A Rose By Any Other Scent
Horses sweat; men perspire; and ladies glow. I don’t wear deodorants myself, which means I have shelves full of the stuff that friends kindly contribute at festive occasions - maybe they are trying to tell me something? My rippling muscles obviously don’t produce as much stale odour as those bronzed torsos in the ads with the beautiful women draped round them.
But I do wear aftershave. I love all those ‘scratch & sniff’ adverts. (I wonder when they will do them for food or disinfectants?) Often, on my way to a meeting or a show in Town, I pop into a department store and generously apply the free sample to my face - not my wrists - it has to last me all evening!
Of course they call it “aftershave” because that sounds more rugged and manly than “perfume for men”. A rose by any other name. It can’t be long now till the business executive jokes with the air hostess: “and I’d better take some perfume home for the husband…”
It has other uses as well. I can ‘scents’ which students have been in my flat while I’ve been out, especially those guys who use it to freshen up clothes they’ve already retrieved from the dirty washing twice. And a dash in a bland cooking oil transforms it into an inexpensive massage oil…
What a pity many men are more concerned with their bodily fragrance than with the aroma of their personality - you can’t just splash on ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control’. You have to sweat at these!
Woman Alive monthly column
