Scent of a woman

I'm obsessed with smell. Perhaps having sinus since 5 mutated my sensititvity to smell, I don't know, but I sure pick up (any) smell like a detective dog. I shun the food courts like plague if I have to go somewhere else afterwards because the idea of being a walking char kway teow simply doesn't appeal to me.

And so, I always find myself not smelling nice enough. My current spritz - L'Occitane White Tea (with ingredients like orange, pomelo and cardamom essential oils) - which promises to refresh my spirit is, somewhat, a desperate attempt to fulfill the longing for my beloved Green Tea with Jasmine (which my sis unwittingly finished up) strangely unavailable here. And it's not alone; there was Marc Jacob's Grass which has found its other use as air-freshener in my sis' office, Lanvin's Eclat d'Arpege which just doesn't blend in with our humid weather, Elizabeth Arden's Sunflowers...*text truncated*

"A woman's perfume tells more about her than her handwriting," so says Christian Dior. Liken to judging a book by its cover, where does that leave me then? I'm still lost in the scented maze, still hopelessly trying to find my best fragrance.