Country Chic

September 9, 2023

I’ve had the same bottle of perfume since 2011. It probably cost me $6.99 at Bath and Body Works or maybe even less if I got it on sale at Christmas time. It’s called “Country Chic” and I honestly couldn’t tell you what it actually smells like. It smells like Fall to me…but like, not in any way I can identify. I don’t wear perfume very often (hence the longevity of my single 12 oz bottle), but it seems that every time I do, someone comments on how nice my Country Chic smells. I can remember sitting outside at Coastal Flats (a very mediocre Great American Restaurant in Fairfax County that has an excellent cosmopolitan martini) on a third or fourth date with my ex and the waitress commented on how lovely my perfume was. I felt really proud. I had a fake boyfriend in graduate school who thought my perfume had a stupid name and loved to call it “Country Chick”. When I was getting ready to go out, he’d lower his voice and say “I GOTTA HAVE MY COUNTRY CHICK” and I would giggle and giggle. Honestly, it was a good 7 dollar purchase….notably back when 7 dollars was a lot of money to me on my $14,000 per year graduate school stipend. Back then, I lived in a nice little apartment that had yellow appliances from the 90’s and was infested with giant wolf spiders – who became my loving companions in that home. I had a $299 couch that I bought on credit from the Lexington Overstock Warehouse – and as life is, I’ve spent my adult life searching heaven and earth (with a much more generous budget) for a couch that is as soft and comfy as the bargain sofa I had back then. I was so proud of my little one bedroom apartment in a quiet spot just past Richmond Road (just outside of New Circle, for my Lexington homies) and I had my first kiss EVER from a man named Brent on that warehouse sofa. Adult shit. Country chic.

I had a man over for dinner the other night (please don’t worry, he has since lost interest and I’ll never see him again), and he smelled good. I told him so and he launched into a very long monologue about his cologne collection. He has a clean, crisp scent that he wears at work and a bolder, more “saucy” scent for dates and nights out at the club. He apparently has friends who seek his counsel for cologne purchases – it’s his thing. I get it, we all have our things that we care about. My thing is earrings. I pride myself on my fun and vast earring collection, and like to tell myself that I have absolutely flawless taste when it comes to ear decor.

Anyway, the conversation turned toward me and he asked me what kind of perfume I wear. I told him about my Country Chic and he threw his head back with laughter. I stared at him, my fork frozen in front of my mouth (Shake n’ Bake porkchop floating midair like a little delicious drone). He shook his head, “I’m sorry to laugh, I just thought someone who makes as much money as I assume you do would have a nice perfume collection.” I told him about my attachment to the little bottle that has traveled with me to 4 new homes over the last decade and about all of the compliments. “Yeah you always smell very nice, but like…what would happen if you tried something different?”

Shit. He’s right. My therapist says this to me all the time. If you read my last blog post, you saw what a tizzy I was in when I had to go see a new hairdresser. I walked away from my appointment with Sabrina, who was so so lovely, initially believing that I really did not enjoy my visit with her. After some reflection, I realized that I actually enjoyed my visit immensely while simultaneously lamenting the fact that is was different. Her hands felt so different from Liz’s when she was shampooing my head…but not…bad different. Just different. My blowout looked different when I walked out…but it was so pretty. CHANGE IS SO ANNOYING AND AWESOME.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up in Ulta, trying out every fancy perfume they had. It was an agonizing experience. It was like I walked into the store with $100 earmarked for “try something different”. I kept thinking about all the times I’ve been nauseated in elevators and Ubers by perfumes and colognes that overpowered the air around me. I threw up once on the steps of Ford’s Theatre in DC because of the combination of one bad headache and one Uber driver who had bathed in cologne before he left his house. I’m sure people saw me wretching on the street in my fancy dress, and thought “what a shame that the young lady mixed tequila and whiskey so early on a Tuesday evening.” I don’t want to be that person who leaves a smell behind in creaky elevators in old government buildings. I don’t want to make people vomit in front of National landmarks.

Okay, so I may have been overthinking it. I finally bought a nice bottle of perfume. I won’t tell you the name of it here because this is HASHTAG: NOT AN AD. I really like putting it on before work. Something about the ritual is nice – the deliberate way I apply it carefully to the spots that google instructed me, careful to avoid over application makes me feel elevated and fancy for the work day. I almost understand why my date was dribbling on and on about his cologne (she said un-ironically as she dribbled on and on in her blog). But honestly, I woke up this morning and curled my hair for a day out at breweries with my friend and reached for my tried and true Bath and Body Works bottle. I guess you can take the girl out of the country but you can’t take Country Chic out of the girl.