It was hot in here, and it’s still warm, so the doors are open and there’s a breeze passing through. Megan is on crutches; she blew out her knee, I didn’t catch how. She seems cheerful nevertheless, and is having a nice conversation with her friends. She is about eight feet from me.
What does the breeze have to do with it? I am upwind of her. I pray for the sorry souls down the bar. I think the lid must have come off her perfume bottle. When she first walked in, I thought that perhaps she had just put her smell on. They can be pretty overpowering at first. But it’s not ‘at first’ anymore. I’m actually relieved that the guy next to her lit a cigarette.
I wonder if smokers tend to lay on the stink more than non-smokers?
Maybe I’m oversensitive. My personal level of hell will be a lot like a Hallmark store. (For the arrogance of thinking I deserve my own personal hell, it will now be a very crowded hallmark store, and all the other shoppers will be attractive, stink of smells made in factories, and be asking me what I think of this cute card with the kitten, with a verse inside something like:
You’re such a very special you,
I can’t believe how much it’s true,
so on this very special day,
I have to say hip hip hooray.)
Where was I? Oh, yeah, odor. Don’t get me wrong, a little bit of the right smell can be very enticing. But a scent should be a whisper – you have to come close to catch it, and when you do it draws you closer still. That’s what makes it so exciting. When you catch that whiff it means you’re getting inside the usual barriers. Your nose is following a delicate trail, instructing your lips where to go next. When applying perrfume, put it lightly where you want to feel your partner’s breath on your skin. Scent, artfully applied, is a chemical instruction manual for the wearer’s body. It’s intoxicating, and it’s sexy.
If I got that close to Megan (not that there’s any chance of that happening anyway – I’m here and she’s there and that’s the way it always is and that’s the way it always will be) my head would explode.
While I’m on the subject of subtlety, perfume, cologne, and what-not are best when they enhance your own scent, rather than cover it up. Megan may be olfactorialy a very attractive woman. If today is any indication, no one will ever know. (There are exceptions to the enhance vs. cover rule, of course. I’ve been an exception myself. I’m under no illusion, however, that dumping a boxcar of cologne over myself will make things any better.)
If you knew me, you’d know that I’m the last one to be giving fashion advice. I am not a stylish man. Perfume is not fashion, however, no matter how it’s marketed. It is a personal statement reserved only for those you care to share it with. Keep that in mind, and maybe I can get through life without my head exploding.
I grew up in the mountains, so I’ve seen snow in May before. Part of me is saying, “Jerry, what the heck’s the big deal?” But it is a big deal. The way the sun is shining off the snow-laden branches, the way the Internet is down so I can’t work, all these things make life special.
I’ll give you a few facts about the place before I give up. The bar itself is of a rich-grained wood and has a nice curvaceousness to it. There are a couple of separate seating areas. One has a fireplace which I’m sure is very popular when the snow is several feet deep outside. Another has bookshelves. The bookshelves have actual books on them. The floors are rough wood, the cieling in the main bar area is wood with large wood beams, and there is wood paneling behind the bar. The wood is light enough that the bar does not feel too dark. I like wood.
