I need something superbly awesome to do next Saturday, my planned but bailed-on wedding day. If I wore my wedding gown on the train up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art would I be mistaken for an installation? If you cross paths on the 1st with a petite brunette in misplaced trailing white chiffon, send me a wave!
I am into smelling people. I was about to adjust that statement but, no, it's true. If you are hugging me, I am going to sniff your clothes.
The sniffing to which I was about to allude is the getting caught in the cloud of strangers- the flavor carried by the wind away from the bodies of passers-by.
Granted there are occasional wallops of stank that force me to hold my breath until my lungs try to burst.
But most of the time it is soap and shampoo, laundry detergent and dryer sheets, delicate eau-de-toilettes and pheromone-antagonizing colognes. Each personalized by the individual bearer's body chemistry.
Yum! says my nose.