In bpalanonymous, mad_with_july realizes that acknowledging the problem is the first step...
Purple Phoenix is not going to work on me. Fruit, esp. purple fruit, turns to plastic on me, and florals do not love me. I do not need to snap up somebody's unloved bottle in the hopes it will be the slutty cousin of Montresor.
I do not need to try Torture King. I have lived 31 years quite happily without Torture King, I do not need to buy a bottle of it now just to satisfy my curiosity and my need for retail therapy.
Knecht Ruprecht is the perfect Christmas perfume. My husband, who thinks everything smells like either chocolate or vanilla, loves it and thinks I should bathe in it. I do not need to go in search of a ridiculously high-priced bottle of Skadi.
Three bottles of Drosselmeyer are enough.
Krampus smells like hot dirty sex. I don't need a bottle of hot dirty sex. There's only so many hours in the night.
Lemon hates me. Lemon hates me. Lemon hates me.
The last time I wore High John, the only thing I accomplished was cleaning my house. I can do that without voodoo. I can.
Port Royal disappears in seconds on me. This is not a sign from God that I need two bottles so I may slather MORE.
If I had to sell every scrap of BPAL I own, Arabian Nights would be the last thing to go. The last two times I wore it (very lightly) on airplanes, I got free drinks from a hot flight attendant and chatted up by a cute business-suited type twice my age. It smells like spice markets and magic and gorgeousness, and I SHOULD sell every scrap I own and just buy enough Arabian Nights to wear every day.
I do not need new scents. What I need is HELP.
QWP, Context is contemplating a second mortgage and selling their child for perfume