Follow your nose

My Dad and I were attacking the Christmas list for all the grandkids yesterday, and surprise, surprise, I managed to get Mr W something too.

I had to make a run to get some girly stuff in Dillard's and randomly parked so I could just run in and out.  We walked in and boom!  I was right in the middle of the men's fragrance island, taking a big deep breath and fighting the urge to run my nose along the edge of the counter until I found my favorite.  It was a tiny bit embarassing to get so excited about the wonderful smells there in front of my Dad, but I got over it.

For me, there are few things on this earth that are as nice to be around as a guy that smells good.  My girlfriends and I have dubbed this "the Scalzi effect." 

Years ago, I used to work (with a couple of my close friends) in an Urgent Care.  We always had a few residents moonlighting in our clinic.  Some of them had that smarmy, "I'm a doctor, worship me" air about them, that slimy, overconfident-with-the-ladies way of impressing no one yet thinking they could bed anyone attitude that still draws shudders when we hear their names.  And some of them were so genuinely nice that we were sad when they finished their schooling and moved on from us.  And then there was Dr. Scalzi, who was not only friendly, and easy on the eyes, but nice.  He flirted with all of us, he regaled us with interesting stories from the ER to pass our slow times, dressed well, and smelled good.  Really, really good.  We always knew when he was around because usually, you could smell where he was (and it wasn't like he overdid the fragrance, it was just a lingering kind of thing, not offensive or overpowering at all.)  It's just one of those things we collectively remember about him when the conversation turns to our old job. 

Unfortunately for me, Mr. W is not a cologne wearing kind of guy.  He has some short circuit in his olfactory process that doesn't allow him to distinguish one cologne or perfume from the next, he just can tell if someone's wearing it.  So I stopped asking him to wear it, and when I wear it, it's for me (and the enjoyment or horror of those around me, haha.)  And that's ok, you know, whatever.  But sometimes, I can't help but be a little irritated that he can smell just fine at work:"I smelled the odor of an alcoholic substance" or "I smelled the odor of burnt marijuana" is what he writes in his reports, yet perfume is a problem?  OOO-Kay.

I know I've mentioned it before, but scent is one of those primal things, that pheremone curtsy that makes your stomach flip-flop when it hits you just right.  The thing that makes you want to burrow gently into the neck right where it meets the shoulder and graze over the collarbone lightly with your lips as you breathe it in...(excuse me for a minute, I need to collect myself.)

Who really, doesn't like it when someone smells good?  Good gracious, there wouldn't be half the toiletries in our bathrooms if we didn't all dig it, right?  

I should say, however, that this is limited to the tasteful displays of scent.  No over-the-top, in-your-face clouds, please.  It's not sexy to breathe it in and sneeze for the next two hours because someone overdid it.

When someone does it right, it should be acknowledged.  Tell them they smell good, it might make their day.  I love doing that, I just have to make sure I'm a safe distance away, LOL.  Wouldn't want to be, um, inappropriate, and grab at what I shouldn't! (OY!  Maybe Mr. W was right! *blush* I prefer to think of it not as 'oversexed' but 'healthy libido'.  The healthy libido of a 16-yr old boy, but healthy nonetheless.  My friends say it's my advancing age, that womanly-hitting-her-stride thing. Whatever.  I'll take it.) 

So I did make some stops and smell all the lovely samples along the counter.  And two sister fragrances really knocked my socks off.  They smelled nice, and had a little unexpected spicy kind of kick. (Spark and Spark-Seduction haha who comes up with these names?)  I decided that perhaps Mr. W might indulge me if I said 'please' so I got him some as a Christmas present, heehee, for both of us.  A gift that keeps on giving, should it work out (hopefully he'll like it too) and he plays his cards right.

Which isn't bad, considering the last time he gave me a gift that kept on giving, we named him Ryan.