Made for Women Bruno Banani 2011

I wore this scent on one of my very first dates. Both turned out to be a debacle, the date and the fragrance. I was already in the city, on my way to the ice cream parlor where the meeting was supposed to take place, when I realized that I hadn't applied any perfume at home. Young and eager to impress Mr. X, I quickly rushed into the nearest drugstore - there wasn't enough time for a perfume shop - and fought my way through the limited selection there. I didn't want to spend too much money, after all, the risk of a bad purchase was high, so in my haste, I just sprayed three or four perfumes on a whim. Bruno Banani seemed fresh, fruity, and somewhat seductive at first spray. It was hot, and I didn't want to scare my date away with a heavy perfume hammer; besides, I figured he was the kind of guy who liked sporty, fresh scents. Even during the date, which turned out to be an absolute disaster, I could no longer stand the fragrance. It was stiflingly hot in the ice cream parlor, and I felt like I was simmering in my own sticky, artificial, cloyingly sweet perfume cloud. Nothing came of Mr. X and me, thankfully. The unintentionally pink, unfortunately still full bottle stood on my nightstand for what felt like an eternity, drawing my resentment as a perpetual reminder of the botched date. The fact that the pink Mr. Banani and I couldn't become friends was not due to the negative memories associated with it, but rather the cheap, synthetic sweetness that I couldn't stand even back then. I had to look up what was even supposed to be in it. Blackberry? I couldn't recognize that for the life of me. A fruit or flower is fundamentally unrecognizable; it's just one big, artificial mishmash. I continued to use the perfume reluctantly for occasions where it didn't really matter how I smelled (family visits, sports --> as long as I didn't stink) and then used the rest as a room fragrance, for spraying letters or similar nonsense, just to avoid throwing the bottle away and admitting my bad purchase. When the pink pest was finally empty, I was glad. Today, I stumbled upon a photo of Mr. X on a (so-called) social network, and the smell of Bruno Banani rose up in me again. I just had to get this comment out.