It's not really Hermie's perfume, it's Hermes, or Airmissss (drag out the "s" and look snobbish when you say it). They make those $7,000.00 handbags that don't even have cocaine in them. I accidentally bought an overpriced serving of their bottled luxury when I stepped into the Very Expensive Department Store yesterday to warm up.I should know at my stage of life how to handle this sort of situation; meaning that I should keep moving briskly, and, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, avoid eye contact. Following my successful negotiation of the handbag and cosmetic sections, I got sucked right into the perfume counter.
I could pretend that I was seized by some kind of proustian recall, triggered by the wafting fragrance getting my hippocampus all atwitter; however I really was just scared of the saleslady. Well, I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She really liked me. Really. She told me she could tell I had excellent taste, and of course any woman with my skills of discrimination should be wearing her stank, because it is the finest in all the land. So even though it smells like feline urine impregnated damp wool, it's the best! And I need it! It's what she wears, after all. Now what the hell do I do with it? Use it to keep the vampires away? sprinkle it around Archie Bunkers socks?
4 comments:
So is the the stuff you were trying to foist off on my wife?
well...um, I think it would smell really nice on her. See, my body chemistry is just wrong. She has those higher-end British genes.
and since you live 800 miles away, you wouldn't have to smell it. Though from your description a strong southerly wind might waft it all the way up to you. But don't worry, we have the biohazard containment system prepared, so you can return it down here and avoid the disappointment you might cause the salewoman.
All this talk of scents makes me think of wonderful baked goods that take HOURS to bake. So long to bake in fact, that all of the good flavor just bakes right out of it!
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