Friday, October 13, 2006


This morning I walked to the station. I had plenty of time so I was ambling along. When I was about three-quarters there, a woman passed me in a wave of perfume.

This was strong perfume. I don't just mean STRONG, I mean STRONG. I could imagine a trail of comatose people and birds falling out of the sky in her wake. It was like she was a little perfumed comet.

I was hoping she'd get far enough ahead for the smell to dissipate enough for me to be able to breathe without coughing but even when she'd got 20 feet ahead of me the smell still lingered. I told you... STRONG.

In the end, I crossed the road and ran, yes ran, up the road before crossing back to be upwind of her. I didn't want there being any chance of her passing me again.

Girls ... You may have burnt out your sense of smell over the years but you really don't have to use a lot of that stuff for us to be able to smell it. Really. Trust me on this one. Less, a great deal less, is so much more.

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Don't talk to me about perfume; my sense of smell was destroyed during my formative years thanks to being dragged around the perfume departments of some of Edinburgh's biggest department stores (many, sadly, no longer with us, or at least outside of the House of Fraser) by my mother. Not that she wore a lot herself; but invariably, she'd choose a route to the other departments that invariably ended up moving very slowly through the sickly-sweet atmosphere of the place... and, no matter how much I tried, I could never hold my breath long enough to survive unscathed...
I used to have a boss that wore so much perfume that you could smell when she was in work. I used to walk down the staff corridor and depending what i smelt, go to the canteen for my early morning coffee and fag or leg it to the early morning meeting. so its not all bad. Webbie. www.ryarsh.info
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