Here… come a little closer. I’m not really sure about this new perfume I’m wearing, and I want a second opinion. It’s called Jardin sur le Nil, and it’s one of the many free samples I got at Sephora recently. (As I understand it, receiving products for free makes me an environmentalist, so I’m just doing my part to love the Earth, in the spirit of the holidays. Merry Christmas, Earth! Merry Christmas, Baby Jesus!) Here’s a picture of this perfume, so you can revel in its elegance. (See illustration)

ILLUSTRATION

There it is on the left, and yes, that’s me on the right—seven feet tall, eighty pounds of store-bought mystery.

The instructor of a mandatory customer service training I attended last year taught us (through pantomime) the correct method of applying perfume, which she explained as “Spray, delay… and walk away.” I have trouble following the instructions, as they seem illogical. The “Spray” part is clear enough: Spray a cloud of perfume into the air. But then, it all breaks down in the “Delay” section. The instructor used the “Delay” to step into her imaginary cloud of perfume, which she did not describe, but I’m guessing was the Designer Imposters version of Giorgio Red. I experienced cognitive dissonance, watching her exclaim “Delay!” while in fact she was moving forward, which movement seemed to me to represent the “Walk Away” section of the dance. She didn’t include a segment entitled “Retain a Smug Expression On Your Face and Scan the Room for Approval,” but that may just be because it didn’t fit the rhyme scheme.

I’ve abandoned these rules, these ridiculous rules, in favor of my own approach, which is, “Spray Perfume Liberally In All Directions, That the World May Know Your Glory.” I’m happy with it, and really, isn’t that what matters?

And as far as being happy is concerned, I should mention my current dismay, unmitigated by free perfume samples, at the refusal by the other members of my band to play certain songs I think would be great. At practice last night, we discussed several possible cover songs we might learn, and among other suggestions, I put forth for discussion the great 1970s classic “Christine Sixteen” by Kiss. No one actually shouted it down, but the resounding silence and disgruntled looks told me all I needed to know, and no amount of singing or heavy-metal wailing on my part could convince them otherwise.

It is so unfair. I don’t know the specific reason for the denial, although Mathrock, our guitarist, did laugh out loud at the line, “She’s been around, but she’s young and clean.” I don’t know why. I think it’s a lovely sentiment, especially when sung by a man in silver leather pants. “Look how pure she looks,” it says, while acknowledging her ability to burn up the sheets. How is that objectionable? Although just now, looking up the lyrics to that line, I came across a mention that the Gin Blossoms covered Christine Sixteen, so perhaps it’s best to just Spray, Delay, and Walk Away.

Star of the day. . .David Lowery