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Saturday
March 20, 2010 Since 1922 |
Working at smelling so sweet
By Jim Finley
Contributor Published November 10, 2009 The scene was inside an elevator at a Harris County courthouse. It was headed downward, carrying me with it.
A well-dressed woman — overcome with sweet fumes, and without prompting — said, “You sure do smell good.”
As I looked about the elevator, I noticed she and I were alone. Thusly, it had to be me she was referring to.
Thank you, I replied, like the perfect gentleman I try to be.
“It’s sad,” she continued. “I wish more men would follow your lead and try to smell better.”
Thank you, I said again, enjoying the ride downward.
“What’s that you’re wearing?” she wondered aloud.
Lagerfeld Photo, I replied.
“Think I’ll get some for my fellow,” she pledged as she exited the elevator on the second floor.
I figured she was an attorney at law, or quite possibly a murder defendant. But it didn’t matter. She had made my day.
I swear by Ralph Lauren the preceding story is at least 95 percent accurate, my normal guarantee.
I’m never one to boast, but I get these odorous-type compliments all the time. But I should since I work at it.
Smelling good has been a lifelong passion, a lifelong goal. I remember where it got its roots.
This will break your heart, but I started wanting to smell good because one of my dearest high school friends didn’t. Now, he didn’t stink, per se, but he had this musky smell about him.
I desperately wanted something better.
Not so coincidentally, this happened at the exact same time in our lives when girls were becoming far more important than, say, schoolwork, or even reporting for the school newspaper. Indeed, without hesitation, we were now placing girls on the same level as cars and football, all the truly important stuff.
It’s true, I had a lot going for me. I was handsome and quite the athlete, and I could use the family’s 1953 Plymouth just about anytime I wanted.
But all this wouldn’t matter if I didn’t smell good. I was smart enough to know that much.
It was about this time that I turned to popular after-shave liquids of the day — Mennen Skin Bracer and Ice Blue Aqua Velva. Both sold for under a buck at the time and would give me that finishing touch that few other men of my day had.
Back then, I only had 11 whiskers on one side of my face and 14 on the other. And they only needed removal every four days or so.
But that wasn’t the point. Smelling good was.
It must have worked, because I had any number of dates during my high school years. Soon, girls far outdistanced the importance of even cars and football.
In addition to my other talents, I also worked as a sacker at Meadors Grocery on Saturdays. Thusly, Mennen Skin Bracer, which I preferred, became sort of like a Secret Weapon for me. Let me explain:
We didn’t close until 7 p.m., there at Meadors, which had the tendency of cutting into my courtin’ time — a no-no — if I had to rush home to shave and bathe. But I had my priorities in order. Plus that Secret Weapon.
What I did was, I’d use a portion of my $4 paycheck to buy a new bottle of Skin Bracer, use approximately 5.4 fluid gallons on my face, neck and arms, and off to pick-up my date I’d go — the best smelling man in town.
Pretty smart, don’t you think?
I follow many of those same hygienic principles today. Except for what I spend on one bottle of Lagerfeld Photo, I could have purchased 65 bottles of Mennen Skin Bracer as a teen.
The downside? Those 65 bottles would have lasted me only three weeks, if that.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published November 10, 2009 The scene was inside an elevator at a Harris County courthouse. It was headed downward, carrying me with it.
A well-dressed woman — overcome with sweet fumes, and without prompting — said, “You sure do smell good.”
As I looked about the elevator, I noticed she and I were alone. Thusly, it had to be me she was referring to.
Thank you, I replied, like the perfect gentleman I try to be.
“It’s sad,” she continued. “I wish more men would follow your lead and try to smell better.”
Thank you, I said again, enjoying the ride downward.
“What’s that you’re wearing?” she wondered aloud.
Lagerfeld Photo, I replied.
“Think I’ll get some for my fellow,” she pledged as she exited the elevator on the second floor.
I figured she was an attorney at law, or quite possibly a murder defendant. But it didn’t matter. She had made my day.
I swear by Ralph Lauren the preceding story is at least 95 percent accurate, my normal guarantee.
I’m never one to boast, but I get these odorous-type compliments all the time. But I should since I work at it.
Smelling good has been a lifelong passion, a lifelong goal. I remember where it got its roots.
This will break your heart, but I started wanting to smell good because one of my dearest high school friends didn’t. Now, he didn’t stink, per se, but he had this musky smell about him.
I desperately wanted something better.
Not so coincidentally, this happened at the exact same time in our lives when girls were becoming far more important than, say, schoolwork, or even reporting for the school newspaper. Indeed, without hesitation, we were now placing girls on the same level as cars and football, all the truly important stuff.
It’s true, I had a lot going for me. I was handsome and quite the athlete, and I could use the family’s 1953 Plymouth just about anytime I wanted.
But all this wouldn’t matter if I didn’t smell good. I was smart enough to know that much.
It was about this time that I turned to popular after-shave liquids of the day — Mennen Skin Bracer and Ice Blue Aqua Velva. Both sold for under a buck at the time and would give me that finishing touch that few other men of my day had.
Back then, I only had 11 whiskers on one side of my face and 14 on the other. And they only needed removal every four days or so.
But that wasn’t the point. Smelling good was.
It must have worked, because I had any number of dates during my high school years. Soon, girls far outdistanced the importance of even cars and football.
In addition to my other talents, I also worked as a sacker at Meadors Grocery on Saturdays. Thusly, Mennen Skin Bracer, which I preferred, became sort of like a Secret Weapon for me. Let me explain:
We didn’t close until 7 p.m., there at Meadors, which had the tendency of cutting into my courtin’ time — a no-no — if I had to rush home to shave and bathe. But I had my priorities in order. Plus that Secret Weapon.
What I did was, I’d use a portion of my $4 paycheck to buy a new bottle of Skin Bracer, use approximately 5.4 fluid gallons on my face, neck and arms, and off to pick-up my date I’d go — the best smelling man in town.
Pretty smart, don’t you think?
I follow many of those same hygienic principles today. Except for what I spend on one bottle of Lagerfeld Photo, I could have purchased 65 bottles of Mennen Skin Bracer as a teen.
The downside? Those 65 bottles would have lasted me only three weeks, if that.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.