Damn you, patchouli! I cannot stomach your musky stink one minute longer. Much like peach schnapps (a long story involving a pint bottle, a frat party, and an acid-wash jean skirt), a whiff of you makes me throw up a little in my mouth. While this isn't a good thing in any situation, it's especially bad, since I really need to breathe through my mouth to avoid you as much as possible.
I was recently on a plane and a couple of old-school hippies were seated next to me. They were ripe. While they ordered up milk and nibbled on the fruit they brought along, I aimed the vent right at my nose and tried my best to sleep. But my puny olfactory sense is no match for your mighty stench. What's worse, if I brush against anything with you on it, your funk spams itself all over me and I can't get it off. Can you imagine my nausea-laced mortification when I bumped into someone doused in patchouli right before an important meeting? It didn't take long for Eau de Woodstock to assault the senses. I was trying to impress and I smelled like Haight-Ashbury during a heat wave.
To those fans of ratchouli, let me just say that dabbing on an overpowering fragrance in lieu of bathing only works for the French. Do you really think you can cover up your stank with this horrid scent? Do you think smelling like Matthew McKindamusk will reel in the ladies? Are you trying to brand yourself as a free spirit, an anti-establishment hippie? Newsflash, Sunshine Rainbow Quinoa, you're trying to fit in by wearing comfort sandals and reeking of patchoupee, just as much as if you were wearing the latest trend or spritzing yourself with a designer fragrance.
What to do? The answer is blowin' in the wind—downwind, that is.
I think a full-body glycolic peel—the more chemicals the better—is in order to exfoliate that shit down the drain. Perhaps I'll follow up with a tomato juice bath to neutralize any lingering skunk. Then I'll douse you with the latest Prada cologne and stuff you into a suit and pointy-toed shoes. Now that you're presentable, prepare for punishment. My daisy-fresh friends and I will form a circle around you and pummel you with hacky sacks, while alternately spraying aerosol deodorant and room freshener in your general direction.
(photo: Chronicle/Deanne Fitzmaurice)