial have a lot in common.