WORLD OF FRAGRANCE

I’m not sure why, but I got it into my head that I wanted to try a new scent for the wedding.

“It was just a thing I thought of,” I explained to Sammy, “As it’s such a day for things to be special.”

I haven’t been all that bothered with fragrances in the past. If truth be told, I never knew how to navigate that minefield as a young man, and didn’t move in circles where it mattered. Deodorant, body spray (if feeling a little… flush) had always been enough, I thought. I was never going to be a candidate on The Apprentice; I was never going to be the next James Bond. Lynx Africa and a whiff of Head and Shoulders would do.

It is a minefield too - I’m not exaggerating. As teenagers we entered the world of fragrance with no more than the whiff of naivety. We boys were new to shaving, and the glass cabinets of wonder were always locked by the unapproachable beauties who worked at the pharmacy. Some of us threw on a hopeful splash of our dad’s Brut or Old Spice, and did the full Kevin McAllister. Others didn’t realise that they were trying to impress girls with the aroma of teak polish.

I remember being asked once what ‘cologne’ I wore by a girl who veered between liking me and humiliating me. I said ‘white musk’ because I’d seen it in the bathroom cabinet. She laughed at me. ‘That’s a woman’s fragrance!’ she cackled, clasping hand to lips and shaking with laughter.

So, back to the present, and my naive avoidance of most things eau de parfum. 

“This one’s a bit more subtle,” claimed the lady in the white Boots tunic. She wafted the testing strip around and then let us sniff it.

It’s remarkable to me how smell works. Memories of places and people come pouring back in with just a hint. It’s like olfactory time-travel. But it’s precise and more emotional than the other senses: photos take you back, stories remind you of the forgotten details, but smell pulls back the feelings you had. And often it’s quite hard to put your finger on exactly when, or where you know that fragrance from. But the feeling is right there.

“Hotel lobby!” I exclaimed with the strip wobbling under my nose. Sammy found that funny. There were more to come too, like ‘All Bar One on a Friday night’ and ‘MBA lecture hall’. There was ‘cucumber with notes of coconut’, ‘fruity air freshener’, ‘light and airy leather’, ‘mint tingle’, and ‘omega watch strap’. All the confusing, overpowering, delicate and mahogany scents that Boots the Chemist had to offer.

“Try some on your wrists,” said Sammy, “They might smell different on skin.”

So it was that the smiling assistant took out a number of odd-shaped glass bottles and started spraying them on patches of my bare arms.

I was starting to think it best not to bother. And in the end, for the rest of the day, I found myself casting a wide circle of suave and sickly fragrance in every direction, much to Sammy’s amusement. It must have been like going out with Paco Rabanne.

Shower gel and roll-on Nivea will do - perhaps with a fresh hint of body spray. And if some day I do get signed up as the next James Bond, or even for The Apprentice, I’ll keep you posted.

Well actually, I won’t need to; you’ll smell me a mile away.