Sunday, June 20, 2010

whiffenpoof...on and on.

Oh, my guys and your glorious guesses have entertained my fatass like you wouldn't believe -- and jarred my ancient brain in remembering SO MANY cheap, shitty perfumes from our collective past...those scents that -- if even still manufactured -- can only be found in your dead granny's bathroom or purchased at the Rite-Aid, the TJ Maxx, or the 99 Cent Store. God bless ‘em all.

However, in my particular case, the truest cause of my shame is not that what I’m currently wearing is cheap or even archaic...because it's NEITHER of those things. In my mind, it's EVEN WORSE. This perfume, though not ridiculous in price, is certainly not inexpensive. What is so mortifying to me about this perfume is ITS NAME and ITS AESTHETIC -- and the very idea that an aesthetically discriminating, culturally savvy broad of my age (27...okay, PLUS A WHOLE LOTTA GODDAMNED SHIPPING AND HANDLING), profound life experience, AND AN IN YOUR FUCKING FACE FEMINIST STANCE would have the SHEER AUDACITY to strut her fatass around wearing a scent with this name (even though her sniffer really likes it) absolutely mortifies me. If you know me at all, you'll know that if there's one thing that drives me ABSOLUTELY OUT OF MY MIND WITH PETTY, JUDGY, FEMALE's a dame who doesn't posses the self-confidence, self-awareness, self-enlightenment, OR DIGNITY to dress and act her goddamned age. NOTHING makes my flesh crawl like seeing a 58 year old woman sashaying about in frosted pink lipstick, an Ed Hardy tank top, towering cork wedgies, and Daisy Dukes so tenuously shredded on the undercarriage that I can see the rainbow sheen on her pastrami sandwich at 40 paces. GO FUCK YOURSELF, HONEY – as much as you’d like it to be, it ain’t 1983 and it never again will be. Move on.

But at the end of the day, and for the time being, my nose sure likes it (the perfume, not her pastrami sandwich) I shall continue to apply its olfactory loveliness behind my ears...behind closed doors.

Shanti, shanti, shanti...and amen.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Ms. Muffy, you know you would be smelling of nothing other than TOP-SHELF SNATCH in person. And maybe Chihuahuas. Just sayin'.