Fragrance

Patrick Suesskind did a fine job in Parfum. He communicated how the most sought after scents are a subtle amalgam of the heavenly and the gutterly. Volatile essences of roses are craftily removed from petals using unseemly grease, and then combined with the glandular excretions of animals' rear ends to make sophisticated assemblages. Cannelle and canaille, you might say.

There was proof of it yesterday when we came back from a nice walk and an even nicer cool beer on a térrasse overlooking the Ponteil beach. Two Italian ladies, chicly power-dressed, and wearing shoes which would be smart even in Italy, were stripping the orange tree below our balcony of its wedding veil of orange blossom.

I know, the temptation is great, as orange blossom is totally inebriating and wonderful. But how did they reach up into the branches? Only by standing on the small square of earth at the foot of the tree. Little did they know, for their gaze and olfactory focus were directed upwards towards the generously scented feathery bloom, that this small corner of a foreign field would be forever Muttland. Oblivious to the rapid accretion of semi-hardened dog turd to their footwear, the good ladies pranced around seizing handfuls of orange blossom and passing it beneath their noses, with loud Italian cries of delight.

Finally, they made off, leaving parallel trails of small, high heel imprints of pooch-cack as proof of their passage. Behind them was a lingering note of a new, expensive fragrance, combining the celestial and the colo-rectal in perfect balance. What was the name of that new perfume? Why? C'Etron d'Antibes, of course. Obtainable from all reputable outlets...