Air mdm  

You don't say?

I do, Ingami. I do. It was such a tumult! It felt as if I got home to Buckingham Palace and it was strewn with flowers, just like when Princess Diana of Wales was killed. I had no idea. I'm still not quite over the shock. I can hear Mike Perez in there, Fleurine....I do hope she's well....you know we've been on a Nina Ricci kick: Have you heard?

That's a hard one. Up in the air, you know. Nina Ricci Girls would be......They would be somewhere between Grande Dame and Cocotte, but they're definitely GD's. Same with Patous. GD's all the way.

Well, we Cocottes have the most choice, naturally: We can wear anything. Worth, Dana, Molinard: Of course, our hearts remain very much in the Guerlain Camp, but we are peripatetic....lately, I've been on a steady diet of Jean Desprez. Who knows when Jicky will show her face again. You know she hates Dame Bal.

Oh, them. Well, Dear, I wouldn't worry too much about them: You can't go to gaol merel....ehm ....I meant simply because you're wearing Chanel, unless of course it's "Bleu," but I'm sure none of them would dare, and besides, it's the GD's that are stuck with them back there. Cello's an Harlot. I know--she is--she is a delight, isn't she? You see they're not all that bad. Mike? You're right. He never did state his allegiance. I suppose if we allowed just one hybrid on board it would have to be him. BN Royalty, you know. Titles do pull weight. Speaking of titles, where is the Viscount?

Viscount! See those Genies? Yes, them: the hot ones with the chiffon harem pants and the side pony tails. They'll assist Fleurine with all of those bags! We never limit baggage on AIR MDM, as long as they're something lovely. We Cocottes have a mixture, yes: A bit of Hermes mixed in with Reed Krakoff. We love the high low.

What's that, Viscount? Oh! well, there are male and female Genies. They're just all wearing chiffon harem pants. Of course I wouldn't allow a female Genie to be carting about bags! Especially Fleurines! They look like Prada: And, look, the whole set, including the round hat case! I wonder what she has in there? Yes, I'm sure they're Prada. Who else does those buff and black, angular pieces? Yes, I know... well, let's hope the Berdgorf Goodman bags contain interesting things for us to discuss along the way, between in flight entertainment.

There will be two presentations going on simultaneously throughout the flight. In the Violet Velvet Room, there will be movies. As you can see, to put us in the mood, we're now watching "What a Way to Go!" with Shirley Maclaine, and every contemporary male lead of her time. Yes, Ingami: Paul Newman--and all the others.

I know, Viscount, but we've all seen that. The one where she's a lesbian school mistress was up for discussion, but she looks so plain in it. The Violet Velvet Room has movies, and, later, there will be a Ball. Out there, discussions are planned; weighty ones, light hearted ones. I'm still waiting on my first guest speaker: A doctor!

I don't know if he's married, Ingami.

I guess Mike Perez has a lot of catching up to do with Fleurine, or, when he peeked in here, we were still in the Amethyst Mist Hammam. Thank goodness you got here early, Viscount. I was about to give up on it. Let's let it get good and steamy before we pour an ounce of something into the steam jet....anyway, we've awhile to go before take off: You know those Grandes Dames, always late.....

Thank you, Viscount. Such a Gentleman! I'll be fine. Yes--do please keep the doors open. It's just that I'm having a hard time breathing. I'm not sure if it's Tabac Blond, Pois de Senteur, En Avion, or French Can Can: It smells like a mixture of all of them. Yes, there's a dear: My handkerchief soaked, then ironed in Mouchoir de Monsieur, the $1,595.00US per liter linen spray. Ah! That's better! Is....cough....La....cough cough cough.. Larimar on board? Get one of the Hot Genies to zip up the violet velvet curtain, would you? Ah! The fumes!

...cough...cough...So, I'm afraid that has got to be Larimar, VR. I can hear her out there, making a fuss with the...cough...with the Hot Genies.

Yes, yes I know she thinks she's in First Class: Obviously, she hadn't paid any amount of attention to the announcements. Good thing there are no restrictions on anything anywhere aboard the craft: I had it designed so non-Cocottes can't even get near First Class, did you notice? It goes: Cock-pit, Amethyst Mist Hammam, First Class, The Violet Velvet Room, then the rest of the aircraft. I don't think Mike saw it either. I did see him peek his nose in here on his way in. Ingami and I were in deep discussion.

Well, for one, our genies are hotter. That should be obvious at this point...cough...but, confound those...cough...I...cough.... I should have had the ventilation system triple filtered over in there: I forgot about...cough cough...I forgot about those GD's and their shock-and-awe sillage. I also could have done with some more sound proofing: At least we have the Amethyst Mist Hammam--that's definitely sealed. You thought it was first class out there too, did you? Oh, VR! go have a look. It's that way. You'll notice immediately once you get past the AMH: It's all done in Vol de Nuit Zebra Print and soft metallics--it was such an ordeal finding the right shade of dull bronze/pewter! You'll know you're there when you get in: It's all beds, looks like an enormous pillow pit, with two Genies assigned to each one. Oh, and each compartment has "Guillotine" style walls: You've just to press the button and your walls slide softly and noiselessly down around your area, after which each compartment becomes a kind of stateroom, big enough for you, and up to three Genies, if you want company.

It's not called "Second Class." Can you imagine the rants, the rages, the frenzy, were Larimar to find out she's in "Second Class?" No, no. By all means the entire craft is First Class Standard, except that in our area, we have Private Jet Accoutrements, and, as I said, hotter Genies. Go have a look. You're in "Habit Rouge." Oh, you'll know because, on one of the zebra pillows, they're all Norwegian down, you know, you'll find the initials "HR" discretely embroidered in magenta. You'll love the control panels: Pick a genie, or two, and they'll show you all the things you can do. It sort of just looks like "Supperclub" now, except, rather than being all white, it's all zebra. As soon as the walls go up, it's more "Pullman Orient Express." Go have a look. Yes, you can have any Genie. They've all been trained. Well, Aphrodite won't mind, will she, since AIR MDM is a bit like Vegas you know, minus the hoards of commoners. Go check it out. We can't take off for awhile. You might as well enjoy. Oh, no, no, no: You needn't go to one of the public bars: You have your own, and it has many compartments. I can't imagine you'd crave for anything that isn't already in there, and if you do, just ask a Genie. Go check it out, man!

Ingami? Dear? Wake up now! Genie? can you fetch me a "Jicky" atomizer? I've to wake Ingami up. Thank you. There we are now. Hi! Yes, you'd nodded off. I know! cough....it is bad, isn't it? Don't you start coughing as well: I'm about to break into a wheeze. Oh, yes, it is lovely hair, isn't it, but that Genie is an "he." Cough. I'm afraid he more than just looks like Fabio. You know, the "Old Spice Guy" gig was over, and, well, he's an old friend. Anyway, as I was saying....yes, that's Larimar. I don't know. I think he put them all on. Maybe he does that when he flies, in order to fumigate wherever he goes. Clearly he's got an whole host of flacons: Look, he and Fleurine are dipping into "Bal de Roses." I wonder where he got that one? No, the Bergdorf Goodman bags are Fleurine's. So, as I was saying.......Oh, Dear! Just one moment, Ingami. These confounded i-phones! Genie! Will you take this? Thank you. In our area, we can pretty much do whatever we want, with whomever, as the Genies are all equipped to entertain us however we see fit, and none have any barriers, at least the First Class Ones. Yes, Fabio is a First Class...I'm sorry? Oh! Splendid! Tell him to hold one moment, will you? Ingami, my apologies. I've to take this.

Doctor! How ever are you? So nice to hear from you and thank you for returning my call! Really now? You will? Ah! Well, I can't tell you how delighted I am! You just take your time. I can send one of the Genies over immediately to collect you: AIR MDM has a fleet of stretch limos, and they all have bars. I'll send two Genies: One male, one female. You can decide which one does the driving. They're both fully equipped. Ok then. Shall I send one male Genie and two Female Genies? You got it! Yes I'll tell them to press the button that says "PM." Oh! Doctor! I'm so pleased! Yes it will be grand. Of course you can bring a friend. Any friend of yours is welcome on AIR MDM, with FIRST CLASS PASS, unlimited access! Alright, then, we'll all see you shortly. We're having a bit of a delay on the tarmac. No, it's not snowing. We're still trying to...cough...fumigate the aircraft. Someone has applied a tad wee bit too much Caron extract for the journey. Ok! Oh! Preference for Blonde, Brunette, Redhead.....A Genie of Colour, perhaps? You got it! They're on their way! All three of them. The Limos are deep deep violet: For intents and purposes, they look black. See you then! Cherio!

...cough....I say, when will that air system clear out this....this noxious gas? No. It's not the petrole tanks leaking. It's Larimar. I think he decided to drip dry from his daily soak in Tabac Blond extract. Very Exciting news! My Star Guest Speaker has just confirmed, and there will be others! Oh, lectures, discussions, cat fights, you know, the usual: Except that we can retreat into our own private quarters when the GD's start tearing up the Harlots. Well, I didn't know what else to do with them! I do everything in threes, you know, so when I was designing the craft, naturally, there were the three environments: Two for us, and one for them. When the Harlots joined in, there was no where else to put them! Larimar won't be any threat to them with his Fox Stola. Those Harlots, they pack rods. I know...I know. You can smell her, you can hear her....No, I did not beg her to come aboard. Fleurine, God bless her, was asking about her. She is after all, their Queen. They have to put up with her. If she gets over baring, we'll just retreat back in here: "Puzzle of a Downfall Child" is playing later. We're all going to douse ourselves in "Apres l'Ondee" and watch it. Oh, cough....Oh that? That's "Ode." It does smell like "Joy," doesn't it? I thought it made a good olfactory accompaniment to "What a Way to Go!" Oh! Speaking of which, here comes the bit with Paul Newman! Look! Yes! That is his foot! I'm not sure why this bit is in black and white.....Excuse me I'm going into First Class to see what's keeping VR....Ingami? Dear?.....Hmm! One glimpse of Paul Newman's foot and she's in a trance. Go figure. Viscount! VR? Where are you? Genie, what's become of Viscount Rubi....Viscount! I see you've....you've gotten in the spirit of things! You....You'd best put that suit back on before going through the Violet Velvet Room: Only First Class is Clothing Optional!

.....Yeah.....you should definitely put it back on VR, unless you want to stay back here in FIRST CLASS. Thank God that odor is beginning to dissipate. No--I mean the Caronade. I think the Genies got the air systems running. Listen to them out there! Oh! I know, isn't it hilarious? Can you imagine? Rolling your own cigarettes? So....ehm...Teutonic, isn't it? I'm not sure what to do about the overcrowding. Cello hasn't even arrived and they're already throwing insults around. I'm afraid I'm going to have to make an announcement. You, you put that suit back on. There'll be plenty of jammie time later, I assure you. Genie? could you rig up the speaker system for me please? Thank you. Oh, VR, come on now: That carmine tie looked smashing on you: Put it back on. Ok: Here goes. Cough. Damn! If we go out there, we're going to need the gas masks. Oh, they're in here, you see? You just touch the burlwood incrusted flap, right here. There it is. Fetching, right? I had them run up at Hermes. Excuse me while I make the announcement. There you are! Looking dapper, as usual! Oh, and right here--here's your personal perfume organ: You're Habit Rouge, so, along with 27 other key comps, you have every vintage of HR since 1965, in every concentration ever made--even the hairspary: See? I told you it was magenta.

Good Evening Ladies and Gentleman, this is your Captain Speaking. As it appears, we are going to have a full flight this evening. The following passengers, who have not yet checked in as instructed, are kindly requested to report to the MDM home page to submit their applications for stand by boarding passes: Passenger Merely, and Passenger Hedonist, any Genie will be happy to escort you to the MDM home page where your applications for stand by can be processed. While We would like to welcome all of you tonight, you all can plainly see that, even though this is a brand new 787 Boeing, which has been designed sparing no expense, with accoutrements provided by the finest artisans the world can offer, AIR MDM remains a PRIVATE airline, and all passengers must be approved to board before we can take off. In the interim, Cocottes, feel free to visit the VIOLET VELVET ROOM, or join me and make yourselves at home in the FIRST CLASS CABIN. Grandes Dames and Harlots, on behalf of all of us here on AIR MDM, myself and my team of Hot Genies, we kindly request that you do your utmost to be civil, refrain from catty behaviour, and mind your manners. Just as it is a privilege to serve you tonight, folks, we here at AIR MDM would also like to point out that flying AIR MDM is, as well, a privilege. Thank you in advance for your co-operation, and, with any luck, we shall be air-born shortly.

....I know, VR, but we can't have an overbooked flight, nor can we have a sling-match. I've invited some very illustrious speakers aboard this jet, and I won't have them facing an audience of cackling prima donnas who can't mind their manners. I....I smell Shalimar! Is that you? You have 8 vintages in your personal organ, you know: Didn't you see them? Mmmmmmmmm. I Love Shalimar......You know, it's funny, isn't it? How men just go weak kneed over it? Yes I know Aphrodite wears it. What else would she wear? It goes so nicely with Habit Rou....Who's that? Genies, Mind to make sure that's a Cocotte! Ah! Ingami! Hello! Welcome. Yes, my Dear, This....This is FIRST CLASS, and here are your quarters: You are Shalimar. See the "S" here embroidered in persian violet silk cordonnet? That means you, darling! Oh, that, well, you see I refuse to take off until that lot back there calms down. Plus, I'm sure you saw: It's too crowded! Too many Grandes Dames! I think I heard Cello....got a whiff of Bois des Isles....I'm so pleased she joined us. Well, darling, it's not everyone who is as charming as you. The gaggle back there makes that abundantly clear, doesn't it. Oh, that? Well, it's Larimar who starts it. She can't control herself apparently. Has she strangled anyone yet? Not two seconds on my jet and she's already launching insults. I've a mind to cancel the flight entirely. Here. Let me smell you. Hmmmmmmmm. So intoxicatingly warm and comforting. There's nothing like it, is there? What do you say, VR? So soft.....just the way we like it. Did Larimar cringe, turn green and proceed to begin screaming "I'm melting!" when you sprayed some on her? I've four of the hottest Genies--there's one right there--see? Yes. Him. With the triceps. I've only to wink at them and she will be ejected if she keeps it up. I know she knows better, Ingami, but for some reason....she apparently feels the need to be unbearable. Let her have her own jet built. Do you know how long it took to get this one fitted out for you? Yes! Yes that is Pierre Frey velvet! You've a good eye, Ingami. How'd you like the all white interior of the back cabin, subtly picked out with thin black piping, and the ceiling padded in white, tufted pig suede with gold buttons? I was trying to make the Grandes Dames and the Cocottes feel at home, you see. As Larimar said: "He tries so hard." That's a joke, isn't it? While she rolls her own cigarettes. At any rate, she'd best mind her manners, or this flight will be canceled. Darling, here: Let me shower you with more Shalimar: You know it calms the nerves. This is the 1974 vintage extract. Divine, no? Will you go back out there and try to talk some sense into them? VR--you go as well. I will not take off until they have all come to a truce and vowed to cease and desist with the insulting behaviour. I can very happily occupy this jet on my own, along with all you Cocottes. This can be a "Cocotte Only" flight of fancy. It's not what I had in mind, but if it comes to that, it will be just as well. I've a discussion to conduct. I've no interest whatsoever in childish nonsense. Go on now. The two of you go lay down the law. VR, manhandle them if necessary. The Male Genies all have rock hard musculature under their chiffon harem pants and tunics. Inga? What happened to Inga? did she....why it looks as if she's fallen into a swoon! Inga.....Oh! there you are! A Black and white glimpse of Paul Newman's foot and you're batty--just the mention of Hot Male Genies and you "Fall into the Roses" as the French would say. Don't worry, Dear: You have two all to yourself....and you know, ours are the hottest......

Oi! ....... Oi! ........Psssssst!....... ( ) Oi!. ( ) Pfff! Oh, Brother! Good Doctor!....... Oi! ......Doctor? Genie, will you go tap him on the shoulder? and peel VR off of Cello, while you're at it, will you: I've strict orders from Aphrodite to keep an eye on him. No, Genies don't count, but flight members do. There's a Dear. Oi ! Yes! Come!
Don't worry! Come! Back here. Yes! Genie, remove VR form the GD-H CABIN and bring him back into FIRST CLASS. We'll meet you back there. Yes, I can see he is causing general heart palpitations amongst the passengers, but just break it up and meet us in FiRST CLASS. Doctor! You came early? I wasn't expecting you just yet. Follow me. That's the VIOLET VELVET ROOM. There'll be movies in there, and later, it will turn into a kind of discotheque, which reminds me. Give me a second. Of course you can go in. Oh, they did, did they? Well, this is my jet, and, harlot or not, you have access to both the VIOLET VELVET ROOM as well as your own quarters in FIRST CLASS. I'll show you in a moment. I'll be right back....or as that is very specifically said in French, Je Reviens. Genie, put on Florence and the Machine "Ceremonials," as well as something recent from by the Creatures, and press mix. They're acting like savages back there. They may as well have tribal music. Thanks. Make it loud. I can't bare to hear her winging and moaning about how nothing is right. Isn't it the truth? Allow anyone who's never been on a private jet on board and they immediately assume they are Queen Elizabeth II of England. Don't worry, Genie. She's the sort that treats her staff like slaves. Yes, I know I typically avoid nouveau....ehm....them. We have to deal. If she gets too overbearing, you and three others will just have to eject her mid flight. I've got Sunnyfunny on it. I'm hoping Cello can help. Maybe you can slip her a drop or two of some seditative from my personal drug organ. No, not the Laudanum tincture! Try something more date-rapey. She needs to be catatonic slash nearly unconscious or this flight will be aborted. Failing that we'll kick off every Grande Dame and proceed with the Harlots: I'm liking them more and more. Yesterday I smelled "Coromandel" again, and, well....anyway I....cough....I've had quite enough of this Grande Dame nonsense. Crank the music, serve her whatever she wants, and make with the drugs. We'll see if Sunnyfunny and Cello can do the rest. thank you. Come again? Oh! The Good Doctor is "Hors Concours." He has full plane access, and quarters in FIRST CLASS: Yes, that's what the Hello Kitty cabin was about. I'm not sure about his friend. He's on stand by. He may be back. Ok: Give me a moment and see what you can do for God's sake: She's driving me insane and I will not be air-born with a madman for that amount of time. Ha!.....Ha ha ha: You're right: You can't tell, can you? It's the fumes. They blind you. You know how those Germans are: can't tell the women from the men--Oh, now, wait: She's Austrian. I know she rolls her own cigarettes. I don't get it either. Now just please go.....intervene. I've to have a word with the Good Doctor. We'll need to assign four Genies to him. Yes. First Class Genies. I'll give one up. I don't care--as long as I have two female Genies I can dispense with the others. I'll find out. Now get it done, Genie. Thank you. Ah! Good Doctor! Come. Yes, this way. Here we are! FIRST CLASS.....and this area over here....just right through here....is your lab. Yes. Pink. I thought it would be soothing. You've temperature controlled environments built into the cabinets, so get a Genie on it and arrange your affairs. Yours is the only fully private, lockable room per se, along with my wardrobe suite and private baths. On your left over there, speaking of baths, we have the Amethyst Mist Hammam, again, along with this entire side of the craft, accessible to Cocottes only. You, you're hors concours. You and Mike Perez. Make yourself at home and....OH, Oh BRO-THER! Look who we have here. Viscount Rubegon, meet Dr. Redneck Perfumistico. Dr. Redneck, meet Viscount Rubegon. Now see here, VR, you & those carmine boots. How could you? Weston be Damned! Talk about a Chick magnet. Ah....Texas. Isn't it a pity we can't take that Red State and turn it Aubergine? Oh well, we can always dream. Alright, you two. I'm afraid I need a moment in my Private Dressing Room. Yes, I need to make with the drugs. Oh, both of you are fully stocked in your quarters. You have your own. You two bruisers, if you could please get back in there and see what you can do about......about Larimar. If she doesn't cool it, I'm having her removed. The GD's can stay--they just won't have their Queen. After all, the Harlots haven't any Queen. Why should the Grandes Dames? I don't care how you do it. Whatever it takes. The Genies have been granted full license to get her in check. They might have slipped something in her champagne by now, I don't know. We can't start anything until she chills out, and remains chill. I don't know VR. Some people are just mean spirited I suppose. I don't get it either. So: You've Sunnyfunny, Cello, the two of you, and the whole staff of Genies, male and female. Surely there's something you can do. Dr, did you bring your "Angel Infusion Head Device?" No....I know that wouldn't do for calming her down. I'm thinking torture at this point. Check this out: See this door? Watch: Uh-Huh. Torture Chamber. On AIR MDM, we have it all. Now, if you'll excuse me.....I'm in desperate need of a Bon....Sorry? Oh! Your friend Hedonist? He's on stand by. It all depends on team member count. We're over booked on Grandes Dames, and I've had quite enough of them, to be honest. Fleurine's an hybrid. She just identifies as a Grande Dame. OK: Go do your thing. Whatever it takes. If she's not in order when I get out of my dressing room, we'll remove her from the flight, and proceed. If she won't co-operate, the flight will be cancelled, and locked down. Simple as that. Oh, and VC.....Seriously.....good thing I wear size 48 boots because otherwise.....T'aint raht!

.....Oh, Brother! What have I got myself into! Hello, Nigel. Yes, Please. Stuff it full. I'm going to need a few long, deep ones before I can face this. Thank you, Dear. You're comfortable back here, I hope? Good. I see you brought your stack of cross-word puzzles. There's a good fellow: Nice and full. You have my Montblanc lighter? Perfect.

Cough....cough....Oh, Dear! Excuse me one moment. I'm afraid I'll need my gas masque if I'm to spend any amount of time in here. Right. There we are. Good Evening passengers. Thank you for joining me here on AIR MDM. I'm pleased that you all have become acquainted. Baring for the moment the usual festivities we have planned for in flight entertainment, I'm happy to announce that we have the great pleasure and honour this evening to welcome the illustrious and much loved Dr. Redneck Perfumistico himself, who has very kindly agreed to join us on our flight, in spite of his very busy schedule, and professional demands that take him to all four corners of This Square Earth. I am, to say the very least, delighted to have the privilege of his company and I look very much forward to the insights all of us may gain through this Fine Doctor's encyclopedic knowledge of chemistry, and all other facets of perfumery which may escape some of us, enraptured as we are by the delightful scents that emanate from our cherished crystal flacons. How we love them. We will set an alarm in the deepest, darkest hours of the night to work an auction online in order that we obtain that precious bottle. We will travel any length to procure our olfactory pleasures. In the grand and lofty scheme of Adoration, I believe I can safely speak for everyone on board this evening, we adore perfume. We go to bed with it. We wake up with it. We face the world with it: I, myself, will not leave my house without at least 7ml of three different comps in the various pockets of my garments: How will I know what the day will bring? How will any of us know? And what about the night? As the elegant, exquisitely dressed and highly civilized people of days gone by would change their ensembles two to three times per day, we, dear friends, continue their tradition, keeping its flame alive, by changing perfumes. Before I announce our first subject of discussion, I would very much like to recount to all of you an epiphany I recently had upon arrival from our last journey, "En Avion to Nowhere." As you all know, I myself have been an unwavering devotee of Guerlain for most of my adult life. As I am somewhat advanced in years, that time frame would calculate out numerically at around 30. For 30 years I have been loyal to the house of Guerlain in all things scented: Of their perfumes I have made a kind of philosophy: A Philokalia of scented enchantment. I have bathed in them, moisturized in them, powdered in them, spritzed and splashed in them, dabbed them, even drank them, there isn't much that can be done with scent that I have not attempted with any number of Guerlains. Over the course of my life, I have worn Vetyver, Habit Rouge, Jicky, and mostly, as all of you know, Mouchoir de Monsieur. For many years I have been on an automatic renewal system at Guerlain that would deliver to me yearly 2000ml of Eau du Coq, 1000ml of Mouchoir de Monsieur, and 250ml of Jicky parfum with no questions asked, and no documents signed: These bottles would arrive at my office, and off I would go with them, along with many gifts that have come along with them from the fine people at Guerlain: 30ml flacons of Jicky, 100ml spray bottles of Mouchoir de Monsieur, and other lovely things. I remember that I bought my first bottle of Jicky at the small Guerlain boutique on rue du Faubourg Saint Honore at the tender age of 17: With my red, short haired dachshund, I wandered in and asked if I could smell this perfume in the window, because, strangely, it had my name on it: Thus began the love affair. I remember the day as if it were yesterday: It was the height of summer, during the endless, blinding brightness of Paris, and with great pride I wore what would look today very much like a comic book prison uniform, all stripes: It was the Eighties, and this, I thought, was the very height of chic: I felt empowered to enter this marble boutique, where I had many times been before, accompanied by my mother, only because I had pockets full of large 500 franc notes, a Yohji Yamamoto suit, and a perfectly groomed, impeccably behaved show dog: "They'll never suspect that I'm only 17," I remember thinking. The year was 1982. Today, we have made it all the way to 2012, and that does in fact make 30 years. Now, I've closets and closets full of Jicky: Every size quadrilobe that was ever made, about 2500ml of the special order Parfum de Toilette in reserve, Walls of black and gold "travel flacons" of
Mouchoir de Monsieur, stacked like bricks, as well as a spanking new 1000ml bottle delivered just last week. What I don't have, is a desire to wear them. When I walked into Guerlain that fateful day, I did so in a cloud of "Pour un Homme de Caron." To me, this was the most sophisticated thing. I loved it so. I loved it so, that is, until I experienced Jicky. In those days, Jicky made Pour un Homme smell like drugstore lavender water. I was immediately hooked, and never again did I look back, until now. Just as 1982 marked the year that I became Guerlain, 2012 marks the one where I move on, and become....something else. Aided by the advent of the internet, I have been able to fill an entire cave with cellophane sealed vintage perfume: I have calculated that, including this morning's auction win, I am now in possession of over 10,000ml of an extraordinary vintage juice, which, as of a few weeks ago, I have been wearing, and the pleasure it has given me has been infinite. Recently, I had a heart to heart with some higher ups at Guerlain: "You are meant to be the top of the barrel. Not the bottom. Everybody else is toiling under the same restrictions as you: Explain to me, then, how Serge can make an eau de toilette that lasts twelve hours on skin, whilst you continue to sell this very same concentration that is gone without a trace within 30 minutes, and that's on a good day." I'm afraid they had little to say in retort. "Restrictions. Restrictions. Restrictions." was all I remember hearing from them, along with unending niceties, and offers of gifts, all of which I refused. Recently, I read, for example, that all these beautiful perfumes of old can no longer be made because, among other horrors, they cause cancer. Upon computing that data, I thought: "Well, my mother positively bathed in perfume: The bath oils. The Eaux de Colognes. The After Bath Scented Powder. The Eaux de Toilettes. The Extracts...." That was until I remembered: It has been 23 years that I have been bereft of my Dear Mother, and her delicate sillage of Nina Ricci. The death of the Mother: Not something one "gets over." We just change. And, as luck would have it, what precisely was the cause of her death? Cancer. So, on that note, I would like to introduce the following topic upon which we all may wish to ponder. With the help of Dr. Perfumistico, we may be able to bring some clarity to this conundrum. For that which concerns myself, I assert: There are few things on this earth that give unto me the pleasure that perfume brings. I have had thus far an intoxicatingly beautiful life. It has been said by many that mine own would make the stuff of Hollywood Dreams, Paperback Best Seller, Televised Soap Opera, and, more embarrassingly, Reality TV: It is a fact that I have refused three such offers: Two to be the subject of one, and another to be a participant. If this plain crashes, I will die a happy man. I consider every new day a gift, and I am grateful for it. In other words: Loud and clear I proclaim, Give me Sillage, or give me Death: An assertion I mean quite earnestly and in no imprecise terms. Ladies and Gentleman, with this I announce our first topic of discussion: THE EFFLUVIA OF DEATH With that, it is my pleasure to hand the floor over to our much honoured guest, the one, the only: Dr. Redneck Perfumistico himself. Please, do give him the warmest of welcomes. Do also be aware that very well endowed Genies are standing by to manhandle and boot out any of you GD's who "start." Yes: That means you.

Ah, Yes! There it is! Fougere Royale! Moment Supreme! Tweed! Crepe de Chine! Yes, Genies: Keep it up. Now, people, now: Inhale deeply. Relax, and inhale. Feel the molecules as they race up through the passages of your nose, and work their magic on your brain, for these, these are the very particles of time! Particles of time that is lost to us: Lost to us forever. Breathe them in, and watch as your mind paints of its own accord images you had no idea resided deep within you. That's right, Genie! Jardanel! Blue Carnation! 20 Carats! Voila Pourquoi J'aimais Rosine! Do you see it? Do you see how beautiful it was, the world we have left behind, beautiful even in its wanton cruelty and savage inhumanity! So exquisitely wrought, so intricately thought out. And here, here I stand, watching all of you as you whirl away into a swoon of ecstasy. This is how it was: This is how it never again shall be. We can go back further, Genies: Bring on Lord Ashley Cooper! Bouquet de la Reine! Here we have it, people, as in no other form, no other medium. For what, what do we know of the times? Times so recent as the XVIIIe Century? The Court of King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette of France? We have Versailles to visit. We have Fragonards to view: Relics to examine. But just as our Good Doctor is an expert on the chemical and the mathematical, your own speaker is an expert on chromatics: What of them? We stand before the portraits at Versailles, the jacquard silks painstakingly embroidered over in fine threads, and we think: "Well! They certainly had a taste for colours in those days!" for the colours, to our own modern eyes, seem garishly bright, even clashing: The French Blue, the Carmine, the Chromium yellow! Yet I, I am here to tell you all: These relics give us but a mere hint of the chromatic tastes of the time, as all of them, every last thread, every etching, every painting, have faded so severely that we have no idea of their original intensity, for all pigment is dye, and all dye fades, be it oil based, water based, bound in pastel: Nothing will keep it from fading. Closed, and sealed, never having seen the light of day for over two centuries, not one known pigment will escape a certain evolution: Yellows, especially, the most delicate and difficult to wield of all, will wither in the bleakest, most air-tight confines. Blues will turn lavender. Reds will turn purple. None of us, not a one, have any idea what the Royal Court of Versailles really looked like: My long, drawn out research, years and years of labour, indicate it was an orgy of colours so vibrant, they would today be considered bordering on the fluorescent. Of all things that I have ever seen, the closest I can surmise to resemble the chromatic realities of this world long gone would be Sophia Coppula's brilliant "Marie Antoinette." Examine the colours of all things featured in this film, and you will see the closest adaptation of the true visual reality seen through the eyes of the very unfortunate and last true Glorified King and Queen of France. What of the smells? Pastilles were burnt. Perfumes were used lavishly. Bathing in water, unheard of. Ladies would defecate in their underskirts during parties, as removing their vestiments, an hour long affair, was the work of several. Urine was considered healthy, and was often drank as a remedy: Used as a disinfectant. Neither men nor women of the Court would hesitate to pass water within their clothes during a Ball. Deodorant was as unknown to them as would be, for example, a wireless modem. What kind of smells do you think wafted through the Hall of Mirrors? Genies! Bring it on: Bal a Versailles!
Inhale, people! Don't be afraid. Inhale, and you'll see. You will see. You will feel, finally, the realities of days that funneled down to us, for in each one of us, there lies a thread backwards to eternity: We are nothing save for a link in a chain. We have ourselves, but we are born of two: Each of them, our parents, born also of two, and on and on and on! Where does it stop? It never stops, my friends. It never stops.... Inside each one of us is some molecule of each century that has past before us, and beyond: Far, far beyond, farther still than centuries themselves. Genies! Bring it on: Amour Amour! Sleeping! We love them because somewhere, deep inside of us, they all reside, for no memory ever escapes our soul, which has lived since before even time could be fathomed, and will live forever more: Death, friends, is nothing. As soon as it comes, each one of us will know. Fear it as we may, it is merely yet another beginning, and in its throws we are made each to understand this: To relive in specific terms each moment in time from the moment we die until forever backwards: At the end.....Ladies and gentlemen. At the End, all we find, is the future.