Merde, je pue

I smell awful today. Not awful like stinky, soap-averse, insert-name-of-favourite-smelly-ethnic-group-here awful, but Ralph Lauren Romance awful. This shit makes me smell like a Victorian whore trying to cover up some unspeakable disease. But I looked at the bottle this morning, thought in my CaWASPrian way ‘oh, better use that up before it goes off’, sprayed myself with it, and immediately lost every trace of my vestigial homosexuality.

To help the more clueless among you buy smelly things for Christmas, I’ve got a few other perfumes on the go, all infinitely better than this, that I can reccommend. One, Calvin Klein’s Truth. Good sexy smell, totally without nauseating revolting hints of sweetness. Never would have bought it for myself before, but now enamoured. Two, Clinique’s Happy. Smells like a freshly-scrubbed flower or something. Picks you up and makes you feel like you didn’t smoke too much reefer the night before. The man-scent of this is pretty good too - very fresh but not twee to the degree a straight man won't wear it. Finally, Lancôme’s So Magic! Hints of violet without too much alchohol, and again, glossing over the sweetness. Probably what that Ralph Lauren shit was trying for.

Oh FUCK, I smell bad.