I was reading John Donne's 'Elegy IV: The Perfume' last night, and thought to share a few lines. Who amongst us hasn't been betrayed by our perfume during a nighttime assignation ?

"...But Oh, too common ill, I brought with me
That, which betrayed me to my enemy:
A loud perfume, which at my entrance cried
Even at thy father's nose, so were we spied.
When, like a tyrant king, that in his bed
Smelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered.
Had it been some bad smell, he would have thought
That his own feet, or breath, that smell had wrought.

Guerlain Liù today.

Best to all.