My guess is that most obsessive perfume samplers have the equivalent of Robin’s purgatory basket. As someone who suffers from chronic indecision, I have a large collection of scents I just can’t decide whether I like or not, separated into a series of elegant “snack-sized” plastic freezer bags. Every couple of months I retrieve all of these baggies and place them on my bed, along with two larger plastic tubs, which house, respectively, fragrances in the current rotation (scents in good standing) and samples that I see every couple of months when I perform this ritual (the tub of no return). I spread the contents of the purgatory bags over my duvet and begin picking through the vials and atomizers, sorting them into piles: judgement rendered, cult favorites that need one more try, scents that have somehow eluded skin-testing. Like Robin, I always end up with a pile of scents that stubbornly resist categorization and tubbing. As my spouse looks on with bafflement and mild disapproval, I return these fragrances to the twilight, limbo land of the snack bag.
The firmer, sterner souls among you probably agree with my husband. With multiple new fragrances being launched every single day, why does anyone bother trying to puzzle out their complicated relationship with one? Well, my problem is that I often prefer the interesting to the simply likable…
For the last couple years, the term “sleeper” has made me think of 
