My 900-pound princess is a martyr to her delicate skin. We both are. Her life has been a succession of medication, steroid shots, tea-tree baths.
And now she must have a specially formulated fly spray, one that contains no caustics, only essential oils. It’s very expensive. I’d consider buying the ingredients and whipping up a batch at home, except judging from the smell, these oils are extracted from the bodies of 80-year old Kazakhstani men who make a meal of limburger cheese and cumin followed by a deep dive in a vat of Old Spice.
Vandy clearly would prefer the flies.
Worse, from my perspective, once a drop of the essential oil get on my skin, it speeds through my blood stream and then invades every pore. A simple hand wash or the passage of time does nothing to lessen the impact. So for the next two hours, Vandy and I hit the trail, smelling like two old Kazakhstani men trolling the Angeles Forest for chicks.
When it comes to perfume, I don’t even like the good stuff. People should smell like people. Only one exception I can think of -- Adrian.
He was a guy I loved in Paris – a Brit, of all things -- and wore Dior Homme. For two good reasons, the relationship couldn’t continue, but there was nothing about him that didn’t please me. And because I knew our time together was relatively short, I committed most of the moments to memory. I lived them and looked back at them all at the same time.
When I returned to the States, I brought with me a bottle of Dior Homme as a present for someone.
If one can pay through the nose, I guess one can cheat through it too.
So maybe this whole essential oil thing is just payback time. For the rest of Vandy's life, when I leave the stable and get in my car, it will be like I’m trapped in an elevator -- alone with the boys, Itkul and Toiyndyk, and my thoughts. Sometimes that makes for one long ride.
34 comments:
My friend just told me a story about being in Paris when she was in college. Sitting at a cafe, a Frenchman leaned over and whispered, "I love your scent". She's never forgotten that moment. Sounds like you had a similar Paris moment. Ahhhh
V
"I lived them and looked back at them all at the same time." Said so well. I've experienced that feeling.
Poor Vandy! I don't recall ever spraying a horse for fleas. Is this something new?
All the essential oils I've ever smelled were lovely, fragrant and occasionally, pungent. I suggest you stay away from thi Russian black market concoction, KB. Once they realized you're hooked, well, things could get dicey.
And this is one time that I am fhappy computers do not yet have a scratch and sniff feature. :)
LOLove flies!
And for your last three or four posts: REWARD YOURSELF
Midtown
Oops, try this
Midtown
And you pretend to talk about a horse . . . Everybody knows about Toyundick. Itkills almost as famous, and both are seminal figures in Eurasian folklore.
Apparently that's all the detail we're getting about A-Drain and you. "Except for two things?" That's IT?? If the others claim they're satisfied with that, they're liars. I, for one, feel doubly cheated.
A sensual piece, Karin. Anything about a man you loved in Paris, tied up with smells, is going to be a sensual bit of work.
The smell of eucalyptus always transports me to the Bay area in 1969/70, when I was too young to be running around loose.
This is my first visit...love your humour.
Oddly enough, I have a friend in Kazakhstan right now, living in an apartment with 8 other people.
I must email and ask her about the people smells. ;~>
Deborah,
Welcome to Hiker's fabulous blog. It's just full of whackos, like me and a lot of others, but we love it here and you will too.
I can't get past Paris and the scent thang. I"m feeling a little giddy over the memories of some in particular. Why do you do this to us KB? DAMN
You haven't told us if the flies kept away. With that mixture of smells, I think they'd be attracted to both of you... plus lonely Kazahkstani women would pop out of the poison oak looking for Itkul and Toindyk.
PS Vandy looks terrified that you're going to put that stuff on her.
You don't suppose Dior Homme repels le flies?
JJ
This one's close to home. I'm an essential user of many years ~ some make me just about pass out with their intoxicating beauty, others make me just about pass out for the reason you've mentioned here. Ironically, some of the most effective for certain things are the pongiest. I'm all for this odd sounding mixture, KB, assuming it was recommended by someone 'in the know'.
{Makes for much hilarity, though!}
Sorry to some of you who left comments last night. Blame blogger -- for whatever reason, they didn't publish. So only I will know how brilliant you were.
Shell, an inexpensive Avon HIGHLY scented bodywash was once the fad for flyspray. All our horses smelled like hookers.
Poor Vandy.
Virginia...swoon!
Reading all the commenters comments is as entertaining as reading your original post. What a witty brood of followers you've attracted.
Something smells a bit fishy in this little yarn, unless perhaps you're capable of channeling and dating the dead; in which case, I would expect that H-Adrian had an extraordinarily rotten effect on your olfactory organs. ^_^
Midtown
BTW, Did you find the little Golden Hoe in the blue (Oops, try this) hot link above?
Mid-Time-Travel
Funny picture! Perhaps someday someone will lean over to you in a California cafe and say suavely: "Is that fly repellent you've donned? You must have stories to tell..."
Here's hoping.
Poor Vandy. Sensitive skin is such a trial. If she has to suffer through the smell, I hope it keeps the flies away.
Paris seems to have an olfactory effect on people. Mine happened in Sainte-Chapelle. While admiring the stained glass, a very nice young frenchman sat next to me and kindly gave me a rather involved history of the chapel. I was entranced by his soft green eyes and his lovely smile and would have lingered longer, but sadly he was not a fan of Dior Homme. He had his own scent and it overwhelmed me. I said my Mercis and sought the outside air. Perhaps if I'd had a cold that day, who knows...
Some of my female friends wear an expensive and fashionable perfume that smells just like mosquito repellant. Oh well, chacun a son gout, as they said to you in Paris.
Uh oh...
I SCENT a Fatwa coming on
Too bad I'm a super-smeller. Perfumes and after-shaves put me off. Certain natural smells, too, ala Bayside Life (great story, BL).
Ok, so now blogger ate most of yesterday's comments. It's kind of exciting to consider what might come next.
Mid-Town and PA, once again I had to google your references, and I'm the better person for it.
Bellis, "lonlely Kazahsktani women..." you've just proved Carolynn's point.
Shell, Bayside, P, perhaps the aesthetic of smell is the most personal of all.
Quid, is that flyspray in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me.
One of my concerns here is VANDY ... she has always been skin-sensitive, but I think she during the years together with you knows what’s rational.
One of my concerns here is VANDY ... she has always been skin-sensitive, but I think she during the years together with you knows what’s rational.
sounds like misery but it yielded the best shot of the day!
Man, I've missed your tasty prose. I'm so happy to catch up. Love this.
Why don't you just put a bag over her head?
You think Itkul and Toiyndyk couldn't punch their way out of a paper bag?
Eau de Altadena Hiker
The scent is haunting.
"If one can pay through the nose, I guess one can cheat through it too." - this is so wonderfully imaginative!
Lovely as always, Karin. Your posts are always mind-trips.
Hi Brenda, missed you. Hope everything is ok.
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