Zooey Purdy, an Innovation Engineer in the R29 tech department, has something she'd like to get off her chest. Prepare to deal with it.
Judge me all you want, but I wear Paris Hilton perfume, and I smell great.
Actually, the celebutante’s namesake fragrance has been my signature scent since college. See, one day, someone put a bunch of boxes of unwanted stuff out in the dormitory hallway — one with a collection of various perfumes in it. While my friend rifled through the box of books, I started testing out each perfume. One particular scent caught my nose — a blend of frozen apple, peach nectar, freesia, mimosa, jasmine, sandalwood, ylang ylang, and oak moss. I was entranced.
Even though I tend to dress on the minimalist, androgynous side, I have this soft spot for girly, fruity scents. I like to think they give everyone a whiff of my bubbly, sweet, girlish inner self. (Who knew that existed?)
After inhaling the scent of a lifetime, I made a closer inspection of the bottle and, in particular, its shiny, metallic, hot-pink box. With silver lines roaming all over it, it came with its own cardboard sleeve featuring a large photo of a certain provocatively posed semi-celebrity and her name embossed in large silver script in about six different places — Paris Hilton.
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