Originally Posted by anomie et ivoire
Excuse my novice enthusiasum effluvium, MdM
. I assure you I am no sycophant (but wouldn't only a sycophant feel the need to 'assure?') ... my admiration for those with strong personal style here is nothing but a hedonistic interpretation of the collective unconscious (whatever that may mean--usually: style and pleasure as exhalation). Per-son-ality plus, plz. And now I must have Habanita edp.
And yes, there is something mystical but earthy/practical about lots of high quality patchouli when alone, so no one can criticize it--as they inevitably do...
I commend your personal funk-fest. When I went to hippie college and lived in the dank Pacific Northwest, this Ann D-lover sang the body electric often. Surprisingly very few people minded the clean musk of a less sanitized body, but as soon as the patchouli went on, even right after a shower, paranoid comments ensued. Acid flashbacks, maybe...
Isn't it the truth? When I wear G-Gentleman, there's a kind of phenomenon that occurs. The men over there in Male Forum can not stop endlessly comparing notes about.....OK, now, don't laugh
...."Panty Droppers." Yes. That is what they call them. Isn't it hilarious? I'm the first to admit the eccentricities of my sex: Arm-pit fascination, etc, but imagining that *any* perfume will make *any* Female (or She-Male) drop her panties
is the most absurd thing. Bunch of cavemen
over there, Isn't it? At any rate--here's what happens. It goes this way. Typically, I don't seek out attention with my sillage when out and about, thus my signature scents which you all know: Very discrete.
Typically, I spray G-Gentleman on my "Treasure Trail," and that being buried under--vest, shirt, waistcoat, blazer, pants, and jeans, -all of those layers- just gives a very vague nicety that really requires fly-opening which of course happens over the course of the day, for natural reasons, you see. (I recommend "the belly button blast" for all of you who wish to experiment with these sillage bombs, like "Opium" during the day and hesitate. It's brilliant
.) So, as I did today, it is rare indeed that I should spritz my neck, and wrists with G-Gentleman. Naturally, I *only* consider the vinatge: Pre-1985
. When I do, it invariably comes to pass that I am repeatedly stopped on the street by lone members the fairer sex--and asked questions which require long, drawn out answers. Usually, these will have something to do with my clothes, or recommendations for somewhere they might have a coffee, or where they might be able to find the nearest place in which to buy every single hair product I currently may (or may not) be wearing. ("How do you get your hair to do that? Is it leave in?") Today, it happened three times
. Each time, I could see the tell-tale sparkle in their eyes. It *always* happens when I "outwardly* wear G-Gentleman. HOWEVER
: My fellow males, whom also will not fail
to comment, have only this
to say: "Are you wearing Patchouli
?" (Intuit the tone of the word Patchouli
here) In other words, I am fawned over
by women, and ridiculed
by men, each and every time I wear G-Gentleman, which, you know, in France, when I was a killer young late-teen early twenty-something, it was *generally known* that G-Gentleman was every woman's favourite scent to inhale on their men: This was a given
: Needed strictly no discussion. Naturally, I made a signature of it in the FABULOUS 80's
. (No fair calling them horrible when you weren't there, or even if you were, and you were listening to the Mouseketeers: They were SENSATIONAL
. they were nothing less than the LAST decade when "Something" actually happened that wasn't redux. Just you go listen to about two straight hours of Bauhaus for saying the word horrid
in regards to them, or whatever it was you said. In France and in England, they were THE BEST
. Sorry. Oh--and not to mention those ridiculous 90's--when we were all ready for the "New Age"--then it never came
. Linda Evangelista gets a fringe and Kristin McMenamy shaves off her eyebrows. Big Fucking deal
.--and the Noughts. NO-THING.
Now we're in--what? the Teens? NO-THING
. Don't any of you start 80's thrashing without imagining you'll not have to answer to me
: I've no idea how they were in the US but they were THRILLING
in the UK. THRILLING
in France. I'm feeling wounded that you should dismiss them. Mumsy will tell you: Yes, the 60's & 70's were the Goood Times....but the 80's
.....these mayn't have been "the Good Times," but, oh, let me tell you, I who was there and already going out dancing every night
, (It's just what you did) wearing the make-up (all men wore it then) and the clothes.....(Of course by "clothes" I don't meen....you know....just any clothes
.)....drenching myself in perfume with an abandon *only the 80's + France* would allow: NOTHING can compare. Hey: Listen to this--THEN
we'll discuss.)SHE'S IN PARTIES-or anything by Bauhaus.