To catch up on the adventures of Nawt so far, if you’re new to the story, you can go here.  This is the continuing adventures of Nawt Agin, with a new installment most Fridays, rookie perfumer for Irrational Fruity Florals, who has been contracted, against his will, better judgment and perfuming principles, to make the celebrity scent for Voracia Tatas, who is famous for absolutely nothing.

When we last left Nawt, Voracia Tatas, the woman he is making the celebuscent for, had spun out a story about being an orphan, raised by wolves and chattering nuns, and Nawt bursts into laughter….

Voracia: What are you laughing at? I mean, sure, my childhood is a bit odd, but I don’t think it deserves this cruel regard!

Nawt:  Voracia, I’m sorry, but you do know that Mauritius is not an island that would support wolves as occupants, much less enough remote land to hide an orphaned little wolf-girl for years?

Voracia:  How do you know?!  Have you ever been there?

Nawt:  Yes, I have.  My father’s family was originally from Madagascar, and we traveled to that area several times while I was growing up visiting family.

Voracia:  *looks perplexed*  Oh.  Well, it may not have been Mauritius or a Dodo bird, or maybe they were island wolves, not the sort you normally think of… bigger!  Or… monkeys.  Or was it Romania? I was young, and my memory is a little hazy on some details.  

Nawt:  Listen, Voracia, you really need to be honest with me. Getting yanked around with some fable is not how I like to spend my fictitious sick days.

Voracia: *a pause as Voracia stares off into space, deciding something, and she turns back with a look of resolution on her face* Nawt, we have a choice here. We can go with the childhood I’ve given you and believe that it lines up essentially with what was my childhood experience, though some details may be less clear in my head this many years later, or you can insist that I be more accurate on the details because truth is more important than avoiding facts that may be a little uglier and more pedestrian. Either way, the essentials are the same –my parents are dead from a car accident, I have no family, I was raised for a time by animals who, by turns, were cruel and kind.  I eventually was saved or rescued and taken to live with a bunch of chatty nuns, and Jean-Claude did make me a wonderful perfume with all the notes I gave you. 

Because it is my memory of my life, I’m going to insist on the details I prefer. If that doesn’t suit you, then, by all means, insist on accuracy, but I’ll not participate in that sort of vivisection of my life.  This 2.0 Version of Voracia’s Life spares me the looks of pity that long ago became unbearable and the endless dwelling on things that I can never change.

Nawt:  *long silence* So tell me, I’m curious, when they rescued you, did the pack try and protect you, or was it every wolf for itself?  It’s a miracle you survived, but it seems like they were as kind as wolves can be, no?

Voracia:  *smiles woflishly*  Definitely every wolf for itself, though my adoptive wolf-mom, Toofiika, did at least fight alongside me. That’s their nature, you know, so I expected nothing else.

(Voracia and Nawt giggle and then break out into hooting laughter, followed by companionable silence with the occasional chuckle)

Nawt:  So what time you want to head over to Unkie JCE’s hotel for dinner?

Voracia:   We should probably start soon, but I have to ask, why are you so hot to talk to Jean-Claude?

Nawt:  Oh… That. For a little while, I completely forgot why I’m so depressed.  Smell has been my life since I was little, it’s always fascinated me. My mom (Nawt smiles impishly) – um, the banished Queen of Finland — wore, of course, Chanel No. 5 most of the time, but she was one of the few women of that time that had more than one or two perfumes.  She must have had 20 bottles — Replique, Shalimar, Jicky — the classics… in parfum… Solid 24k gold bottles (smiles bigger).  She wore perfume every day.  My memories of her are wrapped up in those perfumes mingled with the smell of bacon or cinnamon rolls, or whatever else she was cooking or baking, and sweat from an overheated kitchen.  She spent a lot of time in the kitchen, which is unusual for deposed royals, but the housekeeper was more often than not off on some revolutionary escapade, which was pretty normal for Peru in those days . 

Mom died when I was in college.  To this day, when I smell Chanel No. 5, I also smell the bacon and sweat and I see her and feel like she’s right there beside me.

So, after my chemistry degree from college, I got a job interning at Irrational Fruity Florals for a summer. Usually you get shoved over into consumer scenting – smells for detergent, towels, bubblegum, the pedestrian stuff that’s their bread and butter.  I got lucky and worked in the perfumers’ division.  The first time I realized I could create a scent that had the aldehydes, bread, jasmine and sweat in it that smelled like my mother AND smelled great, I knew that’s all I wanted to do forever.  After my internship, I got hired on in a permanent position and worked my way into the perfumers’ division as an assistant.  Thus far, I’ve only been assisting on perfume projects, but I make all sorts of things for me and my friends just for the fun of it, honing my skills, waiting for the big olfactory break.

I knew I was close to getting my first lead assignment on a perfume, and I was so stoked. When they called my name for this one, no offense, but I was horrified.  Everyone knows that doing a celebufume is grunt work. They want the same thing every time. There’s no art to it, just sales.  While I understand the business side of things, I think there’s room for a little bit of artistic interpretation to get something similar, but with a little bit different mark of individuality.

After our meeting, where y’all shot down my ideas on making it distinctive, I had resigned myself to just doing the job and shutting up… Until I  read that Jean-Claude was in town.  I thought if anyone can give me some advice on what to do - how to make this or to buck up and be a good little perfumer and do my job - he would be the guy to point me in the right direction.

Voracia:  Ah.  Well then…. let’s scoot, Nawty!  I’ll drive.  This should turn out to be one of the more interesting nights of my life.

To be continued…

To catch up on the adventures of Nawt so far, if you’re new to the story, you can go here.  This is the continuing adventures of Nawt Agin, with a new installment most Fridays, rookie perfumer for Irrational Fruity Florals, who has been contracted, against his will, better judgment and perfuming principles, to make the celebrity scent for Voracia Tatas, who is famous for absolutely nothing.

When we last left Nawt, he had tracked down Jean Claude Ellena, Perfumer Par Excellence, bumped into Voracia Tatas, the woman he is making the celebuscent for, who turns out to know JCE since her early years, speaks 16 languages, and is not a dim bulb as we all had thought.  JCE turns out to speak English, and he promises to meet them both for dinner.  So we are left with Nawt and Voracia sitting down for a cup of coffee as Voracia tells the truth about who she is…

Nawt: I think I deserve some explanation, please, Voracia.  You really had me going with that dumb, vapid act.

Voracia:  Oh, pish-tosh, we’ll get to that. Listen, let me grab a cup of coffee for us both, and then I’ll explain.  BTW, the name isn’t Voracia, it’s Ann.

Nawt:  Ann?  Just plain Ann? No last name?

Voracia:  *giggles*  Oh, sorry, no need for that anymore.  Inegma. Ann Inegma, though my nickname has been Voracia for quite some time.  

Nawt:  Of course it is.  By all means, go, get the coffee, I’ll wait here. *Nawt drums his fingers on the table as he watches the spectacularly shaped Ms. Inegma make her way to the counter, order and head back to the table*

Voracia: Well, where were we?  Oh, yes, who am I? You do have some time, this could take a while?  I really feel bad that I played pretend with you, but it was necessary.  I need to go back quite a number of years.  My father and Jean Claude knew each other in Europe, which is where I spent quite a lot of time as a girl, until my parents were tragically killed in a Dodo bird accident when I was 8. 

Nawt:  A what?

Voracia: Dodo bird accident. 

Nawt: They’re extinct.

Voracia:  Well, they are now, but just hush, I’ll tell you the story. We were traveling in Mauritius on an expedition to find what, by one report, was a Dodo bird. The Dodo, as you say, has been extinct for 300 years, so this was great news, if true.  As we were traveling by night in the area the Dodo bird had reportedly been last seen in, a large object hit our windshield – the car ran off the road, hit a tree, and both of my parents were killed instantly.  I was in the back seat of the car asleep with Tantalus, my rag doll, and survived. *Voracia reaches in her purse and pulls out a slightly stuffed, reeking rag*  See, Tantalus? Meet Mr. Nawt.  I always keep him with me.  I know he’s worn and smelly, but I can’t bear to be parted with him.  Okay, Tanty, time to go back to bed.  *she places him gently back in her purse and stares lovingly at it for a while*

Nawt:  Voracia? Voracia!

Voracia: *Voracia looks back up and snaps her teeth, then shakes her head*

Nawt: *draws back quickly* I’m really sorry about your parents, but I’m also afraid… to ask… what hit the windshield?

Voracia:  The Dodo bird, of course. Now they really are extinct.

Nawt:  Of course. Please, continue on.

Voracia:  Well, the accident, of course, woke me up, and I must have gone into shock for days, as I wandered the woods with Tantalus.  This was a very remote area of the world, and I only survived because I was adopted by a pack of wolves.

Nawt:  Wait, wait, wait.  Wolves?  Like the big, gray, furry, wild animals? Those wolves?

Voracia: Yes!  They’re quite intelligent and put big store on the family.  Except for Hector, who I am still convinced was a lycanthrope and not an actual wolf, he just had a humanish look about the mouth.  After two years, a group of hunters discovered our pack, killed several of my family in some misguided rescue attempt and ripped me away from the bosom of my new family,  though I can’t say I was sorry to see that Hector was among the slain. I was quite distraught, as you might imagine, and it took me some time to assimilate back into just speaking instead of growling, barking, walking on all fours and eating small, furry, darting animals.  (drawing from Klaudia Marr Gallery)

My parents were very much do-gooders with no living family except me, and there was no one with the time and ability to deal with a little wolf girl who didn’t speak and was prone to biting with no warning.  My parents’ friends prevailed upon the Sisters of Unending Chatter, who had educated me before the accident, to take me in as a boarder.  It’s a little known Order who, instead of taking a vow of silence, takes a Vow of Chatter, talking 24 hours a day in 6-hour shifts. It is there that I slowly returned to being human… going from just snapping in annoyance at the ceaseless noise to howling, which turned into a more human screaming, then talking, and then taking my turn chattering.

You would have liked them, I think… the wolves. Keen sense of smell. Though they tended to like things that smelled more of rotting flesh.  Jean Claude spent a lot of time with me through those years, using smell to help bring me back into the more human realm. It was during that time that he created my perfume, “Untamed Beauty,” and now you probably understand the source of the name and my nickname, Voracia.  Great scent, I do need to bring you a sample.  Animalic base, almost wolfish, little leather and fur, a slight hint of rot and skank — well, maybe not so slight – from the jasmine and gardenia, enveloped by raw woods and crushed leaves, with a perky top that lures you into thinking it’s just another pretty scent until your nose keeps bumping into what’s under the leaves… something dead and a little mangled. Doubtful it would have broad appeal.

Once I came of age, there was no money for college, it was up to me to make my way in the world. There is very little call for a young woman who looks like me, speaks 16 languages, and was raised by wolves and nuns. 

Nawt: Pity. 

Voracia:  Yes, it sure is.  I moved to California, hoping to escape some of the painful memories Europe held for me. Unfortunately, I am not a particularly talented person in any one area, so I wound up with a couple of bit parts in bad movies, which were panned - my performance and the movie - universally, and I slowly slipped into the Hollywood party circuit, mostly because they remind me a lot of the Chattering Sisters and the Wolves — felt like home, you know? – but without the morality, compassion, intelligence, and charity.  In Hollywood, it’s easier and better to play dumb than to let people know I was smart, so I slowly cultivated this exterior. It cut down on the questions of why I sometimes growled or pounced on small, furry animals or chattered nonstop for hours. 

It did occurr to me at some point that I could be a “good hot bad girl” too, but Santa Badgerlina already has that reality role locked up. How in the world did she get sainted? This woman is tattooed over most of her body with badgers, plays with scythes and fangs, used to wear her ex-husband’s kidney around her waist, offhandedly remarkr to “Vanity Fair” that she’s into bestiality, and somehow she’s now regarded as all that is good, moral and wonderful in the world?!  Sorry, it’s my early training, I really never know when to shut up once I get going — well, I do know, but I have to remember I’m not on the Talk Clock ® anymore.

Anyway…  I had to find a way to make a living, and so far all I’ve managed to do is play dumb and get paid to show up at parties.   My parents would be horrified if they could see me now… my life is truly an agonizing scream of superficiality.  I’ve gotten the act down so well, I’m actually starting to become Voracia on too many days. 

So… that’s all.

There is silence for seconds and then minutes as Nawt just stares, and then he bursts out laughing

 To be continued…

To catch up on the adventures of Nawt so far, if you’re new to the story, you can go here.  This is the continuing adventures of Nawt Agin, rookie perfumer for Irrational Fruity Florals, who has been contracted, against his will, better judgment and perfuming principles, to make the celebrity scent for Voracia Tatas, who is famous for absolutely nothing.

When we last left Nawt, he had tracked down The Man, The Myth, The Legend, Every Woman’s Dream Homeslice, Jean Claude Ellena – hoping for some words of wisdom on how to make a celebrity scent and meet customer specs, but still make a good perfume.  Upon finding Dreamy JCE, he finds he speaks no English. In desperation, he asks Jean Claude to wait inside a restaurant while he runs down every person in sight to find someone who speaks French, to no avail. Off in the distance appears one super-hot woman, slinking her way towards them. As she gets closer, Nawt sees it is… Voracia.

Voracia:  Hey, Perfume Man, I know you!!!

Nawt:  (adjusting his glasses) Voracia?  Oh, so good to see you, really.

Voracia:  *squealing delightedly*  I knew it was you!  How’s my perfume coming… oh, look at that bridge, I wonder how they built that?

Nawt:  Listen, Voracia, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m on a very urgent errand, and I need someone to do some translation.

Voracia:  (her demeanor has shifted a little as her eyes actually focus on Nawt) What language?

Nawt:  (hesitantly)  Um, French…

Voracia: Oh, I can help with that. My Farsi and Portugese are a little rusty, but French is no problem. 

Nawt:  How many languages do you speak?

Voracia: (counts on fingers) 16, I think?  Not counting island dialects like Puerto Rican and Figiian. (there is a long pause while Nawt just stares at her) Well, it was the 20 years of Latin…

Nawt:  *stares in puzzlement at Voracia, who is now looking at him with bright, intelligent, focused eyes, and her body language has changed completely to alert, but still drop-dead bombshell*  Um… okay!  Follow me.

 (they walk into the restaurant where Nawt has stowed JCE)

Nawt:  This is Jean Claude Ellena, and I need to talk to him desperately. Can you please translate?

JCE:  *Turns around, sees Voracia, claps his hands excitedly* Voracia, mon cheri! Ca fait trop longtemps. Vous m’avez manqué.  (Thanks to CarmenCanada, the French is correct, and it means “it has been too long. I have missed you terribly.”)

Voracia:  Jean Claude! Qu’une surprise!

Nawt:  You two know each other?!?!?!?

Voracia:  Oh, yes!  I’ve known Jean Claude for years.  He and my father went to school together when they were boys.  He made a perfume for me when I was a teenager called “Untamed Beauty.”  Yeah, I know, it’s a hokey name, but it fit at the time.  It is simply divine and the dearest scent I own. Even though I have probably over 1,000 bottles of perfume, it is the one I wear at least every week. It is perfection!

Nawt:  *whose jaw has hit the floor* Wha — how — you — I don’t understand at all. I need to sit down for a second.  You are not the person I met before, not even close, not even the same planet or universe of person –

JCE:  Excusi!! I am sorry for the subterfuge, I do speak English, but I get weary of this (gesturing at the cloud around his feet) and try these little ruses to see if it will dissipate.  Right this second, though, I must be on my way, I am already late for the awards ceremony.  Voracia, my pet, I had no idea you were living here, and we must spend some time together or I will just perish.  Will you both be my guests for dinner tonight?

Voracia:  Of course!  Nawt, are you free?

Nawt:  *manages to nod while still trying to keep his mouth closed*

JCE:  Perfect!  I am at the Four Seasons under the name Jean Claude Roudnitska — little inside joke there.  Please come by 7:00, and we will have much time to chat and do introductions to your friend, um….

Nawt:  *croaks* Nawwwt.

JCE:  I must be off. Until tonight!  (he bends and brings Voracia’s hand to his lips and then kisses Nawt on both cheeks)

Voracia:  Until then!

Nawt:  *staring at Voracia with eyebrows knit together*  Well?  Whenever you want to enlighten me, I’m ready.

Voracia:  *smiles brightly and takes Nawt’s hand*  Well, of course you are confused. Come, sit down, let’s have coffee, and I will explain everything.

As they take their table JCE heads out the door blowing kisses back at Voracia with his cloud still at his feet swirling, full of women and perfume bottles….

To be continued…

Original artwork by Adam Smith

To catch up on the adventures of Nawt so far, if you’re new, you can go here.  This is the continuing adventures of Nawt Agin, rookie perfumer for Irrational Fruity Florals

When we last left Nawt, he was waking up from a very bad dream.  After a very sleepless night, Nawt was sitting in front of a big mug of coffee, inhaling deeply (smelling everything deeply was a habit) and reading the newspaper.  A story caught his eye.  Jean Claude Ellena was in town!  Could this be what he was looking for?  Could the perfect JCE help him?  And what truly did he want JCE to help him with? He knew he could make the Celebridrool that he had been assigned to do, it would be easy, could do it with his beakers tied behind his back, but maybe JCE could tell him how to turn it around into something really good, and it just wouldn’t hurt to meet The Man.

Nawt checked the article for JCE’s itinerary and picked up the phone and dialed.

Nawt:  (nasal, choked voice) Halooo?  Yes, dis is Dawt.  Dawt I said, N-a-w-t.  yes, Dawt.  Sick tuday, berry, won’t be in. With what?  Dose broke.  Dose, n-o-s-e.  Can’t sbell, sssssmmmmelllll.  Tanks.

He hung up the phone, headed into the shower and got dressed.  Two hours later, he was pulling up to the museum where JCE was due to receive an award.  He parked and waited.

Off in the distance he saw something odd walking down the street. It looked like a man, an impossibly good-looking and distinguished man — Nawt felt a little breathless just looking at him —  but around his feet was some kind of cloud.  He got out of the car to get a better look.

As the man got closer, he saw it was definitely a dust cloud of some sort around his feet, but there were things popping up out of it.  Really random things… like a… perfume bottle?  And was that a cunning Red Manolo heel in there?  Attached to a very shapely leg?

Nawt stood dumbfounded as the Man in Cloud approached.  From his chiseled cheekbones, graying hair at the temples to the luminous smile, this was the most perfect man Nawt had ever seen.  He could now make out what was in the cloud, it was women engaged in a catfight – two, maybe three or more — and perhaps some perfume? as The Man walked on, oblivious to what was happening under his feet.

And… it WAS Jean Claude Ellena.

Nawt:  Monsieur Ellena, Monsieur Ellena, I beg you, can I have a moment of your time!

JCE:  Slowing down, he stopped, and the cloud of women and perfume continued to swirl beneath his feet. He turned to Nawt and aimed his beatific smile at him and said:  Je ne parle pas l’anglais.

Nawt:  What?  You speak English, right?

JCE:  Looks perplexed, smiles radiantly, smelling divine, shrugs, starts to walk away.

Nawt:  No, no, wait. I’ll find someone to speak French. Just wait, don’t go anywhere!!

(Nawt looks around, starts stopping people and cars, asking them if they speak French, gets ignored, spat on or handed a quarter. He’s getting desperate and then he spies a familiar face….

Voracia:  Hey, Perfume Man, I know you!!!

To be continued…

Original artwork by Adam Smith

Due to popular demand, the saga shall continue at least for a while longer.

We last left poor Nawt Agin with his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He left the office early, went home, cooked up some nice mac and cheese and a Klonopin and Padron cocktail and headed for bed, hoping the sunrise would somehow erase this day from his mind.

Meanwhile, across town, at the offices of Perfumes ‘R Us, DicK Nosmell has been called into a meeting with his boss, Daddy Perfumebucks.

Daddy: Sit down, DicK, and tell me, what’s in the hopper about to pop out and make us more money?

DicK:  *sucking up wildly* Yes, sir, happy to! We’ve just signed Voracia Tata, and that scent is in the pipeline.  Peeris Hyatt’s third scent, Overexposed, is due out next week, we’ve rolled out the big marketing blitz, which may be more complicated if she’s in jail, but we’re hoping we can somehow use that to give it a dangerous edge.  We think we’ll get a rap artists signed soon and one of those former girl banders.

Daddy:  Tell me about the perfumes, what do they smell like?

DicK:  *pauses, looks perplexed*  What? The scents — you mean what they smell like?

Daddy:  Why are you repeating what I said? Yes, smell like, as in scent, perfume, to smell, wafting aroma.

DicK:  Well, pretty much the same as every other perfume we’ve done for the last six years — we stay with the formula and the market research data. Something kind of hairy and studly for the boys and sweet vanilla or fruity floral for the girls.

Daddy:  I think we need a change of direction, we should put out something worthwhile, that smells unique and expresses the society we live in.

DicK:  *starts laughing* You got me, you sly dog!  Yeah, like we want to make some perfume called Post Coital Meth Hit …. *Dick continues laughing, looks up, sees Daddy Perfumebucks isn’t laughing at all, gulps hard*  You can’t be  serious.

Daddy:  *growls* Why, yes, I think I am. I think we should, first, ditch these thugs, coke whores and untalented Hollywood wannabes and start signing up serious people with a point of view or a philanthropic mission, like Santa Maria Angelina. We should make a perfume of substance, something that will be around 50 years from now, after we’re both dead and gone, and use a portion of the profits to help the victims in Darfur.  I’ve gone through most of my life already just making money on crap, and I’d like to leave something behind that means something…

(back across town, Nawt is tossing fitfully in his sleep, bolts upright, looks around)  Where’s Daddy and DicK? Where’s the Darfur perfume?!?!?  Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

*Dick breaks down into uncontrollable sobbing again, curled up in the fetal position*

I keep forgetting I had a drawing a while back that I hadn’t finished. So I picked two winners for their pick of the two Tom Ford samples of their choice: Mikael and cjj88.  Just hit the contact us button over there on the left and send me your address and which two you would like, and I’ll pop them in the mail.  Thanks to everyone who played!

Okay, best perfume dream you would hate to wake up from and find out it wasn’t true and/or worst perfume nightmare you would be glad to wake up from?

Setting:  Irrational Fruity Florals, prestige perfumers’ conference room.  Nawt Agin has been summoned to the regular Monday assignments meeting with the other perfumers.  There’s a lot of shuffling and gossiping around the table as they get ready to start. 

Head Perfumer Sniffee:  Quiet, quiet. 

*still more shuffling and whispering, as if Sniffee had not spoken*  

HP Sniffee:  Hey!  You!  Molecule Humps, quiiiiiiiiet!!!!!!!!!!!  We’ve got a couple of new perfumes to get assigned, and I’ve got another meeting with Tom (perfumers all gasp and start whispering) in five minutes! so we need to get out of here.  First up, Freddy wants to do something called Italian Mama, the companion perfume to French Lover, something meant to evoke meat sauces, bread and pasta….  Let’s see…..  Ivanda Nunose, that one is all yours.

*groans from other perfumers as Ivanda preens and gloats*

Sniffee: Next up is the latest celebutard perfume.  This, of course, will be a groundbreaking scent with notes of….. um, fruit…. and….. ready for it? (all pefumers are slumped down in their chairs trying to hide) floral.  The celebrity is the hugely talented coke whore, Voracia Tata. And the lucky perfumer to create the frooty floral masterpiece for Ms. Tatas is…. (he looks at each perfumer in the room, hesitates, looks at another, looks back, stretching out the agony) Nawt Again!  Congratulations!

Nawt Agin:  No, please, I beg — no, I’m pleading, I’ll be your lackey, I’ll make scents for your grandmother, your sister, your children and grandchildren and dog, if only you give this to someone else. Give it to the new guy!

Sniffee:  You are the new guy. You haven’t done a celebutard scent yet, it’s your turn, and you have ameeting with her, her agent and DicK Nosmell this afternoon.  Okay, that’s it for this week, go shake something good up, and see ya next week.

(Nawt scurries past the laughter of his colleagues, back to his office, head hung down, feet shuffling, sits down in his chair and sighs)  What am I going to do?  I’d sooner be back in detergent scenting than do this! Maybe I can talk them into something creative and unusual. Yeah, that’s it, I’ll use my charm and knowledge and sell them on a really great perfume!

*it is now 3 p.m., time for the meeting with DicK, Nawt, Fifteen and Voracia.  Nawt is already in the conference room, with several vials of interesting notes and combinations in front of him, when the secretary brings in DicK, Fifteen and Voracia.  After some preliminary greetings, including Voracia popping a Xanax and walking into a closet, they all sit down*

Nawt:  I’ve got some great ideas for your perfume, Voracia. It will be groundbreaking, something that’s never been done before. I intend to blend a salty musk with tuberose–

*Voracia looks confused and then closes her eyes*

DicK:  No, no, stop that, we do this every time, but let’s go through it again… slowly. Studies show that people like happy perfumes, not sweaty crap, except those perfume freaks on the internet.  We want something happy and bubbly.  Fruit is happy and bubbly, make sure it has fruit in it.

Voracia:  Yes, I like fruit, especially bananas!  Can it have bananas?

Nawt: Okay, something fruity, a lime-based perfume with some vetiver to give it depth, or horses are happy, how about a nice leather something that –

DicK:  No, not vetiver, not leather, not now, not ever. This should be very feminine, like the lovely Voracia, and sultry without being slutty, unlike the lovely Voracia.  Throw in some flowers.

Nawt:  Fruit?  and Florals?

DicK:  Now you’re diggin’ where there’s taters.

Fifteen:  So how much can we expect to make here, DicK?  I want something that flies off the shelf and puts green in Voracia and my’s pocket.

Nawt: Well, I have to caution you, there are a lot of frooty florals out there already, that market is saturated, so I really don’t think –

DicK: Who cares?!?!  it’s not about the perfume, it’s about the style, the  experience. We want to sell this to women who want to BE Voracia, out at Les Deux at night and The Ivy for lunch, mingling with stars, shopping on Robertson.  Nobody cares what it smells like. That’s like the 10th thing on a list of ten things that the consumer cares about when it comes to perfume.  Come on, Nawt, didn’t anyone ever teach you that? Why does Sniffee always give us the FNG?

Nawt:  But if you want to do something unique and special, I highly recommend that you stay away from the fruit and the floral put together.

Fifteen:  We want something that sells, sells, sells, I don’t care what it smells like as long as it sells.

Nawt:  If it’s about the style and not the juice, then let’s make something great, with complexity and –

DicK: No!  As soon as they pop that cap on the bottle, I want it to be nonoffensive and sweet and the girls to go, “oh, that smells goooood!”  That’s fruit and floral, that’s what I want you to make.  Okay, we’re done here.  Let’s go.  We have a bottle to design.

*with that, DicK, Voracia and Fifteen exit, leaving Nawt with his head in his hands crying*

To be continued….

So you get to pick the perfumer to make a scent for you. Who would make it, and what would the juice smell like?

Every now and then I have these, um, ”scenarios” that run in my head. No, it’s not my imaginary friends again or the Lancer boys, but I just think through how a series of conversations must go, which gives me no end of amusement and hilarity most of the time.  You all also need a break from the Tom Fords.  My last comment on them.  Some I liked, some I loved, some I hated, some I went meh on, but the one thing I truly enjoyed about all of them… no generic fruity florals.  Each was different, had its own style and concept, even though I think Tom “borrowed” some ideas from other great perfumes.

With that said, indulge me while I play-act out one of my favorites head-scenes.

Act 1

Setting: Voracia Tatas has become the new “It” girl in Hollywood – she made one mildly successful and horribly scripted, directed and acted movie; dresses in  the latest designer fashions given to her for free; has starved her body to within an inch of her life; has one of those oversized bobble heads most models/actors have; has a similarly oversized, ample, plasticky bosom; and has only exposed her vajayjay once accidentally when getting into her Lexus after a night of drunken debauchery and too many visits to the bathroom at Les Deux.  Movie offers are thin now because she really can’t act, but she’s still at all the best parties and nightclubs 8 days of the week and has been seen leaving nightclubs with the hottest B-list studs – all of which is documented every week in People, Us, Life & Style, OK, etc.

DicK Nosmell, VP of New Products and Marketing for Perfumes ‘r Us  has to come up with 100 new perfumes launches every year since the 50 they launched in the last six months ago stop selling after people smell them – new ones must take their place.  He is an avid follower of Voracia Tatas and has identified her as the next pseudo-celebrity they should sign to launch a fragrance.  He’s had his girl call Voracia’s agent, Fifteen Persente, and they have scheduled a meeting to discuss terms, what each wants and hopefully to seal the deal.  The following takes place in DicK’s office.

DicK:  So, listen, this is what we have in mind. Voracia, you are a fashion icon, are at all the best clubs, have all the best studs at your beck and call, and we believe that you are the next J.Lo/Britney/Paris/Hohan.  You are It, and there are millions of teenagers and young women that want to smell like you — in three words… you are hot, Hot, HOT!!!

Voracia:  (preens) Oh, koolz!  I wear Infant perfume –  I can just sell that?

Fifteen: No, Voracia.  They want to make a perfume with your name on it.

Voracia:  (squeals and claps hands)  That is sooooo awesome, I have always and ever wanted my name on a bottle of Infant.  I rulz!

DicK:  No, no, we need to make a brand new perfume - not Infant - to put your name on, although…. no, no, we have to make a new perfume.  What we need to do is capture your essence in a bottle, and we’ll all be rich!

Voracia:  (tries to knit over-botoxed brows together and purse lips that have been puffed to 3x their normal size… only succeeds in looking more vacant and… yeah, sick) My essence?  Does this involve bodily fluids? My doctor said I need to avoid that sort of contact for the next  ten — no -  (counts on fingers) -  eight days.

DicK:  Not literally, Voracia. We just need to capture the sense of who you are — glamorous, beautiful, hot… it! — and put it in a bottle. We’ll hire a perfumer from Irrational Fruity Florals, who is an expert, and he’ll sit down with you and let you smell some notes, find out what you like, and you will wind up creating something that fits you perfectly.

(Voracia stares off vacantly at a spider in the corner)

Fifteen:  How much?  We want an upfront fee and residuals on sales.

DicK:  Absolutely. We’d rather not pay as much upfront because most of the money will be made years from now as the perfume becomes a highly sought after classic. The sales of this masterpiece of perfumery should provide for Voracia’s grandchildren’s future. (Dick smiles slyly as he turns his head)

Fifteen:  (puts on best “killer” face on as he realizes the game)  No, that’s not how it’s going to work.  We want most of it up front and smaller residuals.  That’s the deal, take it or leave it.

DicK:  (looking confident, he knows he has won).  Okay, leave it.  We have 50 other celebrities that are lined up wanting their own perfume.  The deal is the deal, no negotiating.  (slides paper across the table)  That’s the up front and the residuals.

Fifteen and Voracia look at the paper, whisper furiously back and forth for ten seconds, until Voracia loses interest and resumes staring into space.  Fifteen looks at her, shakes head and surrenders…

Fifteen:  Okay, fine, we’ll take it.  When do we start?

DicK: I’ll have my girl set up a meeting with a perfume from Irrational Fruity Florals next week. You’ll be hearing from me.

Stay tuned for Act II, where Voracia, Fifteen and DicK meet with Nawt Agin, the perfumer from Irrational Fruity Florals that has been selected for this “prestigous” project.

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You get to be DicK and pick your celebrity to make a perfume with.  Which celebrity, dead or alive, would you most like to smell a perfume they helped create, and which celebrity would you least like to smell a perfume they helped create?  Bonus points for saying what it would smell like.