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Scents and
Sensibility
pages 2
by Maggie
Van Ostrand |
Pages
1 ... the scentologists didn't stop there, they want everything
in our lives to smell like something else.
We deodorize everything from the cat’s litterbox to our own. On some
level we must be aware of what’s going on in the bathroom, or are
we supposed to think the person who preceded us went in there to squeeze
a lemon?
We’re bombarded daily with bouncy guilt-inducing ads convincing us
we're supposed to smell like a wooded glen, a fresh flower or a tangy
fruit. True our hirsute, cave-dwelling ancestors were doubtless a
little gamy, but mightn't we have gone too far in the other direction?
This Halloween, we can buy fragrances called Graveyard ("an earthy,
dusky scent reminding us of fog juice lingering in the air"), Crypt
("dark and mossy, reminiscent of New Orleans mausoleums"), and Mayhem
("smokey, woodsy scent mixed with spice for a dark night in the woods")
at www.gothrosary.com.
We can buy wall plug-ins to make our garage smell less like motor
oil and more like a field of daisies; underarm deodorant to deceive
fellow elevator riders into believing we fell off a citrus truck;
shampoo that makes us smell like we live inside a coconut; feline
deodorizers to make our cat's litterbox smell like Piña Colada; and
gel candles to make our SUVs smell like a sultry Hawaiian evening.
Our refrigerators no longer smell like food, they smell like an arm
and a hammer, and when we’re ready to throw out the trash, we use
scented garbage bags.
There’s even a spray to make a Hummer smell like a four-wheeled pine
cone when it should have the lingering aroma of fine leather and backseat
sex. "Here, we know all about problems with car odors," says Jean-Jacques,
an employee at a limousine rental agency in Paris. "We clean the car
after each client. Often, we do it several times a day. Each client
has his own smell and I can recognize some of them with my eyes closed!
I refresh the limousine with lime, grapefruit or green apple scents,"
says Jean-Jacques, adding "I wish some drivers would use cologne."
Speaking of cologne, the most popular with affluent teenaged girls
is Ralph Lauren's "Romance," described as smelling like a garden of
wild flowers in late summer; flirtatious and sweet ($63.55 for 3.4
oz spray); Givenchy's "Hot Couture" described as a combination of
roses, vanilla and spring flowers, a perfect accent to a sophisticated
Prom gown ($37.78 for 3.3 oz spray) and Thierry Mugler's "Angel" described
as having the sweet smells of chocolate and orchids ($64.58 for 1.7
oz spray).
Most teens usually smell like basketball sweat and rebellion, a far
cry from grandma who usually smells like gas. It can be enough to
knock the entire family into another room.
There’s a powder for vacuuming the carpet so it smells like fresh
rain. And we thought it only rained in the living rooms of Orlando.
Celebrities like Renee Zellweger and Courtney Cox opt for room scents
like Angel Food Vanilla, and Banana Pudding. What, they can't just
bake those very items in their kitchens?
When we’re stressed out, we no longer talk about it with a friend,
we opt for aroma therapy.
Why
stop there? How about a spray called, “Horse” so we can dream we’re
on a ranch in Montana instead of stuck in a cubicle working for an
insurance company, and “Bacon Frying in Kitchen ,” in case you want
a quick sale on your house, or "Pheromone," for those who still want
to attract the opposite sex even after they've dried up.
Daring women can abandon panties scented like strawberry, lemon and
lime, and go for something more enticing, like bourbon, scotch and
gin.
Perhaps a scentologist will one day artificially create the best scent
of all -- bread baking in the oven. Until then, people should smell
like people and not a gaggle of guava.
Copyright Maggie Van Ostrand |
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