5.05.2008

Sour Times

White Aoud, which I've been wearing faithfully for weeks - one might call it my spring comfort fragrance - has turned on me.

Let me first say that until today White Aoud has been nothing but pure joy to me, and grown-up joy at that. It was a tastefully sexy, moderately windblown sundress swishing around my knees. It was a blooming rose without the melodrama, an evening gown with ample pockets, a garden laced with the smell of fresh dirt and wet bark and decomposing wheelbarrows. It was Grace Kelley in picnic plaid. It was Emma Thompson in Much Ado About Nothing. It was a powder-blue convertible. I could go on.

Today I dabbed it on, inhaled its wonderful camphorous opening, was soothed by its calming powdered rose, looked forward to its vanilla-woods drydown.

Guess what? That's what I got - on my left wrist. On my right wrist, I'm getting . . . sour milk.

I always heard about perfumes that turned on people, spoiled right on the skin. But I never thought it could happen to me, and I never thought it would be White Aoud, my beloved well-mannered White Aoud, that stabbed me in the back. Why? Why?

And why, for god's sake, only one wrist?!!



3 comments:

captain birthday said...

BEST. POST. EVER.

oedipa said...

Aw, you just like the pictures!
Seriously, this is a tragedy of vast proportions. I wasn't wearing bracelets on that wrist. . . I don't understand!

Maybe all the Pop Tarts I've been eating?

captain birthday said...

NOT. THE PICTURES.
(though they are great).

Srsly - "It was Grace Kelley in picnic plaid. It was Emma Thompson in Much Ado About Nothing. It was a powder-blue convertible. I could go on."

Reading this was the best part of my morning.