Perfume is that feeling when you bash through one set of doors and there’s another set of doors and then you open those and there’s another set and then you open those and it’s Paris.
Perfume is wearing a wedding dress to someone else’s wedding.
Perfume is Russell Crowe syndrome (when you walk through a field running your fingers through the wheat mysteriously).
Perfume is the cover of *NSYNC’s “No Strings Attached,” but the strings are diamonds and the diamonds are problems.
Perfume is who invited all these lacrosse players in tuxedos?
Perfume is that thing from the movies where the lady sexily wears the man’s button down shirt, not that thing from real life where the lady sexily wears the man’s pit-stained Camp Woodpecker shirt.
Perfume is when all the cabinets and doors in your house are mirrors, but all the mirrors in your house are doors to a land where the back of everyone’s dress is a deep V.
Perfume is the leading cause of Kristen Stewart Syndrome (biting your lip so many times you put a sexy little hole in it).
Perfume is doing a synchronized swimming routine in an infinity pool all by yourself.
Perfume is Beyoncé covering Frank Sinatra, NOT the other way around. NEVER the other way around. That is cologne, maybe, but not perfume.
Perfume is why are these diamonds HERE, these diamonds should be THERE.
Perfume is Semester Abroad Syndrome (when your friend kisses everyone on both cheeks to say hello now that she is back from Europe).
Perfume is only for runway models. No one under 5’11” has ever successfully worn perfume; this is the main thing we know about it.
Perfume is sexily putting lipstick on your already made-up face.
Perfume is an acute case of diamond foot.
Perfume is holding a bottle of perfume behind your back but not spraying it; that’s what really makes perfume perfume: restraint.
Perfume is doing a model walk straight through the middle of a party but not stopping to talk to any of the guests, because where is that perfume?
Perfume is riding through a field on a white horse that has literally never pooped.
Perfume is a long silk rope hanging from the ceiling in the world’s fanciest gym class.
Perfume is having Julia Roberts’s big smile but refusing to flash it because you know a smelly secret.
