In Memoriam: Impulse O2


Lauren Oakey remembers the real smell of teen spirit


My ill-fated decision to join the school hockey team, on the understanding that I’d never have to do swimming again, is brought cruelly to mind every time I smell Impulse O2. The sickeningly sweet body spray that made you smell like you’d been pelted with 100 halved limes and then set alight, was a constant presence in our changing rooms, mixing really horribly with the teenage sweat and mud-caked trainers that hung around in Tesco carrier bags between wears. O2 had the unfortunate quality of being super long-lasting, and hung around long after you’d pretended to shower and were sitting in double maths wondering if it would hurt much if you threw yourself out of the window. I can forgive O2 for one thing though, and that was its unique ability to disguise the smell of a cheeky Lambert for you and up to four others on the walk home from the school bus stop. 

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