I wore only three things in 1994: Timberland hiking boots, a Betsey Johnson sundress suitable for Lolita, and a plaid flannel. It made sense in 1994, trust me. As far as I was concerned, I had found the look I’d keep for the rest of my life. You don’t tell a girl who just tweezed off 90 percent of her eyebrows that trends will eventually pass.
I was in college then, and I didn’t wear perfume. The way I saw it, the only thing missing from my identity was a signature scent. But which one? I wasn’t an Eau de Toilette No. Whatever person. I needed a fragrance that could throw shade and maybe a touch of irony on all the wispy florals in my closet. Something that told the world I drove a stick shift (I could), possibly had an arrest record (I did), and knew how to change the oil (yeah … no).
