Fragrance purchases are the lamest of the lame of the stuff that guys cop out and buy for their ladies. I have never spoken to one woman friend who expressed a desire to receive fragrance. Incidentally, guys, they don’t want lingerie in a size too small, either.
It pisses me off that I can’t understand fragrance commercials. The Katy Perry one? “Killer Queen?” If Freddie Mercury showed up, singing the song from the grave, a la that puzzling ad for Dior where Charlize Theron chums it up with Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe—if that happened, THAT would give it some street cred. Am I really supposed to buy this empowerment message, that Katy is so free when she cuts off her corset (oh, wait–she kept the corset. Cuz it’s hot.)?
The problem is that these ads are all shot through the most male heterosexual lens possible. Thus the absence of Freddie Mercury, in all his gay and brilliant glory.
Just know, guys, that a gift card to anywhere that is not a grocery store or a vacuum cleaner dealer is gonna get you more game than a damned overpriced bottle of perfume. Face it; so many people these days have asthma and can’t deal with smelling stuff anyway.
The exception to this rule: if you are eight years old and you pick out perfume from Rite Aid for your mommy. You are golden. Come to think of it, perhaps this is why men think that cologne is the ticket for getting that special reaction. That’s sweet. But that ship has sailed, Skippy.
peachyteachy 