I’ve been a part of the world’s oldest profession for more than half of my life (hold on, Mom, let me explain). You know how some women are committed to, say, Chanel No. 5 or Nina Ricci L’Air du Temps? It has long been their signature scent; they are loyal to it; and they would never ever stray. Well, a-hem, I’m just not wired that way. I’ve tried many, many different ones on for size. I’m always willing to experiment. I get bored very easily. I’m never faithful, always fickle, and ready for a fling with the next new thing.

Out of all of your senses, smell (a.k.a. “olfacoception”) is apparently the most powerful. Scents influence your memory, alter your moods, define your personality, and affect your love life. Fragrance selection is therefore such an intimate, personal choice. It becomes part of your wardrobe, setting the tone for your day and your nocturnal pursuits. I, for one, enjoy a light spritz before going to bed and feel naked without it.

So please don’t be shocked, but here’s only a partial list of bold-faced names I’ve slept with:

• Annick Goutal Eau d’Hadrien (first rendezvous in Paris)
• Trish McAvoy Snowdrop & Crystal Flowers (made me feel special)
• YSL Paris (referred by a lady friend)
• Angel by Thierry Mugler (way too intense)
• Bobbi Brown Beach (hooked up for an endless summer)
• Gucci Envy (saw in a magazine and had to have it)
• Stella McCartney (lingered around in the morning)
• Prada Infusion d’Iris (we definitely had some chemistry)
• Chanel No. 19 (always had an inferiority complex)

Scent of a woman

I even had a foursome with Fresh, involving Sugar, Sugar Lemon, Pink Jasmine, and Mangosteen in one torrid stretch. I TOLD you I get around. I’ve always been like this, starting in high school when I couldn’t stay true to Calyx and had a brief dalliance with Trésor.

Now I should clarify, I think I’m actually more of a serial monogamist. Currently, I’m entertaining just two options, both by Jo Malone London: French Lime Blossom, and English Pear and Freesia.

But I occasionally do both at the same time—you know how kinky the Brits can be.

Helpful hint: If you want a really twisted story about perfume, read Patrick Suskind’s book Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. It will blow your mind.