Often, I think of myself as a jaded sugar daddy. My “paramours”? Perfumes of course! They kiss my neck, fondle my arms, tickle my chest, and try to rouse me from my blasé, “been-there/smelled-that” existence. (They want my money.) Sometimes, it’s hard to keep my eyes open, to feign interest in their “personalities” or their juice.
The new parfum-garçon in town approaches (European, overdressed, “exclusive”, always asking me for huge sums of cash) and I think: “He’s not worth it!”
I spot a middle-aged scent, “face-lifted”, all traces of moss liposuctioned away, dressed like a teenager: “I feel I know you, but something has changed…something is ‘different!’ You’ve lost weight! You seem lighter!” I say.
Department store types attract me (they are often cute, “fashionable” and bubbly) but I always get their names mixed up!: “Hello, Giorgio! Oh, sorry…I mean Ralph! NO? Don’t tell me! It’s Calvin, correct? Perry? Tommy?”
Shockingly, over the last year I’ve pursued forbidden fruit, Italians, from religious orders and monasteries I’ve never heard of before, who try to sell me bergamot and oranges at horribly inflated prices: “Away, Padre! Even I can’t afford your goods! But you look heavenly in that BEAUTIFULLY tailored habit!”
There are bright spots in my sugar daddy existence:
I enjoy perfumes of a certain age. Not only are they well seasoned in the art of ‘seduction’ but they are easily reached via the Internet (cheap dates to boot, available at steeply discounted rates!): Jules, Jicky, Bijan, and les messieurs Balmain and Givenchy are just a few I turn to when I crave an experienced, appreciative ‘touch.’
I also believe in having fun, so I do casual hook-ups with those I meet on the street, in supermarkets, etc. (though they are cheap and a tad “simple,” they provide a lot of bang for the buck). In case you’re interested, these types hang out on the corner of Pacifica and Demeter.
This sugar daddy is getting very tired; each year more paramours arrive on the scene to tempt me, but I’m usually not “satisfied” with our encounters. Only occasionally do I get back as much as I give in these relationships — time and commitment, money, entertainment, originality! Rarely do I say: “I will keep you! Here are the keys to my house, my heart! My credit card number? But of course!”
Today, in marched what appeared to be a “lightweight” French character: the fruity, but comely, Diptyque L’Eau de Tarocco. To be blunt: the foreplay was excellent, but there was no climax. We were both asleep before 20 minutes were up.
L’Eau de Tarocco Eau de Cologne, by Givaudan perfumer Olivier Pescheux, contains Tarocco oranges, cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, rose, cedar, frankincense, saffron, Serenolide and Cosmone (musks). L’Eau de Tarocco saves the best for “first”: delicious aromas of orange peels, orange pulp — quite delightful. Quickly, L’Eau de Tarocco offers up glints of turmeric, ginger and slightly “medicinal” saffron. Before I knew what was happening, the fragrance became “femme” — soft and powdery, rose-y; the rose accord smelled like old fashioned lipstick one minute, then yeast rolls fresh from the oven (and glazed with rose jelly) the next. Unfortunately, the majority of the time I spent with L’Eau de Tarocco, all I smelled was “see-through”, standard-issue musk-wood-citrus. The lasting power of L’Eau de Tarocco is below average (and we sugar daddies appreciate some lasting power if you know what I mean). I will not be calling L’Eau de Tarocco for a second date, but if, unlike me, you don’t have lots of light, musk-wood-citrus summer fragrances at hand, you may want to give L’Eau de Tarocco a try. Me? I’m pursuing Miller et Bertaux’ a quiet morning — pert, yet doe-eyed. “HEL-LOOOOO there!”
Diptyque L’Eau de Tarocco is available in 100 ($98) and 200 ml ($135) Eau de Cologne, packaged in a splash bottle with an optional pump spray. For buying information, see the listing for Diptyque under Perfume Houses.