When the latest brief from your editor begins “Do you have access to a pound shop?”, you know you’re in trouble. When that brief then goes on to suggest you spend a week wearing “fragrances” you find in the aforementioned pound shop your heart sinks, and you might have a little cry at your desk. However, when said editor then suggests you enlist the help of your partner, meaning you can torture him a little in the process, well, you can’t really refuse, can you? You can, however, bear a grudge. Just sayin’ …
Anyway, the challenge was to spend £14 in the "poundshop of our choice", on seven female fragrances, and seven masculine fragrances, wear one (each) every day for a week, and report back on our experiences. So here we are. I think I have my vision back now. However, I’ll never be able to show my face in the local poundshop ever again.
We head off to a rather fancy poundshop in Fulham (dahlings), it’s clean and light and airy, but we’re initially surprised that they don’t appear to have any fragrances. Turns out they’re not actually with the beauty products, because they are, of course, by the household cleaning products, leading one to speculate darkly on the very nature of what it is we’re about to do. We find the stash, full of what are obviously designer fragrance knock-offs, remaindered ends of legitimate high street brand scents, and generic “fragrances”. It’s rather depressing. Luckily, there are no testers, so we don’t get a chance to frighten ourselves utterly out of the challenge before we even begin. The checkout assistant offers us a couple of pitying looks whilst she’s putting the fragrances through, and I can tell she’s obviously wondering what kind of horrific disease we’re both suffering from that require us pickling ourselves in PoundWorldLand’s finest scents.
His Observations: Ugh. I spend slow years being weaned away from Lynx Africa, only to be dragged back past and beyond that to PoundLandWorld’s finest. I ask myself just what sort of cruel and horrific person would ask me to do such a thing but, upon reflection, it strikes me that both the Basenotes editor and my lovely partner herself fit the bill precisely. That’s one of the great questions about the universe answered, then. Cursing my pliability, I dragged myself into the pound shop and picked out my fragrances with an air of resignation… (editor’s note: MrLippie was bribed with vodka to take part in this challenge – he’s no martyr)
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