Vanille Abricot Comptoir Sud Pacifique 1994

After sniffing Comptoir Sud Pacifique’s Vanille Abricot for the first time again in 20 years, I feel like a clever child-villain has dosed me with some sort of pixie-stick poison. They’re skipping away merrily as I sink to the floor, my lungs disintegrating under the assault of Marshallow Meltdown, a bioweapon based on the classic confectionary formula wherein a foam made up of air suspended in a super-saturated liquid sugar mixture is stabilized by gelatin, but in this version, a team of elite evil scientists have whipped in classic plastic 1980s Strawberry shortcake doll parts and expired cans of Del Monte fruit cocktail instead. The resulting vat of goop undergoes a proprietary crystallization process and the lurid glowing shards are then crushed to a dust, which when viewed under a microscope, resembles tiny Barbie-Pink ninja throwing stars. This fatal powder is the preferred method of dispatchment used by tiny assassins who whisper BYE BOOMER as they toodle away. "But I’m GEN X" you gasp weakly as you lose consciousness under the terrible onslaught of the smell.