I don't know what it is about my body chemistry when it comes to cologne or perfume, but the moment I spray it on my skin, what smells wonderful to me in the store usually ends up making me smell as if I tangled with the north end of a south-bound skunk.
One day, however, my bottle of Blue Waltz mysteriously disappeared. Years later, my mother confessed she'd poured it down the toilet because the smell of it gave her a headache and made her want to lose her lunch. Somehow, when I'd bought it, that wasn't quite the effect I'd been hoping for.
Alas, I have been trying for years to find a scent I really like. I prefer something light, with a citrus base. I don't like anything that contains strong musk.
Back in the 1990s, I thought I'd finally found the perfect scent. It was called Skin Cooler by Bonne Bell, and it smelled strongly of lemons and faintly of flowers. When I sprayed it on myself, surprisingly it didn't turn into something that smelled like lighter fluid the minute it hit my skin. I loved it.
But my years of experience have taught me that the minute I say I love a product, it usually meets a swift and premature death. Bonne Bell Skin Cooler was no exception. I spent years searching endlessly for more of it without finding any anywhere. Then I got my first computer and was able to expand my search to the wide world of the Internet. I nearly danced a jig when I found a wholesale perfume store that carried Skin Cooler. I immediately ordered two bottles.
I don't know how long that Skin Cooler had been sitting around in the wholesaler's warehouse, but it was so old, it smelled as if it had fermented into something about 100 proof. I was afraid to wear it while driving in case I was pulled over by the police. Just the odor that would have wafted from my car when I rolled down the window would have all but guaranteed an arrest for DUI.
To make my long-time search for the perfect scent even more difficult, my late husband was very fussy about colognes and perfumes. Every scent I tried over the years was met with a less-than-enthusiastic response from him.
For example, we were in a restaurant one day and he casually mentioned he liked the perfume our waitress was wearing. Eager to finally find a scent he actually liked, I made a point of asking her what she was wearing, before she was able to escape. The next day I rushed out to buy some.
When my husband came home from work that night, I was wearing my new perfume.
He wrinkled his nose. "What stinks?"
I was hoping he might have been catching a whiff of one of the dogs, but as he moved closer to me, the wrinkles on his nose multiplied.
"It's that perfume you liked so much on the waitress yesterday!" I explained.
"Smelled much better on her," he said.
"That's probably because she was carrying a tray full of cheeseburgers at the time!" I snapped. "I'll bet if they had a scent called 'Sizzling Sirloin' you'd love it!"
I finally gave up on colognes and perfumes altogether and didn't wear any for a long time. Then one day, I was in a local pharmacy when a woman passed by me and I caught the breeze of a lovely, light scent.
I chased after her and leapt in front of her.
“I love your cologne!” I gushed. “What brand is it?”
"It's called 'Falling in Love' by Philosophy," she said. "I get lots of compliments on it."
So once again, I searched the Internet. “Falling in Love” was described as smelling like berries, vanilla and whipped cream. I wondered if I’d enjoyed the scent because it actually smelled nice…or because I’d just been hungry at the time. I thought it was somewhat pricey, especially since I could have purchased a keg of my old childhood favorite, Blue Waltz, for the same price. But I decided to be brave and splurge.
It arrived and smelled great in the bottle – even better than I’d remembered it smelling on the woman in the pharmacy. And when I sprayed it on myself, my body chemistry didn’t instantly transform it into something that would make my dogs attempt to bury me. I felt encouraged.
But even more miraculous, my husband actually liked it.
The only problem was the scent lasted only about 10 minutes after I applied it, and then it vanished. One of my friends who raved about the scent when I wore it (she was able to catch me within the 10-minute time frame) decided to buy some. But then she also complained about how rapidly the scent evaporated.
The solution came in the form of Falling in Love solid perfume, which is similar to the consistency of ChapStick (but about 10 times more expensive). It lasts for a whole 20-30 minutes after I apply it.
The scent of Blue Waltz, however, used to linger through at least five showers.
They just don’t make stuff the way they used to.
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Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.
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