"Have you rolled in gunpowder? What is it you are smelling of?" he said with an air of surprised distaste. This is what my tender 14 year old years met with one memorable afternoon as I was decked to the nines to go play at a piano concert organized by the Conservatoire. The delivering agent of the comment that would apparently shutter my childlike innocence was my own beloved father as we were entering the car, off to a -not so good- start to the concert in question. Flubberbusted and quite self-conscious for the rest of the afternoon (of which I have little recollection otherwise) I was rolling the info I had on the innocuous Anais Anais by Cacharel I had just sprayed on in the back corridor of my mind.
The guy has a good nose, you see, and I never for one minute doubted he would not be smelling what he said he was smelling. It's enough to make you a bit paranoid, though; if Anais Anais smells of gunpowder (on your skin? in general? who knows?), then what the hell do other, less conspicuous but more questionable, smells really smell of to those meeting you? Still, the experience was enough to make me doubt my perception and to start paying more attention to everything my father remarked on regarding smells.
It took me years to finally figure our that yes, my father had his nose screwed on the right way (this sounds much naughtier than it it's intended to be) and that yup, he was in fact smelling gunpowder indeed. It just wasn't coming from my Cacharel perfume, but rather from the Normaderm spot treatment gel which I used as a precaution on my forehead to deter stray pimples forming from my mousse-ed bangs sticking to it. The treatment contained sulfur, as I found out later on. In retrospect it's a good thing he didn't say I smelled of rotten eggs instead (which are highly sulfurous), my confidence would have been shredded to pieces and I doubt I would have ventured beyond the car. But the story goes to show that a weird comment regarding our scent can have an impact on our day; sometimes if we're obsessive enough, on more than one day. I mean, look at me, I'm rambling on something that happened years and years ago (more than I care to mention)!
I guess not everyone is as occupied as I was at 14 with what impression they give when going out wearing their latest perfume fling. (All right, all adolescents are a bit wrapped up in how they present themselves to the world, so take that statement at its face value). Otherwise things like Burger King fragrance or Zombie cologne spray wouldn't even be possible. But apparently they are, so there's something there. Do some of us secretly hide a frat-boy in our heart of hearts, longing to play pranks and engage in
And why are we so horrified of giving the wrong impression via our smell, much more so than our fashion sense, our world views or our home decorating? Probably because like the state of our complexion it is a biological indicator that speaks volumes without uttering a sound and, at the same time, like the books that we like or the art we enjoy a gauge of our taste & statement of the self.
So fire away in the comments: what are the weirdest comments you have had on your fragrance? I'm dying to know.