Way back in 1978, Scott gave me some fancy perfume for Christmas. It was oily and dark and likely procured with a five-fingered discount from the Devonshire Mall. After the breakup, my pal Karla replaced it with Chanel No. 5, telling me to jettison that Old Boyfriend Smell. Although I persevered, I felt stupid whenever I left the trailer park smelling like Catherine Deneuve. Truthfully, No. 5 stank on me. Was it a Poseur-marking litmus test? An olfactory version of the red ring in the pool? Given my wood-hewing, water-drawing, booze-making DNA, I was probably much better off with Avon.
Photo: A magazine add of our Miss Deneuve, Rich, blonde and properly French.
Inspired by: https://drinkthenewwine.blogspot.com/2026/10/fountain-pen-mojo.html
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