This stinks

This paragraph is taken from one of my favorite blogs. She paints quite a striking olfactory picture.

Here's my game for you: Read the paragraph, and guess the location.

The air is thick with the smell of hair grease, fortified wine tinged sweat, unwashed body, clothes that haven’t been changed in months, perhaps years, wet wool, and that curious metallic odor of mental illness. It is a heady symphony of odors both acrid and cloying and it permeates your nostrils, your clothes, your hair and your memory. The odors overwhelm our HVAC system and I could make a case that the odor situation is becoming an OSHA issue.

Here's a hint: it's her workplace.

She continues her musings:

Smells are life. I enjoy rich, pungent odors: Morbier cheese, the carcinogenic smell of gasoline when I fill up my car, the odor of books burning and decomposing from acid treated paper, the smell of mulch, horse sweat when I worked at the stables, but I often wish I could shut my nostrils like I do my eyes. That way I wouldn’t have had to endure at an old job a colleague who doused herself with some cheap, chemical perfume that clawed at my nostrils and choked my throat. I could never identify the brand, but I’m suspecting one of those awful ones named after a celebrity, like J-Lo. How depressing that anyone buys that shit.

The answer.