London / Paris

Are you familiar with the game "London/Paris"? It's a driving game. You drive on the side of the road appropriate to the city called. I was introduced to this "game" by the father of a babysitting charge as he drove me home one night. I believe he thought he was connecting with the younger generation. I was pretty sure that I was about to be disconnected from all generations I knew.

"London / Paris" came to mind this morning, because I started this morning's sampling with Creed Silver Mountain Water on my right wrist, then picked up the Chanel No 22 decant a friend sent me and spritzed my left. Aiy yi yi. It's kind of like having a floral syrup on my right, and powdery floral air freshener on my left. I don't think I'm helping either by running the sniffer by in quick succession, but I can't help it...kind of like not averting your gaze at a car accident.

I can't stop to do any serious picking out of notes or pay attention to dry down; I keep going back and forth, thinking things like "Grandma / modern teen" and "purposely dressed up / purposely dressed down." Paris! London! Paris!! London!! Gadzooks, I'm compelled to participate in this tennis match.

Clearly, I'm not constitutionally built to be an ambassador. I keep "hearing" the two different sides, but my head can't build a bridge. No wonder there's been so much trouble across the Chanel, er, Channel. We have two seriously different approaches to scent here.

Usually I don't finish these ruminations until the party's either over, or seems to have subsided into its final character. I may be at the sink before my last sentence. Hey, even something like Kingdon didn't drive me to scrub; I just held my arm at a safe distance, and revisited whenever ready. This particular experience has me bouncing back and forth like I'm some sort of voodoo doll being controlled by a maniacal outside force. Like somebody is driving me down the road, weaving back and forth across the yellow line. I'm outta here.

Somebody remind me I don't like this game next time, okay?