I picked up the innocuous white box.
It smelled almost unnoticeably like cardboard.
I took it upstairs.
With a little trepidation, I sliced the packing tape seals with a pair of scissors, revealing twenty balls of innocent-looking yarn packed neatly in two plastic bags. I briefly noted that perhaps I didn’t like that shade of ecru.
Still no discernible aroma.
I opened the first of the two bags and stuck my head inside (kids, don’t try this at home). Yes, there was that sour smell, which reminded me of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Then I remembered.
The Zara smells like kimchi.