A little trek through ragdoll areas, I put these in my wicker basket (pompoms and ribbands) on SATURDAY:
Guerlain Nahema (vintage parfum) - This was literally cooking under a cupboard lamp, the Fisher-scone warm bottle had been baking for god knows how many years, but smelled serviceable - like a neon light-tube, rosy radon. This was neighbours with (perhaps, I hope, better have been) empty bottles of Silences and L'Arte di Gucci - opaque black plastic and infrared oven temperatures are not my friends
Robert Piguet Fracas (vintage parfum) - YES I BRAVED THE WITCH WOMAN. I braved her, and bested her! Trying to tighten the cap, she screeched away, but eventually gave it to me for one dollar because she just wanted it the hell out of her store. I've decided that perfume allergies are delicious things. Do you want scented items out of your home? You may contact me at . . .
A labeless something I have 98% identified as Le Galion's Le Jasmin, judging from the wave and swelter emanating from the little bottle, as well as the (surprise) galleon on the cap
Estee Lauder - Private Collection (vintage parfum)
MINI REVIEW OF REVLON'S CHARLIE, ON SOMEONE ELSE IN PASSING
In a work environment, this smells monklike and austere. It is heavenly after a lather of cheap coconut hand lotion in the bathroom, 3PM spritzes of Dolce and Gabbana, and Clorox sanitising wipes. It is sharp, stemmy, anti-sugar anti-sweet, and has a definite no-nonsense aura to it - because of that, I feel like affixing my teeth and anteater snout to the neck of its wearer in gratitude.
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