An old boyfriend once brought me back a wonderful little black bottle of Joy by Jean Patou.  It was a tiny bottle of the purest perfume and probably cost him alot.  Within a matter of days I managed to knock it over and spilt most of it on my dressing table. This (fortunately) happened when he had disappeared on his next overseas stint and as such I never did confess what I’d done.  Our bedroom smelt absolutely wonderful for ages…

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