Ever passed someone on the stairs and thought you might be overcome by a cloud of “Samsara”, or had to duck under an invisible cloud of asphyxiating “linx-upon-sweat”? Yep? A coat of olfactory primer masking something a little south of pleasant.
Sometimes that cocktail of natural odour and chemicals is kind of the worst. My current least favourite is the bathroom Haze-effect. I can best describe it as…
“I have left the bathroom smelling not as bad as it could be. I now be smelling of Glade Summer Boutique. This is an odour that everyone will associate with poo. A really big man-sized one, judging by the intensity of meadow freshness”.
Lately, I’ve been getting up, putting on yesterday’s shorts, and a t-shirt (not necessarily fresh), and cycling to work. I dump the bike at the office, where early-starters get to see me at my worst. Then I grab a shower at the gym and return a little more presentable. No harm done.
I don’t mind the smell of sweat, if it’s been created from exercise. And I don’t think anybody else does either. But I regard a person at the gym hitting the treadmill in a cloud of perfume with suspicion.
I guess smells have been on my mind now that I spend more time outdoors, through cycling to work and trail running from time to time.
As I pass early morning dog-walkers on the bike, I catch lungfuls of sharp freshly-applied perfume. None of it ever smells alluring.
But I’m happy knowing that not even their protective layer of stale chemicals can prevent the assertive pungency of my trainers from reaching their nostrils.
Seriously, my trainers could wake the dead. Odor-eaters get eaten. Oust gets ousted, and Febreeze?! Febreeze just makes ’em angry.