Keep your fake baby powder, sickos

As Brian and I sat in the audience of Sydney's choir concert the other night, we were assaulted by the odor emanating from the three-person family sitting in front of us. You'd probably assume I mean body odor or garlic or something gross like that, but you'd be wrong. Instead, it was the overpowering scent of fake baby powder smell. You know, like the baby powder scent they spray into cars at car washes? Yes, it was exactly that smell.
The odor was so strong that it was inescapable, and the seats were so close that we really couldn't tell which of the group it was. I suspect the mom, but I'm really not sure. The dad or grandfather looked old enough to be bathing in the stuff.
Whenever the air circulated in the auditorium, the odor would invade my senses intensely, and a couple times I even coughed. It was that strong. Also, I hate the smell of fake baby powder. There wasn't anyplace for us to move, and the show was going to be relatively short, so it didn't make sense to move at that point. But really, it was terrible.