Having shed the toddlers with Grandma and watched our husbands head out to the race track, my sister and I decided on one of those freer-spirit moments we’re good at.
We decided this was a great time to try out some new scents at our local WalMart.
Lots of sample bottles littered the shelves but the fragrance doesn’t smell the same on the spray tip as it does on one’s skin. So we began by spraying a sample on a wrist. Then trying a different fragrance on the other wrist.
When there are over 30 bottles available to try, you run out of body places pretty soon.
We had scent on the inside of each arm, with new spots of fragrance from wrist to shoulder. We spritzed the tip of each finger and thought about trying ankles and knees.
Even for us, that was too weird.
So, not finding a scent that really wowed us, we moved on.
Far from the fragance aisle, I picked up a scent that I liked.
“Smell this one,” I told my sister. I had to thrust my forearm under her nose and slide the sample into place. She took a deep draw.
“I do, too,” she said. “I guess it took time to blossom. Let’s go get it.”
We headed back to the perfume section.
Sample bottles of fragrance do not smell the same in the bottle as on the skin.
Smart women would have kept a chart of fragrance and location on the arm so it would have been simple to connect the sample fragrance with the label. Not us. We sniffed and studied but never did find that magic scent.
I called us free spirits. I never said we were smart.