Yes, you are very charming with your dazzling smile and your infectious laugh. The cashmere sweaters you wear are wonderfully inviting and I almost don’t mind your quick embrace when we say goodbye, the kiss on each cheek, followed religiously by your sing-song commentary, “a hug is one of the only free things in the world…”
Except your hugs aren’t really free. You see, after each hug I’m left with a cloud of something hanging on me that I can’t shake for the rest of the day. And no, it’s not that nagging somewhat dirty feeling I get when I realize I’ve just used my cleavage to close a sale… no, it’s much worse than that.
It’s Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men. And I know this because it’s what my boyfriend in high school used to wear. In those brief moments of contact with you, the cloying fragrance permeates my clothes. It coats my hair. For the next 8 hours, it’s all I can smell. I close my eyes and I’m transported back against my will to clumsy kisses and clammy palms, shaky fingers struggling awkwardly with a bra clasp for what seems like hours, and quite honestly, I just want to turn and run away screaming.
I’m thinking you may buy the boxed gift set. The kind that comes with the soap on a rope, the aftershave, the deodorant, and the eau de cologne, because it’s like you’re steeped in the stuff. Just as a taxidermist preserves a beloved pet or a hunter’s trophy in formaldehyde, I can’t help but imagine that you are preserved with Obsession for Men.
And this is the real tragedy: your wine bar smells of it as well. One only has to walk through the door and… wham… they are assaulted with “ a masculine blend of botanics, spices, and rare woods (that) reflect the determination and fire that drives men’s passions.”
Here’s a tip. NO scents for work, please. Your patrons will thank you for it. You think they stick their noses into that glass of Sancerre and pick out white flowers and lime blossoms and wet rocks? Not a chance. How about when they sip their Chinon? As they part their lips and lightly breathe in the air around the wine before it dances onto their palate? It’s now tainted with your “base notes of amber, musk, sandalwood, vetiver, patchouli” (what the heck is vetiver?). Holy Moly, I thought this was like a no-brainer! I thought everyone knew this… or at least everyone who knows a lick about wine…
Winebuyer, I know you mean well, and generally I like you as a person. Your palate is terrible, but I’m sure that has everything to do with the fact that frankly, you stink. Now please excuse me while I go shower.