Oh. Lord; I just got a flashback from a past life:
San Diego, 1967; I got assigned late night shore patrol downtown. I never experienced as much weird in a year as during that one night. I just remembered the gal, perhaps a rather badly worn fortyish, we met just as we crossed a street. The only specific part of her slutty outfit that I remember for sure was the leopard skin micro skirt. The total scrap of nasally squaked conversation with her companion that I caught:

       "I feel that rubbing a little on the inside of my thighs makes me sexier".

Forgive me, Lizzy; I am not, not, not either thinking or implying that you are anything like that. I don't even know for certain that she was referring to perfume.