The Slumber Party Edict

Sadly, the slumber party went exactly the way I planned it to. My loyal legion of girlfriends turned up with pajamas and pampering potions, and we settled in for a night of girl talk. It didn’t take long for the subject to turn to my dilemma with Bruce, and the deep philosophical questions it raised. Was Bruce shutting me out, making him unable to smell my signature scent? Should I change who I am (as embodied so fragrantly in Eau de Loulou) for a man with a hideous orange shirt? At what point does a girl begin to lose her identity? Why do so many women wear perfumes named after other women, like Celine and J. Lo? And which female celebrity would be next: Lil’ Kim? Barbara Walters? We swayed and swooned over the scent of Lovely and rejoiced in the demise of unisex scents. All of this talk led to one thing: I would have to end my relationship with Bruce. Clearly, I had no alternative. This subject is too important to casually dismiss. Normally, I am very open-minded when it comes to men. For example, I don’t care whether a guy’s wealth comes from a successful, high profile career or a successful, high profile family. I don’t care if his hair is light or dark, as long as it’s gorgeous. I don’t care if he prefers Gucci or Prada, as long as he avoids Versace. And he can listen to any music he wants, as long as I like it. But he cannot be immune to the charms of my signature scent…