Can't You Smell That Smell

I so smell like college today. And I kind of feel like college today, too.

I’m wearing my old-school college perfume, Laila. This particular bottle was purchased for me by the Nicest Boyfriend I’ve Ever Had, who would have done literally anything for me (people say that all the time -- that someone would do anything for them -- but I don't think it's ever really true, except in this case), and who I dumped the week after he told me he loved me and gave me said bottle of perfume and a diamond bracelet for my birthday.

I realize I have just villainized myself!

But in my defense, I was rebounding from breaking up with the Meanest Boyfriend I've Ever Had, who discounted my feelings at every turn, made fun of me, and threatened to leave me whenever I expressed unhappiness with our relationship, but who I insanely loved like that was the only way to continue to get air into my lungs.

Regardless, I wasn't ready for a nice boyfriend. Or any boyfriend. And also there is more chemistry in English class than there was with me and the Nicest Boyfriend I’ve Ever Had. But that's a whole other post. So don't hate me just yet.

I’m here to talk about the perfume. And a sweater. And hopefully this will be a lot less boring than it sounds. Just go with me.

Rapidly returning to my point, I have worn Laila perfume here and there since college, but for some reason today it smells exactly as it did on me in college and it's really weird. Like, if I didn't know better, I'd swear to God I’m standing around Missy's and Brooke’s apartment waiting to leave for Darwin's because of this smell. Maybe I just put too much on? (Who, me?) But you know how smells are. They transport you to wherever you were when you first remember smelling them.

In college I also used to wear this giant, warm, kelly green (when kelly green and I both were not at all fashionable) wool cable knit sweater to class just about every day all winter because I used to wear it over my university food services uniform because they were the same color. Why I thought the whole same color thing was a good idea, I don’t know, but even though I wore it all the time, I never had that sweater cleaned. Gross, I know, but if I was po' enough to be working for university food services at the Slocum snack bar, serving scooped-out bagels with extra cream cheese to the tanorexic sorority-girl/fashion design majors who ate there, I certainly was too po' to pay a dry cleaning tab. But the sweater never smelled bad, it just smelled of Laila perfume, as wool tends to do if you spray it enough times with enough perfume. In fact, wherever that sweater ended up, I bet it still smells like Laila. And so I have bestowed upon all of you the secret to having nonsmelly woolen sweaters: douse them in perfume. You can thank me later.

Anyhow, I still have a point. And the point is that I recently trick-or-treated myself to an amazingly soft kelly green cashmere-angora fitted cable-knit sweater, which is serving today as my grown-up fancy version of the old-school college sweater even more than it would otherwise 'cause I just happen to be wearing the old-school college perfume.

Another point is that I am a lot more fashionable and much cuter now than I was in college because instead of a huge, itchy, wool, men's sweater found on a clearance rack, I’m now wearing a tailored, buttery, cashmere, women's sweater bought for full price. Oh, and I guess I have a lot more money now, too. But I think taste has more to do with it than money.

Yet another point is that Laila perfume always, always smells awesome on me and I should never wear any other perfumes, ever. Those of you who have been lucky (unfortunate?) enough to perfume shop with me in the past (you know who you are) know that I have an absolutely terrible time picking out something new, and you should remind me about Laila next time a trip to Sephora is suggested.

I mean, there's even a "blind smell test" involved, in which I force my shopping companion to hide the identities of the paper strips I’ve sprayed with perfume "finalists" and hold them under my nose to see if I can tell which is which just by smell. What that has to do with whether I will like a particular scent, I have no idea. But it's part of the routine. As is the "last-minute contender," which involves me picking a bottle at random after I’ve spent the better part of two hours trying to choose between two perfumes (one is always 212 by Carolina Herrera, too; maybe I should just freaking buy that already?) and declaring that I absolutely love the last-minute bottle and must now add it to the agonizing perfume-choosing process.

Then I always leave with whatever bottle isn't the 212 and I’m always woefully disappointed.

But I’ve lost the point again (maybe that’s what this post should have been about, how I can’t stay on topic). The real point is that I feel like a misplaced version of myself today because I smell and feel like I should be 21 and wearing that awful green wool sweater, but I look like I’m, well, still on the good side of 30, but wearing a Bizarro-version of the green sweater.

It’s weird, OK? And it's causing my internal feng shui to de-feng. Or de-shui. Or whatever.

All I know is that as long as my current self still smells like my college self, I might as well take advantage and try to snag myself a couple of frat boys out at the bar tonight, even if the only frat boys I can attract at my age happen to be in their 40s now.

One thing remains the same whether I’m my college self or my current self: if I get drunk enough, I won’t care.

Hey bartender, pour me a Stoli razz and ginger. And make it a big one.

Who's got my first round? pilarrrgh@gmail.com

P.S. As an aside, this post began it's career as an email to Laura and Brooke and ended up being promoted to its current glory as a full-blown blog post. Way to be upwardly mobile. Also, the spellckecker changed all mentions of "Laila perfume" to "Labial perfume" when I ran it on this post, which is a great example of how a totally unfunny thing like a spellchecker can be totally hilarious if the stars all line up right.