I would like to state this for the record:
I cannot be more adamant in my utter detestation of this fragrance, if you can call something that smells like a well-used chemical toilet a “fragrance”.
If I catch a whiff of “eau de hippie” I am instantly driven in the opposite direction. To me, it’s worse than a Yankee Candle store!
And it’s like I can’t escape it. The ghost incense that I occasionally smell? Patchouli. Independent record stores? Patchouli. The tibet store? Patchouli. This older female trumpet player in drum corps?
Motherfucking patchouli. AND mothballs.
I even went to the fucking post office on campus last week and it reeked of patchouli. Why would a US post office smell like skanky white boy dreadlocks, you ask?
Because its right next door to a shithole of a
glass smoking utensil bong shop- that’s why!
I think my abject hatred of the smell of patchouli goes back to my childhood and my semi-frequent excursions to Spencer Gifts at the mall.
If you’ve ever been in one of these stores (and I know that you have), then you know “that smell”. Trust me, they all smell the same– like patchouli and edible strawberry joy jelly.
And after you leave, you feel exactly the same as you do leaving an adult bookstore– like you need a silkwood shower and a therapy session.
Oh Spencer’s– file for bankruptcy already! Your business model of selling fiber optic lamps and sad adult novelties cannot be turning any sort of profit.
Okay, now for the rest of you urban hipsters, druggies, and alterna-wannabes, listen up! The 60’s have been over for a good half century now. It’s time ditch the tie-dye and to get a new goddamn scent!
Might I recommend sandalwood? Or jasmine? Or perhaps even tar?
Anything is better than smelling like some Phi Crappa Smegma’s unwashed Mexican beach hoodie!
I would rather smell a burning diaper genie. I would rather smell Ann Coulter’s undouched vagina.
I would rather smell Auschwitz than have to smell patchouli.
And to all the Indians and other eastern religion folk that might use patchouli incense because it had some ritualistic significance– okay, I get it. It’s the only shit that can cover up the smell of the sewer you call the Ganges. I respect that.
But here’s a tip: you do realize that the
patchouli putrid odor permeates everything, right? Fabric, skin, wood. Even stone is not immune.
That shit just doesn’t wash out!
So, to reiterate– I fucking hate patchouli. I’d love to see every last bit of it, rounded up, loaded into a rocket and launched into the sun.
Only I’m quite sure that somehow, even sunlight itself would absorb that wretched stink.