Aquavelva

So, our pal Dave recently posted on his myspace blog that, for various nostalgic reasons, he would start wearing Old Spice aftershave.

In typical smart ass fashion, I flippantly declared that I was more of an Aquavelva man, mostly because I enjoyed the linguistic properties of the word "Aquavelva." Plus, I thought it was funny...

Aquavelva

Aquavelva

Aquavelva



Admit it, you like it too. It sounds exotic, yet familiar. It makes your mouth make pleasurable motions. It makes you feel that you are making an erudite vocabulary ordination.

It was a joke, though. I was joking. I suspect Dave was serious about his Old Spice strategy, but I, however, was not. I am not, actually an Aquavelva man.

But then, I started thinking about it. Why exactly was Aquavelva my go to comedic scent selection? Why did it come so easily to my mind?

I think it's because my dad used to wear it.

And so, I found myself this evening pushing a heavily-loaded grocery cart down the toiletries aisle at Albertsons, as I passed the heretofore-overlooked man-stink shelf. Never having been one for perfumes, it had been a long while since last I looked at it.

And there it was. Same squatty bottle. Same translucent alien blue (like a Gin&Tonic under black light.) I surreptitiously unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. Memories of youth flooded back. It smelled like my dad. It smelled like 1974. It smelled like clean white T-shirts and a 1969 Ford Mustang.

I put the bottle in the cart.

So, I'm going to take a cue from Dave and give it a whirl. I will cultivate a signature scent. (Apart from the usual scotch and bacon grease odor...) I expect good things, like greater respect, expanded influence, and more-powerful persuasion.

Of course, I am always prepared for the prospect of crushing disappointment.