Thinking this might be fairly interesting, a discussion of making your own perfume, a discussion of what kinds of fragrance oils and ingredients to use or something more heady, I looked at one of the forums and found a topic that caught my interest. It was about having one's scent pirated. I naively thought it was about perfume designers (there's probably a term for this, but I don't know it) who have had people steal their original creation, either by someone simulating it, or by someone buying it, diluting it or selling it cheap. No, it was about *wearers* and *consumers* of perfume who seem to think an expensive yet mass-produced scent readily available for public purchase is somehow their "own signature scent." How alpha bitch! I'm sorry, but how on earth can someone claim something as "theirs" when anyone in the world willing to shell out the $$ for it can, and is entitled to, wear it. Look, I've had my original art work and web design copied and pirated, a legitimate complaint. The perfume designer who has had his/her scent copied and pirated would also have a legitimate complaint. But complaining about someone else starting to wear Opium after "you wore it first" is like me complaining that other people are purchasing Photoshop! It's just absurd.
Sorry, honey, if a scent follower (I cannot use the term "scent copier" ... copier implies copyright, and you have no dominion over a scent that you did not create) chaps your hide, you must have a really cushy life.
This is why I do not hang out with women (plural).
Speaking of scent...
A few days ago I was at the post office, and boy did it stink! I didn't know if it was the young man in front of me or the old man behind me (there's something very philosophical about that statement or image, but I don't know what it is, really). It was that horrible alchemy of really bad B.O. combined with cigarettes which creates a demonic entity all its own. Fortunately, I was freshly-scented with Cassini, one of my most favorite scents. I started sniffing my wrist, where the perfume was the most concentrated and easily accessible to my nose. I probably looked odd, standing in line, wrist stuck to my nose, but I didn't care--life's too short to breathe bad air.
And that is why I do not hang out with men (plural).
Labels: Scents, This Boring Life
5 Comments:
I really can't stand that BO/cigarette smell, but I get to smell it every day at work. This odor is quite common and strangely powerful. It's like the supper hero villain of smells. It can never be defeated completely and always survives to return again and again.
Fortunately for me the smell I get comes with a delivery person only once in the morning and then it fades away soon afterwards. I can't imagine having to take it all day long.
Stink!
Supper hero! That's kind of a funny typo...especially for a cook!
i hate old man smell! its like a combo of BO, smokes, and fifty splashes of cheap cologne! do you know how hard it is to get that stink out of a hotel room?
i don't blame you for avoiding women. as a whole, we are a bad lot. except me, of course, because i am perfect! hahahahaha! yeah, right.
you are so right, women are bitches and men are stinky. give me cats and babies any day.
It's women who are a part of a pack...it's the herd mentality. I can deal with them one on one, but when they cluster, that's when it's bad. I guess they lose their fear or something.
A hotel with old man smell would be really gross. Not as bad, but still awful is when you rent or have a loaner car and that odor is there. Ew.
Perfumer...or Parfumier...that's the word I was looking for. Big duh.
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