Scentoholism...
The amount of money I've blown on perfume oils and sprays in the past several years is a frightening figure that I don't care to know. Though, were I wealthy, "real" high-end perfumes would be all over the bathroom and vanity instead of BPAL vials, B&I bottles and myriad other heres and theres....and the tally would be much, much worse. I don't know what it is. Is it like anything else, such as music...food items...makeup...books...etc....in that there is some greased-pig-like notion that if I only looked enough and tried enough options, I would open a magickal door into life-altering experience? Lame, I guess. Always looking for the next mindblowing sensory experience, though in my quiet and otherwise unadventurous way. Thank heavens I never latched onto thrill-seeking behaviors, extreme sports, shocking displays. Trying to find the perfect, sublime beer is a much safer pursuit, no? And perfume is the same. I like the old feminine archetype of the "s...