Garret Leiva: Premium gasoline cologne

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Garret Leiva

January 23, 2012

By Garret Leiva Community editor The Record Eagle Mon Jan 30, 2012, 12:52 PM EST

Sometimes life can smell of desperation, perspiration or an equally offensive odor. However, I won't pay $39.50 for a 4-oz. bottle of stink.

Stench is in the nostril of the beholder. What gets on one person's olfactory nerve can smell sensational to another. How else do you explain cologne scents molecularly engineered to mimic mildew or Burger King Whoppers?

Yes, that's right, you can walk around smelling like grandma's stale couch or greasy fast food. I'm holding out for eau de gasoline -- premium grade.

I'm not what you'd call a fragrance man. Don't get me wrong, I like to smell somewhere in the overall context of the word good. However, I don't have a toiletries cabinet stocked with gels, creams, lotions or anything with "eau de" on the label.

Overall I operate out of one bathroom drawer and by a single mantra: roll out (of bed), roll on (deodorant) and roll down (the road).

That's not to say I haven't indulged in the occasional spritz. The 6-oz. cologne bottle on my bedroom dresser was a gift from my now-departed sister. After she died I stopped using the cologne; I just couldn't let this quarter-full tangible connection run dry.

Of course there are a plethora of other spray-on scents. While I should seek something with a hint of self-dignity, I'm drawn to more noisome examples:

• Smells like success. Celebrity-endorsed colognes or perfumes have a shelf life linked to a pop star's fame. Like their human counterparts, these scents come with more than a whiff of self-indulgence.

I could splash on Justin Bieber's "Someday" cologne. However, I already hit my voice-changing puberty someday. I could try Britney Spears' "Circus Fantasy," but that's way wrong, even beyond sweaty clowns tumbling out of a tiny car.

• Demeter Fragrance Library bottles some odd odors, including Dirt, Dust and Earthworm. Funny, my mom made me take a bath if I came home smelling like any of these boutique colognes.

• Clean Windows cologne runs $39.50 for a 4-oz. bottle. I might be math-challenged, but at that price you can buy a case of Windex -- ammonia-scented pheromones with a streak-free shine.

• Glue, Turpentine and Christmas in New York. These are three scents you should never sniff, especially the last; I bet it smells like inebriated Santas on a dirty subway.

• Appetite for seduction. Burger King served up cologne spray in 2008 with the aroma of flame-broiled meat. AOL news posted a story last year about a Chicago man who introduced "bacon," a pretentiously spelled, greasy Sunday morning breakfast scent. Duh, I can stand in front of my kitchen stove and smell like that for free.

Honestly, I'm surprised someone hasn't bottled Gym Locker cologne -- smells like sweat, dank towel and a hint of dirty underwear for a fraction of the yearly fitness club dues.

Like most things in life it's a matter of someone willing to pay for perspiration, desperation or an equally offensive odor. I'm still holding out for spray-on premium grade.