A few years ago, on a trip to NYC, I bought the Harrods Fragrance from Bond No. 9 as a present for someone. It was far too expensive for a college student, but the smell and design of the bottle had me in it's grasp, so I handed over my debit card to the woman behind the counter. Funny how debit and debt are but one letter apart, no? Anyways, holding the bag with the bottle safely inside, I couldn't help but linger in the store, smelling the others. I fell in love with the bottle pictured below, Astor Place; it smells light, but has a slightly musky note that grounds it more than other lighter perfumes. I held the beautiful bottle in my hand and stared, long and longingly, at the colorful star-shaped glass.
I put the bottle down with a gentle clink. The saleswoman, seeing that I couldn't bring myself to make another purchase, reached underneath the counter. When her hand emerged, I saw nestled in her palm ten colorfully wrapped cylinders. She handed them to me, "here," she said. "Astor place samples. Enjoy them."
I put a dab on from my last remaining sample this morning.