What Smells So Good
A delightful little child named Vivian came by one day last spring, peddling magazine subscriptions for a fundraiser at her school. I can’t tell Vivian no. She’s sassy and persistent, just the kind of girl I like to be around.
This purchase has landed me in the middle of what has turned into a magazine mountain. I ordered subscriptions to all of my favorites: the big, glossy Vogue with its labels and designers, the intuitive and gossipy Elle with its fabulous book reviews, the star-studded Vanity Fair with the latest celebrity gossip and album release insights, and finally, the controversial Rolling Stone, for the times when I want to get my Republican blood pressure way up. Four magazines…who has time to read these?
Over the summer, I noticed that I’d accumulated somewhat of a backlog, so each weekend, I pile a few of them up next to me on the couch where I lounge in my pajamas and drink coffee and I flip through them. I don’t often stop to read the long, thoughtful articles, and I will really only commit to perusing a review for a new author I’ve never heard of or reading about an up-and-coming political powerhouse I need to watch out for. Yes, I also pause to admire the pretty Louis Vuitton purses and sexy Manolo Blahnik shoes, that’s what fashion magazines are for after all. But for the most part, I keep my pace pretty steady. It’s the only way I’ll get through them all. Still, there is one other thing that gets my attention.
I love, love, love the perfume sampler pages.
Underneath those little flaps, you can find wispy teasers of some pretty heavenly perfume (eau de parfum if you’re fancy), and all you have to do is peel it back and enjoy. I think most people peel and smell and move on. I used to be that person, too. Now, I am a person who has discovered one of the most exciting yet under-indulged features of the magazine world!
See, as I sit on my long, sectional couch with all its pillows and blankets, or even better, if I’m propped up on a stack of pillows lying in my snuggly bed, I spend my time making my favorite places smell delicious. I open those perfume samplers and then I SMEAR them all around me. Lancome’s La vie est belle to my left, Tiffany & Co. to my right, Chanel’s Coco all over my pillow, Jimmy Choo’s L’Eau, Guess’s 1981 and Woman by Ralph Lauren on whatever flat surface of my blanket mound I can find, light blue by Dolce & Gabanna, Mui Mui, Tory Burch’s first fragrance, Candy by Prada, and a dozen others, licked right across the top of each of the cushions of my couch. My comfy corners smell absolutely fantastic, and I didn’t have to spend a single cent to make it that way.
I left my house last night to go to dinner and when I returned later and plopped down on the sofa for some television, the smells that went airborne lingered and hung in the air throughout my entire living room. I couldn’t remember which fragrances I’d smeared where, but one thing was certain.
I found myself undeniably in a room any woman would want to be in.
I have about seven magazines still to go, with more coming each week, and that’s a good thing because the perfumes don’t last. I promise, it’s not overwhelming at all to have them all working at once. They do fade quickly. In just a few days, it will be time to peel-and-smear again, so perhaps I’ll lie on the carpet to read next weekend. Trust me, it’s dog-versus-Dior down there.