Back in the day, when fresh water and showerheads were a scarce commodity or nonexistent, folks covered their stank with aggressive oils and unguents that were slightly less overwhelming than the B.O. that comes from weeks of schvitzing and lord knows what else.
God bless the modern age and God bless the bathtub. We don’t have to mask our natural funk with a bucket of Estée Lauder’s newest eau de parfum. I don’t need to know you were in a room…three days after you bombed it with your Prince Matchabelli mushroom cloud. Your Wind Song stays on my mind…and my scent receptors.
Scent is like lingerie; only a chosen few (i.e. not your neighborhood) should have the privilege of experiencing it. A stripper once told me that she wears scented powder when she performs because as her body heats up, the scent is released and only those close to her can smell the faint fragrance. Hot.Not so hot? Dudes doused in cologne. I can smell you too, preening across the room in your spendy CREED aftershave. I was assaulted by Drakkar Noir for pretty much all of the 80s. While all the alcohol in your cologne can be used to sterilize a wound or stoke a fire, it leaves me cold.