Today, in the coffee shop on the first floor of my building, I had the unfortunate experience of standing briefly next to "Mr. Too Much Cologne Wearer." I don't know how said stinker managed to get his hands on a crop duster before arriving at work, but I'm pretty sure he used one to apply his cologne.
That or a super soaker.
About three seconds after he ventured too close to my personal space bubble, I went into a coughing fit, as if my lungs were crying out in revolt. The reeking gent was dressed in a dapper, well-fitting suit and carried the confidence of a man who thought he looked like a million bucks. And rightly so- because he did look like a million bucks. Unfortunately, he smelled like a million brothels.
Less fortunate is the fact that Mr. Too Much Cologne Wearer, is not alone. No, he stands proudly and obliviously in the company of many a mis-guided scent-soaked man whose parental figures failed to mentioned the "less is more" theory and whose assault on the nostrils borders on criminal. My roommate's boyfriend, dear sweet boy that he is, is a card- carrying member of the "More is Still Not Enough Coalition." My dog actually sneezes when he enters the room.
Mrs. Too Much Perfume Wearer is no less guilty. Too often, I find myself slamming into a malodorous fog of some gnarly eau de toilette that was meant to be used sparingly, if at all. It always leaves me annoyed and gagging and thinking things like, "Wasn't Obssession discontinued in the 90's?" or "Was she actually DIPPED in CK One?"
As a girl who adores her favorite fragrance (name of said par fume left out to protect said author from negative comments such as, "you stink too, Girl About Town!") I understand wanting to smell good. But, I also think a little dab'l do ya.
And to the whiffy lady in the elevator last week who exited at the 4th floor leaving me to cook in her Clinique for three more floors...there IS such a thing as too much Happy.