If, in the modern world, we are going to have fragrances for men, can I suggest that we at least strive for something a bit manly?
Somebody sprayed me with one of these male perfumes recently. It was all high notes of ginseng and fresh dingleberry, and quite irrelevant to my life. It's no wonder the male sex is in crisis if we're all walking around smelling like pickled pansies.
Now the rubber solution from a bicycle puncture repair kit - that's a great smell that means something to a chap and that I'd be proud to wear behind my ears. Blokes mend punctures, so essence of puncture repair has a suitable olfactory signature.
Freshly pumped unleaded is another good one, as is Young's 303 gun oil and Evostick contact adhesive. These things speak of manly pursuits in a way that hibiscus doesn't.
Here's another one - Old Car, which is a bit like Old Spice but more recognisable as something from the real world. The smell of the inside of an old car is delicious and, I imagine, very attractive to women.
In fact, car smells is a science that has yet to be fully explored. New cars have very distinctive smells peculiar to each maker, and I reckon I could identify quite a few of them if they were put on scratch 'n' sniff cards. Volvos are very fragrant, for example. French cars smell different from German cars, but not all French cars are the same, which is probably something to do with appellation d'origine contr�l�e. Citroens are slightly sweet, but Peugeots are a bit more savoury. Peugeots smell similar to Vauxhalls.
Italian cars tend to smell more custardy than cars from further north, Alfas especially. BMWs are smoother going up the nose than Mercedes-Benz, but Benz gives a longer and more complex finish. BMWs have particularly aromatic screenwash. The Dacia Duster smells like a new T-shirt.
The weird thing is, though, that once cars are about 20 years old, they all smell the same. Whatever subtleties are dusted on them when new - it could be the release agent used in plastic injection moulding, protective coatings added to fabrics, God knows - they are all ultimately subsumed by a million farts, thousands of litres of exhaled bad breath, diesely footprints, bits of pasty, decayed crisps and pox-ridden fluff. Any old car simply smells of old car.
But with one exception, which is my 1972 Rolls Corniche. Now; students of post-war Royce will know that while the �standard steel' four-door saloons were built at Crewe, the coachbuilt two-door cars, like the Corniche, were built by Mulliner Park Ward in Willesden.
It's generally accepted that the best apprentices and the better hides and timbers went to Willesden, while the slightly less good stuff was kept behind for the pikey four-doors from Cheshire. When you compare a Corniche or a Camargue with a standard Silver Shadow, you will notice that the upholstery and the marquetry are just a bit better. The two-doors, after all, were considerably more expensive, in line with the long-established doctrine that says the less useful your car is, the more it should cost.
And now, almost 40 years on, the inside of the 'niche is still assaulting the nostrils quite formidably. It still smells of leather and posh carpet, rather than guff. It's a rich, almost oily whiff that would excite wine bores no end, and reminds me of a well-aged Shiraz. Some smells seem thick and viscous, and that given off by the Rolls is one such. Breathing requires a bit more effort with all the windows shut.
It stays with you, too. Other old cars keep their smells to themselves, but the vapours coming off the Roycer impregnate clothes and skin and hair, and I can still smell the old bus long after I've put it away. I have a sort of nimbus of extract of essential Rolls-Royce around me, and so does the missus if she's been in it. It's slightly off-putting. I can't cuddle up to a woman who is redolent of blokes in aprons.
To be honest, on one or two occasions I've declined to drive the Corniche to important events because I know it makes me smell funny. In fact, it may be worse than that, because I think it might make me a bit itchy as well. Usually, after driving the Corniche, I have a very thorough shower and wash myself all over with Sainsbury's liquid soap, which smells of harmless lemons. I have to scrub quite hard to purge myself of the cloying fug of old Roller. I have to change all my clothes as well, and even then I can still smell Willesden coming from the laundry basket. I think I might be allergic to my car.
Maybe Peter Andre, producer of the Conditional fragrance pour homme, is on to something after all.
Now watch James pit his Rolls Corniche against Clarkson's Grosser Mercedes:
http://www.topgear.com/uk/james-may/james-may-perfume-2010-09-28
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