After hearing about Scented Studio, the create-your-own-perfume joint in Cherry Creek North, I was intrigued. This place was really going to let me, the amateur of amateurs, make my own scent? Knowing my taste in everything else in life (I like my clothes tacky and my men gay), this was going to be a disaster. But even so, I made an appointment for my own personal "Scent Journey" and packed my bags for the land of coconut and cake batter.
My relationship with perfume has been a long and dramatic one; I came of age in the era of the aerosol scent spray. It began with a can of Malibu Musk, followed by the never-ending quest to complete my collection of every Designer Imposters body spray made between 1989 and 1993. Then there was Exclamation! and Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth, which cost much more than the $2.99 cans of Primo! (a favorite Designer Imposters Giorgio knock-off.)
I stepped into the big leagues with Liz Claiborne's Realities, and eventually, when I was hired by a department store at the age of nineteen to sell make-up, my perfume hoarding went to the next level. (Disclaimer: If you received a makeover at the Clinique counter inside Foley's Cherry Creek from a teenage girl who looked like Gwen Stefani with braces between 1999 and 2001, my apologies. I received no formal training.) I was making money hand-over-lipstick-test-striped-fist, blowing my commission-inflated paychecks on Hypnotic Poison by Christian Dior, Elizabeth Arden's Green Tea, Lancome's Miracle and Hot Couture by Givenchy.Then, while on a Jamaican cruise, I met Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle in the duty-free shop. Since that fateful clash of nose and bottle in 2000, I have never strayed. I cannot go anywhere -- not even the gym -- without her. I might even forget to brush my teeth in the morning, but I never, ever leave the house without Mademoiselle. And as I prepared for my appointment at Scented Studio, I had to remind myself not to put on any perfume.