“I want a parade/ I want a party/ pink macaroons/ and a million balloons/ and performing baboons/ give it to me now/ I want the world/ I want the whole world/ I want to lock it all up in my pocket/ it’s my bar of chocolate/ give it to me… now!”
–Veruca Salt, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Dear Daddy, Santa Claus, and all of my boyfriends,
I need for you to go to a store that sells Bond No. 9 and buy me the biggest available bottle of their West Side perfume for the bargain price of $185 for 3.4 oz. I need for you also to find some decanting supplies and another, prettier bottle for you to put it into, since the ceramic-star thingy with all the crayola-colored musical clefs on it will obviously just not do; it is fugly, and a sweet lovable girl like me should be surrounded only by pretty presents. And finally and most importantly, I need this to be done as soon as possible, i.e., NOW. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this perfume and if I don’t get it in my hands this exact second I’m going to start an apocalyptically loud and messy cake fight and you, sirs, will be the first to choke on frosting roses. That’s not a threat. Nice adorable little girls in pretty dresses like me don’t make those. We make promises.
Now that we have that out of the way, I’m going to tell you all about why I need Bond No. 9’s West Side. I need it because it’s a rose fragrance and I don’t have one of those yet due to the fact that I don’t really like rose fragrances. Still, I am a collector, and the fact that I have not until now found one I really really wanted (until today!) has long stuck in my luscious, powdered craw.
I have a theory or two about why this rose fragrance works for me when so many others before it have failed. The first one is that if you cover just about anything up with enough whipped cream and marshmallows and vanilla syrup, it’s bound to taste better. The roses in West Side are no different. In this case, they infuse an entire dessert cart full of treats with their fresh, powdery delicacy, cutting all the sweets with a flavor a bit more nouvelle cuisine than anything present in say, Jessica Simpson’s lineup of dessert inspired bath and body products. It smells like the dust left on a mug of hot cocoa made with half and half before you stir it all up properly, but instead of cocoa as the main ingredient, it’s roses.
This makes it so distractingly pretty that I can get through an entire day without having a screaming fit about those tangles in my hair or that grass stain on my white eyelet sundress or the fact that eating broccoli is just one of those things you have to do sometimes. In fact, today, when I was back and forth from the bank to a real live scary check cashing joint to Heather’s house to the drugstore for a money order to the gas company’s headquarters and then back to the bank again after having already been to the bank twice this week, I managed to get through the entire ordeal without doing anything much more drastic than scowling once or twice. As you already know, best behavior is difficult if not impossible for me to uphold under such extreme circumstances. I credit, entirely, Bond No. 9’s West Side. It’s hard to act cranky when you smell good. And gosh, I’d hate it if the fact that I don’t own this perfume yet made me even crankier.
Since I know that nobody wants that, I’m just going to say theeeeeenks! in advance for your kind gift of my new $185 3.4oz bottle of Bond No. 9’s West Side, decanted into a non-fugly bottle, and delivered into my mostly-clean hands at the agreed upon hour of NOW.
Your cake-frosting princess forever,
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