June 3, 2003
I am flummoxed, dammit, about something that happened to me this weekend. Let me share this tale with you, oh dear reader, in hopes that maybe it will make more sense to you than it did to me.
Anyway, I found myself at Cost Plus World Market this weekend, a really groovy store with all sorts of stuff that you probably don't need, even though it would be cool to have. I was there looking for two things: wine and marzipan. (An unusual combination, yes, especially in June, but that's another story for another time.)
I walked down one of the candy aisles, unsuccessfully searching for the marzipan, when this godawful smell smacked me upside the face. It was perfume, a really sweet, fruity kind that probably is for sale by the gallon at Walgreen's or something, stocked right next to the generic hemorrhoid cream.
Stunned by the odor, I quickly left the aisle and headed toward the wine. Unfortunately, the perfume perpetrator had apparently been in the wine section, too, infecting that area with her fruity stench.
I scuffled out of there, hoping a breeze would come along to clear out the air (seeing as I was indoors, this was unlikely) and headed toward the glassware, only to have the smell get WORSE.
Then, it happened: I came across the perfume woman.
She walked right in front of me, pushing a cart filled with candy in an aisle perpendicular to the one I was in. She looked at me and smiled, as I tried not to gag from the fruity stench.
The appearance of the woman was somewhat puzzling: She was probably about 4 foot 10, 180 pounds (think melon-shaped), and she was wearing purple sweatpants and a red sweat shirt. She was also wearing a white, droopy cap, adorned with numerous pins and buttons.
Seeing as I come from a background dotted with -- and I say this lovingly -- white trash traits, some of this (sweatpants as a wardrobe choice, even in the summer; the hideous ball cap) made sense to me. But other aspects did NOT, which I will get to here in a second.
To finish this story off, I held my breath, got my wine, paid for it and got the hell out of there. I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked out the door into the fresh (sort of) air and loaded the wine into my car.
As I got in and started my vehicle up, that's when I made the realization: I could still smell the perfume.
Remember that episode of "Seinfeld?" You know, the one where the valet infected Jerry's car with B.O., which in turn infected everyone who got in Jerry's car? It was kinda like that.
I shrieked, rushed home, and vigorously washed myself in a completely unenjoyable fashion.
Now, back to those aspects that don't make sense to me. My questions:
-- What would possess a woman to load up on perfume for the occasion of shopping at Cost Plus World Market in her sweats? Even in white trash circles, perfume is usually reserved for dressier occasions, such as Bingo or a dinner at Sizzler -- not stocking up on imported sweets
-- Why did this woman go to shop at Cost Plus World Market for candy rather than somewhere cheaper (not that Cost Plus doesn't have good prices), somewhere more white-trash appropriate, like Wal-Mart. If it so happens that she has good taste in chocolate, then why the hell doesn't she have better taste in perfume?
-- What do they put in perfume to make it glom on to passers-by? Is this illegal? If it's not, can the laws be changed so that perfume manufacturers who make this crap are be held criminally liable, and possibly eligible for the death penalty?
In any case, the whole incident is rather disturbing. I just hope my wine wasn't somehow infected. It wouldn't surprise me if that putrid crap could penetrate glass.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan in exile in Arizona who only wears small amounts of nice-smelling cologne on special occasions. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.