Because Strange Women usually start out as strange little girls.
And most of us grew up wishing that wasn’t so.
Once you’re grown up and it’s safe, everybody wants to say they were the strange kid. But we can tell. Something about the eyes. Or your hair. If you still can’t get your own hair to look exactly right, we can tell you were one of us—a strange kid who survived.

Because other children can smell strangeness. Like dogs can smell fear. (Children can also smell fear, which I have been told smells like bacon and eggs.) It can be a very lonely childhood.

Can be. Some of us get horses.

Because: Yes. Happiness has a smell and every horsey girl knows it:

Fresh-mown clover and curing hay, clean wood shavings, well-worn leather, the earthy, odd fragrance of drying manure, and—perhaps most especially—that secret, perfect, warm and dusty scent that lives in the soft, slightly rubbery spot behind a horse’s nostrils.

And there is no better perfume for a strange girl:

Available at Hipique:
Horse Perfume. Roll-On Scent.
And Satin Corset solid perfume in locket-style pendant.