Tuesday 8 February 2011

Honky Tonk




The nose is an incredibly wise old tool. It quickly alerts the brain to offensive food, delicious wines or alien environments so to ignore the hum that can radiate off your own self is little more than selfish. Living in a city, I am often amazed by peoples lack of respect for their fellow dwellers, whom you might often find shoved up against you on the sardine ride we call the Tube or our London buses, being forced to inhale each others smells and to remain impartial, too polite to tell the guilty party that their honk is not at all pleasing! I'm not just targeting the strong 'natural odours' here but the drowning stench of perfumes and after-shaves, both chic and cheap.
Scents invade other peoples personal space and when that person is not invited to share that 10cm square with you they need to re-consider their spritzing or they are straying into trespassing! territory.
Childhood memories of warm, safe grown-ups, who I wanted to wrap me in their arms, are tied up with the subtlety of a smell that only addressed my senses when I was close. They were scents that didn't smack you between the eyes and leave you unconcious but seemed to add a level of elegance and welcome to the person regardless of their face or dress. 
So now I'm an adult with small people around my legs all day and married to a man who would put Perfume' Grenouille to shame as far as the fine tuning of his nose goes, I am very aware of any scents I use. I stay away from most perfumes or eau de thinga-me-jigs. I have memories of school discos being saturated in a fug of Cacherel' Anais Anais and Loulou. The lurid staying power of Christian Dior' Poison and of course the sickly sweet pong of all things Impulse! For me a body oil is the trick to harbouring those lovely memories and inoffensive wafts. Body creams too but as far as perfumes go take it easy. It's time for low-key, under-the-radar, subtlety. When your next pressed up against a neighbouring traveller, on a hot, unforgiving day just hope they have read this internationally reaching blog! I might have saved you from a sensory nightmare you would never shake off.


my apothecary of nice whiffs.




p.s however, despite all the above I'm pleased Old Spice is still going, just so I could laugh out loud at this brilliant ad -




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Who is this Lady?

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went to st.martins,graduated as a fashion designer, worked in italy, set up my own womenswear label, married a lovely man and then stopped everything (well, almost) to pop out four little boys. have plans. will do.