So when I was teenager and at the height of my Bath and Bodyworks addiction, my parents got me the full glorious line of Sun Ripened Raspberry (THE premiere scent of 1992). Dreams of fragrancy layers danced in my head as I retired to my boudoir ala Blanche Devereaux to emerge a from my girlish Suave days, an alluring woman enveloped in total sexy scent appeal.
It was all so clear to me. Come Monday, there was gonna be a new cool girl in town. I thought about where I would sit at lunch. Or maybe I would stop playing tennis and maybe try field hockey or maybe just maybe get my mom to take me to a mall. Ahh a mall. I was going to be a great smelling Limited girl. Shit was about to change.
I spent hours pouring over the scent issue of Seventeen magazine. Layering your scents will drive boys crazy for hours. I wasn’t great and maybe still not awesome at first impressions, so Hours of madness meant I could really put the sell on. THIS WAS MY TICKET.
So I ran into my room and started lotioning up every square inch of skin that I could reach. I couldn’t get my back, so I put lotion on a towel and slapped it back there. I figured that would make it extra soft and alluring.
Next came the body spray which I would mist a cloud into the air and twirl into. I repeated this hook over and over again like a 90’s song that had no idea how to end. Dizzy, I grabbed the most exciting product – the clincher – the sizzler- the milkshake that was gojng to bring all the boys to my yard. Glitter Spray. I knew not to go too crazy, but thought a few hundred pumps of spray into my hair would look like I was swathed in a halo of angelic sparkle.
Standing there admiring my work, I felt accomplished… throwing some sexy side eye to the mirror, I felt like my sassy god mother had come down and changed this pumpkin into a bomb shell.
I flipped my hair a few times when something started to happen. Something wasn’t right. Instead of sweet summer sexiness, I started to smell something else. Something less pleasing. Something less alluring. Something more oniony?! As I stood there, the fumes of my work started to waft and I started to get panicky.
Stinking, I quickly go out to the living room to test the waters. Maybe it just needs to mellow out. I flop on the couch and wait. Within seconds my mom is asking what the hell the smell is. I play dumb of course. She sniffs me. Cover blown. I am a full blown onion patch.
She says that I must be having a bad reaction to the lotions. Game over. My mom starts gagging and sends me to the shower.
So that ended my dance with Sun Ripened Raspberry.
With an hour between contractor meetings, I ran to get a manicure. The place was dead, so the owner asked if I wanted a chair massage while getting my nails done.
Um. Yes. Please.
She grabs some lotion and starts rubbing my shoulders… And all of a sudden, I smell it. From raspberry to onions in record time. I try to explain, but it gets lost in translation. Can you stop a free chair massage mid-massage? She starts to understand and reassures me how good it smells.
“Like food. You smell like food.”
She sniffs me and pauses.
“Yes, like good lunch.”
She finishes the massage and I keep catching whiffs of bad cheese steak.
Hoping it will wear off, I meet with the second contractor, noting the personal space he allows me. Ok. He’s not too far away. I must be ok.
But no. I am now sitting at the airport right now waiting for my flight to Boston. 3 people have sat next to me and both have moved within minutes.
Coincidence or onions? I think we know the answer.