I recently had a revelation in the CVS Bath Care aisle when trying to decide which body wash to buy. About 75% of women’s soap fragrances are either subjective experience-based bullshit…or vanilla. With no other descriptions to go on, apparently these are some of the scents I can choose to embody:
Endless Kiss: Vaguely minty saliva with undertones of cigarette ash and beer.
Twilight Woods: Fear. Mixed with a hint of aged pine.
Enchanting Sunset: This is entirely situational. As the sun sets, am I sipping a Pina Colada on Brandon’s Malibu beach house patio while his jovial dad grills burgers a few feet away? Or am I on the BART train with my face pressed firmly in the sweaty armpit of a tired accountant whose Chipotle lunch apparently disagreed with him?
Secret Wonderland: The musty metallic scent of a creepy old dude’s garage, accented by the faint aroma of the watermelon lollipop he used to lure me there.
Love Forever: Unscented.
Tahitian Breeze and Clean Linen aren’t even fair. I’m too poor for exotic island voyages and I despise laundry, so I can’t even fathom an assumption as to what these smell like.
I feel even worse for men. You guys have to discern what the hell names like “Shark” and “Fierce” are supposed to mean. That’s probably why those ridiculous Axe and Old Spice campaigns were so popular–buy whatever gets you chiseled, black, and trampled by women.
Yes, I know these names are marketing tactics aimed at exploiting the female need to feel sexy and free. That’s why this morning I scrubbed myself down with Midnight Passion, which in fact smells nothing like the vodka-breath and semen I’d thought it would. In fact it’s actually quite nice.