A Dozen Roses Contest Entries, Entries, Featured
Andrea Glass makes a lotta scents–Our Valentine’s Day Contest continues
Jan
Ahhh! The Cupidity of Love!
Good morning, Literati Mio from the towers that are A Word with You Press so close to Friendship Square in downtown Moscow that one of Cupid’s arrows could be unleashed from the tower’s parapet and find it’s mark.
Our current contest requires that each lover entwine within their story the phrase “but it was only a rumor”. This contest will be but a brief affair (not to imply an affair involving fruit-of-the-loom or Victoria’s Secretions). The relationship ends February 10th; just enough time to fall in and out of love and live to write about it!
If you have not entered our contest yet, here is where and how the deed can be consummated:
Roses and Chocolates and Thorns-Oh My! Our first contest of 2014
but I digress…
Here is an entry from Andrea Glass, heaven scent, no doubt.
THE SCENT OF A MAN
by Andrea Glass
When I was younger I easily confused love and sex. After my divorce, I accumulated lovers in an attempt to make myself feel okay again, and sex seemed to reinforce the “loving” feeling I lost after being dumped! Someone once said she’d heard I’d had over 100 lovers, but it was only a rumor.
Today, when I recall my string of past lovers, I mostly remember their scents. The scent of a man lingers in the concealed recesses of my brain—that place where sensory images reside. Not just one man, but every man I’ve ever known intimately or nearly so. Not just one scent, but a vast array of smells, odors, aromas, and essences.
Canoe, that sickly sweet cologne so popular in the 50s was what Fred wore. My hair brushed his cheek as we danced the “why dance?” at the junior high prom. There began my addiction and the scent of a man was my drug of choice. The man’s natural body odor mixed with his cologne was intoxicating. And each man and each cologne became stored in my olfactory filing system. For many years, every time I smelled Canoe I thought of Fred.
Bill reeked of Aramus, a musky earthy scent. It was a perfect match for the odors that permeated the room, office, car, or wherever we engaged in passionate lovemaking. I bought myself a bottle of Aramus so I could smell Bill long after he disappeared from my life.
It seemed appropriate that my London lover Dave wore English Leather. Whenever I smell it I’m transported to the English Channel and the top deck of the ship where we consummated our ill-fated summer affair.
I will forever be rendered powerless by Polo. That’s what sultry sexy Doug splashed on before he came to call. When I lay my head on his bare chest, I was inebriated as its spicy scent mixed with the dank smells of our love play. I once followed a stranger smelling of Polo and wished he were Bruce was au naturel. He smelled of dog, his ever-constant companion. Awakening in our cozy tent in the mountains, I inhaled the aromas of sweat, dirty clothes, morning breath, and unwashed hair.
Emerging from our love nest, these scents evaporated in the cool forest air.
Men, colognes, body odors—a jumble of buried memories, both painful and pleasant. The scent of every man lingers only to be awakened by the right cue.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=bkMVjnjojK0
“The Scent of a Man” left me feeling as if I had invaded the diary of woman stringing the gentleman lovers throughout her life into memoir form through the sense of natural and splashed on bodily aroma. As a student of the human psyche I was most taken by the first paragraph; although I’m always fascinated by how our memories are selectively triggered by our senses. I appreciated and felt priviledged to be let into such lingering intimacies.
In case you are wondering what my scent of the past was you should ask Mr. Geoffrey Beene. I no longer wear Grey Flannel, but like men who do. I think you are on to something here Andre. “Memories scent the corners of my mind. Treasured, sweet memories of the way I smelled.” The power of a story is in its way of lingering on which your story has achieved with me. Thank you for helping me remember the man I left behind.
You HEARTBREAKER! LOL Love ’em and Leave ’em.
Oui, mon cowboy. Vous pourriez dire que j’avais un peu de décoration peau neuve d’intérieur, pourrait être?
oui, ma fleur. mais plus que juste un changement de cœur, n’est pas?
Merci beaucoup et oui.
Congratulations, Andrea. You’ve just made your mark here at AWwYP with this excellent entry. One of my favorite colognes in high school – way back there when I was just a goat roper – was English Leather and all us goat ropers wore it. But the best part of your story is taking the psychology of smell and knowing that smell is the most powerful sense of memory, you introduced us to each of the guys in your life by something we can all relate to. I think all of us here are old enough to remember those Manly colognes that we didn’t dab or sprinkle – we SLATHERED them on and then stepped out in the world.
Thank you and welcome to this crazy bunch of writers. We are glad you’re here.
You have brought the old spice to this contest.
Oh wow just has a rush of memories of Old Spice and Aqua Velva…and to this day the smell of a man is a leading contributor to my memory banks. Great story Andrea.
Isn’t it awesome that fresh air can clear the smell memories of times gone by.
Really enjoyed the read Andrea.
I remember using Bay Rum my grandfather stashed. Guess thats whay I never got any. Great use of the psycological. Perfect sense, perfect writing. Welcome to the site.
Speaking as a 50/50 orientation woman as of late, i realize that straight women need a little incentive to be turned, so I’m investing in…Artisan by John Varvatos…look out ladies.
Artisan by John Varvatos
I love this dash down memory lane. (I actually responded to this twice already but neither got posted for some reason, no doubt operator error. Now I can’t remember all the swift comments I made!) But this theme is perfect for “love,” I almost wrote along the same line, but about the lack of exquisite scent packages. Seems to me that after shave has kind of gone the way of Van Heusen Poplin shirts. So thank you Andrea for this aromatic journey.
You just hit on one of the strongest senses of love, but often underrated: smell. One breath and you’re somewhere else. Or with someone else. As soon as you started talking about smell, my mind began to turn the pages of memory, remembering how the men I’ve loved captured me with one breath. I’m seriously trying to regain my composure as I type this. This is one of my favorites <3
Heh heh, English leather ^_~