If forced to pigeonhole ourselves according to the Couples’ Lifestyles, Lifechoices and Lifehabits Categorisation System ™, Matt would probably class me as the risk-taking impulsive partner and himself as the more Steady Eddie type. He always knows what’s in his bank account; I rarely look. He makes checklists to give himself a sense of calm; I feel the panic rise in me when he brings one near. His idea of pleasure is planning and discussing contingencies; my idea of pleasure is murdering him when he does so… Okay, the last one’s a lie, but you get the picture. We’re plenty alike, but in this field, never the twain shall meet.
However, in spite of my tendency to be all Nike slogan in life, I can be surprisingly slow burn about my passions (the one area in life where I’m not only happy to make lists, but enter the world of Excel spreadsheets, for heaven’s sake). Thus, although I have splurged momentously in the past, I now seem to consider each new perfume purchase with weight, even though the scent screams ‘You must have me!’ in my head. And it’s not simply my finances that stop me – after all, I can afford these luxuries if I so choose…
After about three months of such deferment, I finally got round to phoning Hermes on Monday for a full bottle of Osmanthe Yunnan. My journey with this scent was as follows: first sniff – nice, light, not for me; second sniff – much more interesting than I first thought; third sniff – who made me think this wasn’t for me? I’m aroused, lustful, and this is the only thing to slake my ardour or sate my thirst, or the other way round. I know I love it; I can’t even think straight. And since then, I’ve put off buying it, ekeing out my 4ml sample like it was the sacred Tears of Thebes or somesuch, rather than a refreshing citrus-tea-apricot number. Yes, those large bottles are pricey and I have considered buying the smaller bottles for swapsies. But I knew, eventually, I’d go for the whole bottle. So why did I keep deferring it?
Other scents on this deferral list are Nuit Noire (I could rhapsodise ineloquently for an age about its beauty), Santal de Mysore, Chàªne, Mitsouko (which formulation? Could I really wear it?), Derby, Bois d’Armenie. Three of those have been pending for over eighteen months… Why don’t I just snap them up? It’s not just cost, I’m sure of it.
Please take this opportunity to tell me of your deferments or offer me counselling as you see fit. The writers of my favourite comment(s) (who knows how many I’ll like) will win a random grab from my overflowing samples boxes.
Now, the aside. There’s been a big debate – well, I say, big but mean more accurately titchy and interesting – about whether the tie has had its day. Venerable newsreaders have been commenting on its pointlessness and that it’s time to ditch this last vestige of male peacockery. So, what do you think? Do you prefer a tie to a triangle of pubic exuberance below a man’s neck? Or do you think that something which serves no other purpose than to point the way to a man’s genitals needs axing? My pet peeve is ‘comedy’ ties – nothing else brings out the sociopathic monster in me so readily…
Lemme know your thoughts.