The Post You Love Most. Looking back over the last year The Dandy noticed a strange thing, there is one scented letter far more adored than all the others… Mitsouko. It has been read, so the figures say, almost ten times more than any other of my aromatic missives. In fact, one in twenty visits here is to pay homage to Guerlain’s masterpiece. Let us do so again this Sunday. Yours ever, The Perfumed Dandy
But what she got, was given or perhaps took was freedom.
So if she chooses now to smell of petroleum and peach schnapps and drive cars and boats too fast, surely we can all understand a little why.
She parties hard, lives each day, they say as though it were her last on account of lives that did not fly, men who died in trenches to move lines on maps and bleed angry armies white.
Yesterday, ambulant driver, she scuttled back and forth through filth ferrying human shrapnel to medical ward ammunition dumps.
Today, she presses her foot down hard on every kind of accelerator, sprays on every sort of new scent, tries on every type of new sex, but nothing brings erasure.
About her person she still smells iodine and the moss that grew everywhere…
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