Wednesday morning, I had a big meeting at our downtown corporate office. So big, in fact, that I wore a black fitted suit with sexy heels and horn rimmed glasses, just to look a little smarter. Normally, I don't wear suits. Their tailored/lined/uptight feel drives me crazy. I have to fight the urge to peel off my clothes and throw them on the floor, then stand there with my lower lip out, ready to throw a tantrum.
Scent of the day was Bvlgari's Rose Essentielle, which was my favorite less than six months ago. I haven't worn any of my commercial perfumes since October, when I began blending for myself, so I was working off memory here. As I applied Rose Essentielle, I prepared for the swooning, the Oh dahling, I've missed you moment and the twirling with delight. My actual response?
This is some sweet smelling crap.
Since the masses appear to love sweet smelling crap, I went with it.
*Break for mini-rant*
This morning, over coffee, I'm looking through my just received mailer from Ulta, which features new make-up and perfume items. Inside the mailer, I discover three scent strips: Justin Bieber's Someday, DKNY's Golden Delicious and Poppy Flower by Coach. Daphne, my nose, hasn't decided which is worse, but she's not speaking to me at the moment, which tells me they all suck. Since when were perfumers targeting the twelve-year-old demographic? And do we really want to smell like sugary pink flowers? Is anyone that damn precious?
*End of mini-rant*
After my meeting, I wished I had worn my own, much weirder concoction of rosewood, geranium and spearmint, which smells like a rose bush in the early morning hours of a bright summer day. But instead of trusting my instincts, I relied upon an old favorite whose time has clearly passed. No wonder Daphne's not speaking to me.
image from huffingtonpost.com
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