I had a much-anticipated, lovely lunch with the gorgeous and vivacious La Belette Rouge yesterday, after which we wandered over to the Big Three (Barney's, Saks, and Neiman Marcus) to sniff out some new fragrances. At our final stop, Choo Choo the very fast-talking sales associate for the Clive Christian perfume line was dropping names like Perez Hilton on crack. "Oh I sold this one to Beyoncé, to Celine, to Katherine Heigl, to Marie Curie! And this one, Katie wore it at her wedding to Tom!" all the while spritzing La Belette's and my wrists. "Wear it around, you'll be back, everyone comes back to buy!"
The one fragrance I sampled ("made with the flowers of fifty thousand baby white roses!") wasn't bad at first. For the first twenty minutes I liked it. Then it started to bug me, its cloying propensities increasing to the point that I was scrubbing my wrist with an alcohol-soaked kleenex three hours later trying to remove it. But this stuff is Zombie Perfume! It wouldn't die! Finally, I tried dousing my wrist with some Neutrogena Sesame Body Oil, which didn't entirely kill the fragrance, but cajoled it back into a somnolent stupor.
On a whim we popped into David's Shoes right before saying goodbye, and La Belette found....wait, I'll let her tell you.
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