Some time ago our Liza Herz outed her husband, Craig MacInnis, for his tendency to use expensive perfume as room spray. "I come home saying 'God, it smells lovely in here. What is it?' and he'll point to my bottle of Prada Infusion d'Iris or (less often) his Chanel Allure Homme Edition Blanche or Marc Jacobs Bang,'" she wrote. She continued with fragrance suggestions that work as brilliantly on bedsheets; you can read that in Perfume Makes Maybe the Best Room Spray Ever.
Today, however, is about Craig's side of the story, which appeared this past weekend in the National Post. Of particular note is a sheepish account of scent-combination fails – a "nostril-searing effect of a French bordello at midnight" and something about "rotting meat" – and this lovely bit:
"Scent is really how we connected 15 years ago, bonding over a mutual regard for vetiver and cedar and rich, musky ointments that we traded back and forth like teenagers making mix tapes for each other. 'The patchouli really works, but only if you cut it with a dab of neroli,' and so forth."
Staff says I'm a sap for highlighting that snippet; she's more interested in why Intimately Beckham shows up in the piece.
Here, a proper excerpt from Craig's "The History of my Fragrance Follies:"
I don't remember the first time that I hit the bottle (I was probably a teenager), but I do recall the first time I hit the bottle hard.
It was a few years ago and our Labrador, Brum, had left what one might politely describe as a base-note of eau de chien in our mud-spattered Camry.
With a pending appointment to pick up my wife and her girlfriend in our shame-inducing Stinkmobile, I dashed into our apartment and ransacked the beauty closet for a fast fix. Voila! With a bottle of Diptyque's Feu de Bois parfum d'interieur, I returned to the car and gave the cab a good drenching in $70 French room fragrance.
By the time I collected my unwitting passengers an hour later, our car smelled like a crackling Northern bonfire, with sweet spruce topnotes and a smoky, luxurious undergirding of woodsy goodness. Dog? What dog?
Inhaled out of context, my wife didn't immediately recognize the car's new scent signature, but eventually it clicked. "You used the Feu de Bois, didn't you?" she said with a grin, after our guest had been dropped off, none the wiser.
Hello. My name is Craig, and I have a spritzing problem. Since that first daring plunge into what I refer to as my "secret fragrance follies," I've slowly grown addicted to ever pricier and more extravagant scent options, sprayed not on myself but in every room and enclosed space, sometimes, admittedly, to disastrous results.
Read the rest via nationalpost.com -- and please note: that horrifying porn-star gel French manicure isn't Craig's. Nor Liza's.
Now ’fess up. What fragrances do you use as room spray? Or car spray?
Did I mention Liza's "Eau Baby" fragrance story -- here on Beautygeeks -- has been nominated for a Canadian Fragrance Award?