According to Charles Panati's Extraordinary Origins of Everyday Things (Harper and Row, 1987), the first antiperspirant was developed in America in 1888. That means that for millennia, mankind's only tool again his nearest and most-pungent enemy was perfume. Instead of stopping the sweat itself, people doused themselves and their infrequently-laundered clothing in fragrance designed to cover the natural odors of their bodies.

Times have changed since then. Mass produced clothing, automatic washing machines and antiperspirants help keep our sweatiness in check. Running water in our homes means that we are at liberty to bathe every day, perhaps even more frequently, and bar soap is easily procured at a multitude of shops that are open 24 hour a day. We have progressed to the point where perfume is no longer strictly necessary to keep from offending our fellow humans. And yet, the manufacture and sale of fragrance, in any number of forms, remains a hugely profitable business. The question then arises, why?

Some people still may use perfumes to cover another, seemingly less pleasant smell. For example, it's not uncommon for smokers to spritz on a little cologne to cover the scent of cigarette smoke. For the vast majority of perfume buyers, however, there must be some other motivation.

I ask these questions because I, not surprisingly, have absolutely no idea why anyone would choose to wear fragrance of any kind. It seems to me that our ancestors have gone to no small amount of trouble to ensure that we never have to smell anything on our persons ever. In fact, I take great pride in being as odorless as possible at all times. I use unscented soap, unscented antiperspirant, and scent-free laundry detergent. I wept small, scentless tears of joy when I learned Vaseline Intensive Care makes an unscented body lotion. If they ever see fit to produce a fragrance-free shampoo, I shall be first in line to purchase it. You might say my whole adult life has been a battle to slough off all remnants of artificial perfume. And you would largely be correct in this assertion.

However, this is the Year of Living Girlishly, and my comfort is secondary. Even though it is my preference to smell like absolutely nothing but me, I have just wrapped up a grueling month experimenting with various perfumes. I spent hours wondering the fragrant halls of Sephora and the Body Shop, sniffing countless smelly potions, all in an attempt to find even the smallest clue to their girlish appeal. I hope that you find the following report informative and amusing, because wearing perfume? Stinks.

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