Olfactory records

[j4]

At the junction at the bottom of Castle Hill a cyclist pulled up alongside me, and she smelt so strongly of the Body Shop's "Dewberry" range that I felt like I was a teenager again, worrying that using deodorant would make my parents think I was seeing boys (because why else would you want to smell nice or shave your legs?). I still hate that dewberry scent; it's like boiled sweets without the tastiness, or flowers without the naturalness, or summer holidays without friends. (I thought for ages that it was a made-up fruit, but actually it's not.)

And as I walked along Sidney Street I passed a greasy-haired boy, undergraduate age I suppose (though they look so young and so on and so forth), who was standing by the wall and eating a pasty from a paper bag. Right at the moment when I passed him there was a huge papery pastryish munching sound, and I got a hot blast of the smells of lard-soaked pastry and gristly meat.

I think on balance I preferred the pasty to the dewberry, which probably says something about me.

Not something very interesting, though. But never mind.

Comments

[boyofbadgers.livejournal.com]

Oddly enough, we were talking about Dewberry and how vile it was at the Kristin gig last night. The overwhelming consensus was that white musk was the wise option if you were going to rock Body Shop perfumes.