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A Sporty, Confident Attitude

Nyyfragrance— photo from SF, who says this is visible everywhere on the F train

So. There I was, at Macy’s — of course — when I saw the most GORGEOUS man walking by, and right then I wanted to have his babies.  His musk smelled like bergamot.  I would go bergamot-shaped for him.  Hand to God, yes I would.  He made me tremble at the knees.  TREMBLE, I tell you.  And ivy leaves and coriander, like pastrami sandwiches eaten on a blanket in the park.  There was blue sage, not that whorish purple mind you, but Hampton Blue.  And Orange flowers with geranium, because somehow he just knew I like geraniums best.  They don’t bother.  And I swore I smelled patchouli and sandalwood, mixed with suede!  It was just like when I surprised Charlotte in her dorm room at Vassar while she was knee-deep in “study” with her history professor who couldn’t wear out the corduroy elbows on his jacket for the suede.

Will I ever see that man again? Here, sweetheart, put this on.

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