I hated Angel.
Then I was walking with some friends one day, and I smelled patchouli. I said, "Who's wearing patchouli?"
"I'm not wearing anything."
I kept insisting. Soon, both of them smelled it, too.
After a lengthy discussion, one of them admitted that she had borrowed some clothes from a friend.
"All of the clothes she gave me smell like that," said my friend.
Apparently the woman had doused herself in Angel.
O.K. I like Angel.