The backstory is here.
The perfume was not purchased from a department store counter, but discovered at a vendor of fine French aromas. There were two varieties that intrigued my jaded nostrils - one had a hint of cedar, and the other something that looked like "laudanum," the famous 19th century soporific, but was actually "Labdanum." The cedar-tinted fragrance was "unisex," the clerk said, and he didn't mean it was popular with eunuchs. So I bought both, thinking I'd wear the fir-based one if she didn't like it.
Same deal with the lingerie! Just kidding. Actually, the story takes a cruel twist here: the box on the shelf next to the item I wanted was wrapped was improperly wrapped, so I didn't get the right perfume. But my wife liked it.
I didn't. But still: success all around, because either the rest of the family forgot they'd asked for a particular thing, or didn't think I'd get it. Child was also thrilled with her gifts - books and software, a fine cry from the 1000-piece pink plastic palaces that comprised a tothood Christmas. I was right: every gift was perfect. Except for the 2 TB hard drive I got my wife; turns out she wanted a sweater. But it will store high-def movies of the sweaters you already own! No good. Women. Who can figure them out?
