Cologne: (n) scented toilet water or aftershave.
Just for the record (and if my vote counts) I firmly believe that all toilet water should be scented. I don’t know what other purpose the water
would have if it was out of its bowl, if it was not scented.
And I, for one, believe human beings are better if they smell good.
That may be because I’ve always been a portly fellow and greatly feared the stereotype of “all fat people stink.”
In other words, I don’t want some cloud of “p.u.” to descend on me in a moment when my deodorant is in retreat, my soap sniff has disappeared and my cologne is totally exhausted.
Without being too graphic, I put cologne everywhere. I don’t know why. There are places it seems unnecessary. In other words, not a normally high-traffic area. However, those regions are notorious for sprouting aromas which are generally deemed unpleasant.
So part of my morning ritual is to “smell up”–so that later on I don’t have to “smell down.”
I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve developed a reputation for nose approval.
I’m sure I’ve overdone it. For instance, folks should not be able to “smell you coming,” yet I have had people identify me from another room, knowing I was present long before they eyeballed me.
I also mix fragrances of cologne–once again, depending on the different parts of the body, a splash may work somewhere and more expensive stuff to don the face.
I must acknowledge at this point that I have already overworked this subject. Possibly I lost your attention a couple of paragraphs ago.
You may think I am paranoid about any type of normal human body odor. You would be correct.
I am not trying to evangelize my obsession with cologne. I have met people who hate it, and some who even insist they are allergic.
But until future notice, I will be an island of fragrance instead of a land of “stinky poo.”
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