Boasting a smörgåsbord of delectable notes sure to coddle any gourmand afficionado in a fluffy embrace with marshmallow, strawberry, and cocoa, I was certain that Alrehab’s Choco Musk Marshmallow would welcome me with pink, tacky arms. Curiously, though... First spray yields a vaguely synthetic sweetness absorbed within a distinctly peppery blast, but the combination never quite manages to coalesce into what I would call ‘marshmallow’. What gives?

An earlier episode of Kamiina Botan, Yoeru Sugata wa Yuri no Hana features its titular lush, all befuddlement as a relative novice to the delights of alcohol, struggle to articulate the notes dancing across her tongue beyond their barest essentials. Sweet, sour; black, white; up, down; yes, no. Kamiina’s crush, the liquor connoisseur all too eager to share this world with her, observes that it is only through time and experience where one finds themselves becoming acquainted with more imaginative means of describing what they are facing.

Fragrances are no different – at this point in my journey, Choco Musk Marshmallow comes across like pepper and artificial sweetener, and I would struggle to elaborate beyond that. I have heard that the oil equivalent is pleasant in comparison, though, so perhaps I ought to seek that ought?

Spot patches – we know ‘em, love ‘em, saunter into supermarkets all conspicuously placed yellow stars dotting foreheads. Hearing that one bottle of The Ordinary’s, in hindsight obviously, way too good to be true Sulfur Powder to Cream contained the equivalent of 150 spot patches had me taking one last, lingering look at my beloved Cosrx stack as if bidding them farewell.

Despite what immaculately shot short-form content may have one believe, application is disastrous. Nightmarish. A call to laundry arms, as you need to be practically horizontal to apply this without getting powder everywhere – and even then, if you’re wearing a darker garment? In seconds you’ll regret that but the worst has yet to come. Patting up a storm to release its creamy properties had your befuddled webmistress wondering if she had tossed enough of the hellish substance on, but following The Ordinary’s recommend method – patting the powder then applying - didn’t work either.

It would be something if the gruelling process had a tangible effect in reducing the unsightly visitor, but of course – it did not. Cosrx my beloved, I should have never forsaken thee.

This does not smell like creamy vanilla. It reeks of cheap microwave popcorn that one left in for half a minute too long, and takes even longer to disappear. Longevity is impressive, certainly, but everyone who has smelled this one had their features instinctively warp.

In desperate need of spot patches, all sweat-drenched brow and wild eyes I stormed the usual local discount retailer all but praying at the alter of ye olde acne gods to have Cosrx’s tried-and-tested iteration in stock. Though it wasn’t (sobs), I did pick up a set of Catch Me Patch’s soothing patches.

Boasting an impressive number of ninety patches at a reasonable price point, it seemed too good to be true. And, well, it was. They aren’t particularly great at drawing gunk out, and tend to peel off. Stick with what you know, and all that.

“Y’know, I do like baths and working on my body” thought your mystified webmistress, gazing at a Bath & Body Works store with all the gravitas of someone armed with a a yaoi paddle. That first trip culminated in my being tossed about by the relentless tide that is Lunchtime Rush Hell™, eyeing a sea of cherry blossom and vanilla with palpable longing; swept away into the crowd with an almost mournful “until next time, then”. When that next time did arrive one early morning, the store was… practically empty?!

Strawberry Pound Cake ended up being the first fragrance mist to capture my attention, with its Y2K-esque bubble stylings and dreamy pastel hues. Though some may find its fresh and fruity tones a touch cloying, it envelops me in a sea of velvety strawberry ice cream, all vivid pinks with fresh, glistening chunks strewn about. A luscious, dreamy scent that I sometimes spritz on before bed, all sweet strawberry reveries.

Kwailnara’s utterly delectable food-inspired body cleanser range has earned pride of place in all matter of rose-filtered, low-saturated GRWMs. Recalling a glimpse of the strawberry staple once upon a clock app scroll, I wandered into the usual discount retailer. Its signature pink caught my eye, but what truly piqued my curiousity was a splash of brown. Coffee…?!

Unbothered by the prospect of reeking like I’d stumbled out of a café, syrup-stained apron and imaginary beans rattling around the depths of pockets, I grabbed it without so much as a furtive review search. Leaving a curious white cast which disappears soon after, it reveals a dreamy hazelnut latte scent. Doesn’t last as long as it could, but I’m sure there are ways to preserve that which I’ll look into. Eventually. Maybe.

Entranced by creamy foam slathered across glistening limbs gracing my clock app’s feed (and perhaps, stomach audibly rumbling, craving a milkshake), I picked up Sundae’s Very Vanilla Whipped Shower Foam. The notion of whipped shower foam struck me as novel, and though I can’t quite shake the suspicion that I’m immersed in a full-body shave ritual, the act of foaming up your limbs in such a manner gives me a kick each and every time.

A soft, faint vanilla vanishes not too long after towelling off, fading entirely within an hour or so. Possibly best enjoyed within a ‘collaborative’ context.

Amidst Universal Pictures’ suspiciously systematic attempt at recapturing Barbie’s pizazz through targeting audiences with Ariana Grande plastered all over their walls, I found myself meandering into Lush, lured by their latest seasonal curiosities. Drawn to the Wicked section, I took a hesitant sniff of its Green Shower Elixir. Despite the olfactory cacophony threatening to overwhelm whenever one darkens a Lush branch’s door, through the glittery haze of bath bombs faint citrus notes called out due to the presence Brazilian orange oil. Clutching a medium-sized bottle-cum-enchanted artifact, I all but floated home on a broomstick.

In practice, I feel less like a figure embroiled in all matter of sociopolitical upheaval and more like a sweet left rattling around a Quality Street tin come January; all artificial fondant and ooey, gooey regret. The bottle now haunts my bathroom, all but certainly casting a hex for my cracking aye-is your-xxx-green jokes all those months back. Am desperately trying to use the bottle up but it never ends. Perhaps I truly have been cursed…?!