The answer to all the above questions is no. I left the drugstore with nothing but shampoo and a box of Q-tips. None of the fragrances really struck me as the sort of thing I'd want on my body all the live-long day. Undeterred, I set off for the most girlish boutique in my neighborhood and resolved to buy the first perfume that didn't make me want to wretch. After half an hour of diligent sniffing, I settled instead on the one with the coolest name. That would be Yogi Master by Mojo Spa.

Mojo Spa's website assures me that if I am sensitive to smells, Yogi Master is perfect for me. I tend to disagree. The fragrance is pleasant and all; it just wouldn't go away. Worst of all, I had the paranoid notion that everyone could smell me. People seemed to look at me differently, and in their furtive glances I could almost hear them thinking, “good grief, why is she wearing so much perfume?”

Little did I know that Yogi Master is a smell so mild and inoffensive few could detect it even with my wrist thrust beneath their noses. Responses ranged from, “it's nice, I guess,” to, “it smells like soap,” to, “why are you shoving your wrist in my face?” Maybe that smell was fading too quickly.

Well, I learned from a number of perfume-related websites that a good way to make sure your fragrance doesn't fade is to apply it to your lower body as well as the traditional wrist and neck pulse points. That nearly made me faint, so strong was the smell. Yet still, not one person noticed without prompting.

With two weeks of scenting under my belt, I figured I was ready for a trip to Sephora, a vast clearing house of cosmetics and fragrances from every imaginable source. I was very, very wrong. Even walking through the door I knew I was out of my league. Should I start with the floor-to-ceiling racks lining the walls, or tackle the stout line of displays in the middle of the room? After daring to inhale the full force of Sephora's smell, I decided to run right up the gut.

The first aisle I came upon held an array of body sprays and pocket-sized perfumes with pithy names like “Jasmine” (which smelled like plastic), “Lagoon” (which smelled exactly as advertised) and “Sky” (which smelled like a toilet). I moved on quickly to the designer brands, but alas I found most of them overwhelmingly strong. I did sniff one body spray that was a bit like pomegranate, and I didn't totally hate it. But honestly, why would I spend $60 to not hate what I smell like? I can do that for free.

I'm not a quitter, though, so I marched straight down the street to the Body Shop to sample their perfumed oils. By this time, I'll admit that my nose had gone a wee bit haywire. I couldn't really smell enough to determine if I liked them or not. What I did learn is that oils last approximately 500 times longer than regular old perfumes. I had to wash my hands five or six times to remove the strange collage of sninkiness. Once again, I failed to make a fragrance purchase.

The last stop on my aroma parade was my local Whole Foods. I thought maybe I could find something natural, because nature rarely ever makes me want to vomit. I selected a small vial of vanilla-musk. It the bottle, it smelled clean and fresh. The vanilla wasn't too strong and the musk gave it just the right kind of kick. On my skin, it smelled and felt as though someone had stuffed a paint gun full of sugar cookie dough and repeatedly shot me with it.
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