Palmy by Jennifer Compton
Some injudicious thoughts about this city. Nothing else can be written. I perch in my flat on top of the Square at that dullest hour before dawn, wreathed in Happy by Clinique For Men from Farmers in the Plaza. I lurk in the mirrored department of luxury and when the girls go off to mend their hair and drink tea I spray at random. I love perfume but don't want to smell the same night