One day in Baroque Art class a lady sat next to me who kept wafting rank effluvia. Les Miserables sewers and a gaping cloaca.
When I was little I got to look at my sister's sticker albums from the 80s. She had a page devoted to scratch-and-sniff stickers. A memorable one stank of dill-pickle.
This smells like I've been nestled under a hobo's armpit, snugly.
Boy-of-the-household = "You smell like B.O."
This was the most regrettable perfume-purchase of life.
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