You wake up one morning, last’s night’s ill-advised champagne dump still slick against your brow, crumpled up invitation-to-everywhere next to the bed, and there’s this other person in there. And they don’t leave, either, so you feed every detail through your memory machine until al...
As a result, I now can evaluate a perfume at a glance by looking at its ingredients; and a dozen miniature bottles (and thrice as many sample tubes) are in a basket by my bed, and all my fuzzies get a dab at the top of their heads as a way to keep my olfactory bulb happily ...