If you want to read the full, shamefully written and edited article, click here.

Yes, I have done this.

I don’t know why it popped into my head just now, as this happened about 10 years ago – but it occurred to me just how bizarre it is that it did happen. Seeing as though:

a) my friends find it difficult to get me to even do karaoke;

b) I’m an atheist; and

c) I don’t speak Spanish.

I mean, even if you like all of these things (as people do), give me something a bit more interesting. Mitten collecting, working in pyjamas, writing pornographic Harry Potter fanfic, anything.

I like listening to music, watching movies, eating out and travelling as much as the next person, new colleague. But let’s just assume that – in fact – everyone likes listening to music, watching movies, eating out and travelling.

So next time, let’s be more specific.

For example, I describe myself as enjoying the following things:

• grammar
• swearing
• medieval literature
• feminism
• ashtanga yoga
• brutalist architecture
• craft beer
• fountain pens
• cycling
• electropop
• whimsy
• using semi-colons
• not using semi-colons
• coffee
• coffee snobbery
• teapots
• G&Ts
• G&Ts in teapots

I also like mitten collecting and working in my pyjamas, for the record.

Husband: Yeah, I remember when you called an 8-year-old boy that.

Me: He wasn’t 8 years old!

Me: He was more like 12.

http://z0r.de/L/z0r-de_3714.swf

I watched it for about 5 minutes last night. This is not an exaggeration.

But – then again – I like pigeons. And dancing. And dancing pigeons, apparently.

The only thing I dislike about it is that, yes, it sits very close to the skin so only the very intimate even get a whiff. Also, it sometimes feels a bit linear: musk, floral, creamy tonka bean.

So – based on many, many reviews – I figured the famous niche perfumer Serge Lutens was the company to turn to, specifically its Muscs Koublai Khan at a whopping £98 a bottle, sold only out of the sole Serge Lutens boutique in Paris. Loads of people swooned on the internet, likening this fragrance to Kiehl’s musk – but better. Oh, so much better. I figured it would be a winner. It would be my beloved Kiehl’s musk exaggerated – the musk to end all musks – sophisticated on my skin. And for £98 a bottle, it damn well should be.

Granted, there are also people out there on the internet who have said it’s foul.

I bought a partial bottle off eBay and waited patiently. Finally, it arrived in the post. I opened the bottled tentatively. Took a sniff. Ooooooohh, I thought. I don’t smell any civet* in this. It smells lovely. All those Muscs Koublai Khan haters out there are definitely cray-cray.

Oh, how wrong I was.

It literally smelled like shit. Once applied, from beginning to end – top, middle and base notes – it was barnyard dung. I tried to convince myself otherwise. I think I detect some delightful rose, delicate and welcoming. But there was always the poop. The civet was so overwhelming that it shat all over the other notes that are supposedly in this perfume – once on my skin.

Even if the ass end of a civet were just sitting there quietly in the background**, no one wants to smell like poop.

No one.

Muscs Koublai Khan – underneath the essence of cat bottom – might remind you of an unwashed, sweaty man’s armpit. No one wants to smell like that either, in case you were wondering.

____________________________________________________________

*Civet: an animal that produces an odorous secretion for the purpose of marking its territory. A fragrance commonly used in perfume.

**Which is wasn’t. It was loud and clear and totally in my face.

Oof. Stomach ache. Haven’t had one of these in a while. I wonder what did that.

From: husband@poshinvestmentbank.co.uk
Sent: 04 January 2012 14:33
Subject: RE: boats

What have you had?

From: larissa.gillotti@awesomebank.com
Sent: 04 January 2012 14:36
Subject: RE: boats

Actually, it just occurred to me. That stir fry last night. I put soy sauce in it. I guess that answers any lingering questions I might have had about whether I was still intolerant to soy.

From: husband@poshinvestmentbank.co.uk
Sent: 04 January 2012 14:37
Subject: RE: boats

That was almost 24 hours ago.

From: larissa.gillotti@awesomebank.com
Sent: 04 January 2012 14:38
Subject: RE: boats

Delayed reaction to soy intolerance/allergy is very common.

Delayed allergic responses to soy are less dramatic, but are even more common. These are caused by antibodies known as immunoglobulins A, G or M (IgA, IgG or IgM) and occur anywhere from two hours to days after the food is eaten. These have been linked to sleep disturbances, bedwetting, sinus and ear infections, crankiness, joint pain, chronic fatigue, gastrointestinal woes and other mysterious symptoms.

From: husband@poshinvestmentbank.co.uk
 Sent: 04 January 2012 14:47
 Subject: RE: boats

You blamed that bedwetting on starplop [our pet rat].

From: larissa.gillotti@awesomebank.com
Sent: 04 January 2012 14:48
Subject: RE: boats

I’ve been discovered.

Abort! Abort!

And some new perfume – Estée Lauder’s Youth Dew (1953), which smells absolutely nothing like youth or dew and everything like PHHHHWWOOOOAAAAARRRR.

Shad Thames – despite being right on top of Tower Bridge and in Zone 1 – is like Dickensian London in comparison. Minus all the grime and disease, of course. What I’m saying is, you turn off of Tower Bridge Road into Shad Thames and it’s dead quiet – cobbled, walk in the streets, old world and lovely.

Shad Thames by robbinhamman

Except, rather bafflingly, between the hours of 11pm and 7am.

The not-24-hour nature of London meant the buses stopped and my little flat in Wandsworth Town offered quiet respite at the midnight hour. I think I might’ve been awoken in the middle of the night once in the 2 years I lived there – likely due to rowdy drunken revelry, which will happen wherever you live in London.

But Shad Thames? This upright Dr Jekyll turns into Mr Hyde when the sun goes down.

When I first moved in, I sat bolt upright in bed at 3am because it sounded like a fucking aircraft carrier was trundling its way down the street just outside at 1mph.

And the number of times I’ve woken up at some ungodly hour to some unidentifiable – and very loud – noise, well, I can’t even tell you.

Last night, as I lay sleeping at 2am, a howling began. A screeching. Growling. Screaming. Shrieking. Was it an animal? Was it dying? Was something getting bummed outside my window? I did not know. But it slowly started moving down the street, the decibels lowering. I went back to sleep.

And then at 3am, it began again. And then moved slowly down the street. I went back to sleep.

And then at 3:30am, it began again. And then moved slowly down the street. I went back to sleep.

And then at 4am, it began again. And then moved slowly down the street. I went back to sleep.

And then at 4:45am, it began again. And then moved slowly down the street. I went back to sleep.

And then at 5:00am, it began again. And then moved slowly down the street.

And I went back to sleep. But, seriously…