When I was in elementary school, we had a very fashionable guidance counselor who could be spotted from miles away, due to the clicking of her super-high heels on the linoleum and the overwhelming scent of her perfume. For years I actually tried to emulate Miss Helen’s heel clicking: ga-bum-click, ga-bum-click , but I couldn’t pull it off without looking like Elaine Benes doing her “little kicks” dance. Her legendary perfume cloud, however, is something I’ve always tried to avoid, as I have distinct memories of other girls in my second grade class frowning and holding their noses and arguing that our good counselor should really be known as “Miss Smellin.” Over…
