It’s so odd to me. Here I am in ridiculously beautiful Beverly Hills, staying with a gorgeous, hospitable, and absurdly endearing couple (think dimples and a swagger), and I can’t help but think of my Straight Up and Dirty life. It’s so strange to me that I come here, to the west coast, and can’t stop thinking about my east coast friends.
I was in Kitsen Men just now, savoring time between meetings, and I thought of Alexandra. Of the cologne she bought her now husband. How I’d once walked down the street with her and her man, and saw her lean over and whisper something to him. I knew her so well, knew exactly what she was saying to him. I heard her say the word, "cologne," but nothing else. We all continued to walk, and I turned to her and said, "Nice."
"Let me guess," I said mimicking her, "that cologne he’s wearing makes you want to swing from his porch and show him all the dirty ways you can decorate his lanai."
"Oh my God, Lover! You know me so well!" she squealed. Then she laughed and pet my arm, and I loved how I could delight her, loved knowing her that well, loved how loved I made her feel.
So today I texted, phoned, and emailed her, asking what the name of the cologne was. I was, after all, standing in a store among rows of man water. She emailed back:
Himalaya in a silver bottle. How come?
I think thee are hotter and more inoxicating scents out there.
I received her email after I’d left the store, with Creed’s Virgin Island Water cologne in tow. I let her know that it smells like a Pina Colada who had a once night stand.
The product description: "Representing different scents carried by the Caribbean trade winds. It has top notes of copra, lime from the Antilles, white bergamont and mandarin orange; middle notes of hibiscus, ginger, ylang-ylang and Indian jasmine, and base notes of musk and sugar cane and white rum."
Yum and a half. A lanai is definitely in order.