Ahh, Daisy. Do you realize that you’ve become practically iconic, as the scent for the under-twenty-five set in the 2000’s? Are you aware that, when anyone in said age bracket walks into the fragrance section of a department store or a Sephora, they’re instantly bombarded with samples of you, and your new sister, Lola?


Well, it’s true. You’re the popular girl that everyone loves. I bet you’d even wear a purity ring, if you were human. And you’d certainly be a natural light-brunette with blonde hilights from the sun.

But here’s the catch: popular girls are rarely interesting. You’re fresh, you’re fun, and you’re green — but you’re no rule-breaker. For a beginner getting into fragrance, you have a certain appeal: in a world so full of fruity florals and squeaky-clean fresh scents, your greenery is new and enticing. But soon the greenery becomes too familiar; it becomes the beautiful city you’ve lived in for so long you can no longer see its beauty. 


I managed to develop an attatchment to you, to your bright grin. But there is nothing in it for me anymore but memories and nostalgia: now the green just makes me think “allergies,” and the sunny yellow “human liquid waste” (indeed, I went there, and I did it poetically.)


Oh, and Daisy, my love? Please don’t take offense. I do think you’re a wonderfully constructed fragrance, and you make me smile. However, this is only ever shortly before you put me straight to a deep sleep.