Well, I walked away with the prettiest glass bottle of Chloé perfume. The smell, however, wasn't nearly as nice. But I tried it, just in case. Natalie said, "all wrong" and "too woodsy".

I tried again. My roommates loved it, and so did my boy neighbors. And the woman shopping in Jumelle. And the girl who stopped me on the street today to ask what "divine" scent I was wearing. Even Natalie asked, "Wow, what is that?"

I know scents vary depending on the person, but do they vary on the same person from the first spritz to the third? Did my skin somehow adapt? Is that even possible?

Ruth La Ferla just wrote about bloggers and the dramatic way in which they're changing the fragrance industry. They've cracked open the world of niche perfumes to an audience that's used to learning about new scents in People or the billboard above their gas station, giving giants like Estée Lauder and Coty a mini panic attack.

Natalie is indeed prompted to smell a new perfume based on a positive review whereas I'm influenced by the print ads, (ridiculous, I know). And yet we're both aware it's impossible to form an opinion of a scent without wearing it repeatedly.

If I'd read Chandler Burr's scathing review of the Chloé scent and trusted my initial sniff, I would have kept Chloé as a pretty paperweight. Instead, it's replaced the YSL Homme I've trusted for almost a year.

Do you read scent reviews? How do you determine which perfume is right for you without wearing it for a bit? And more importantly, has an offensive scent ever become your fave?

Every time we read an interview or see a video with Christopher Bailey, we love him even more.

Here, he talks about Burberry of course, but also about his new perfume, The Beat, working with Agyness on the campaign and the privilege of working with David Sims.

And we know you might be sick of her, but we love the way Agyness sounds next to Bailey's tea and crumpets accent.

His all British cast looks more like a super fun party than just another day at work. And with all that energy, maybe Reebok should sign the bubbly model.

If you missed it, or if you don't want to read a 1,200 word article on your monitor, here's the big news:

1. Sometimes, lipstick contains crushed beetles.

2. Sometimes, perfume contains whale puke (sort of.)

But what fun fact did the article totally miss?

Sometimes, perfume contains a note called "civet" which in reality should be called what it is - a French perfume ingredient that comes from the anal gland of the civet cat.

Yes.

And some of the fragrances that contain it? Shalimar, Musc Ravageur and, oh, Chanel No. 5.

Don't believe us? Check out this report from scent master Chandler Burr in an old T: Style for the full story.

I love presents.

But it wasn't a present so much as a product called, "The Present: Clear Makeup."

The label reads, "Do you crave airbrushed skin?" Yes. "Do your wrinkles and pores deserve to appear minimized?" Yes. "Are you searching for a new foundation?" Don't tell Natalie, but yes.

So I stashed it in my purse when she wasn't looking and tried it in my bathroom after my roommates left for work even though it looks just like lotion, so I wasn't technically breaking my no makeup vow.

And now that I've been using it for a week in place of moisturizer, my skin's never looked better. I know I said that last time, but I'm seriously catching up to Natalie's glow.

The only thing that'll get me closer is the salmon and berry diet from Prom Countdown 2002. But that's about a million times harder than slathering some moisturizer on every morning.

But when a friend tipped me off to what she swore was the best face fix on the planet, I had to investigate.

And that's how I found myself wearing heated plastic mittens with my face mummified in clay, and actually wearing cucumber slices on my eyes, basically steaming like asparagus on East 52nd Street at the Mario Badescu Salon.

I'd heard the name before, but only sparingly. You can get their products only in higher-end stores and their Midtown East location is the only place in the world where you can get their facial.

But they seem to be largely ignored by magazines, and now that I've been there myself, I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with their lab-like packaging (doesn't exactly read well next to La Prairie and Dior.)

The experience: Totally clinical, which actually makes you feel less guilty about someone fawning over your face for an hour asking you questions like, "And how often do you scrub?" with the same severity of an oncologist. After your "procedure," you even go to another little room where you sit across the table and are given the run down on your skin's health, what you need to do to change it, and the products that will help you do so - a lot like a post-check-up consultation. The girls even wear all white.

The result? My face looks rather dewy today, and it actually feels clean, which I didn't even know was possible.

And I have to say, getting what is basically a massage for your face? Amazing.

We used to be kind of addicted to serious perfume, but lately, just haven't been into it. We don't know if it's the agony of the choice, or maybe just the aversion to most of what's out there (ever since Paris Hilton came out with a fragrance, we've just never felt quite the same about it,) but recently, we've been trying to smell like...well, ourselves.

But since we don't really smell like anything at all, we've become obsessed with super simple scents - one-noters that are comforting, not confrontational, like those saccharine scents put out by every other pop star.

Our favorite (albeit random) perfume of recent days? Mélange Apothecary's Concrete Parfum in Miel. It's a solid scent (hence the weird name,) so throwing it in your bag isn't at all stupid, and the warm smell of honey sticks to you all day - even though you'll probably end up rubbing more and more onto your wrists while you try to think of clever things at work.

The gel-like line also comes in Tuberose - a scent that is normally super expensive to produce (tons of tuberose flowers are needed to get just a drop of perfume,) but that Mélange keeps at the normal $10 price point. (The line is actually meant for blending, but we like to wear them as separates anyway.)

Now if they'd just print the little pots with flowers, we'd hand them out outside of schools as part of a post-gross scents rehabilitation program for girls.