FROM MY COFFEE TABLE BOOK

THE PERFUME CONUNDRUM…

I used to wear vanilla and other noxious, sugary-sweet body spray at the club—most dancers do—it’s a money-maker: men love that shit. Vanilla/sherbet-scented crap happens to mix well with my skin chemistry; lucky me. These scents make me gag on spot now. Too many years. Too many stranger’s hands on my tits. Too many mornings with my hair smelling like syrup and hard work. It’s unfathomable now, but I rarely showered after for the first half of my twenty-one-year stripping career. My friend and I would go to Denny’s or Mel’s Dinner every night at 2 a.m., eat super fatty meals, then I’d go home and pass the fuck out. That was in my twenties. During the second half, the minute I got home, I’d remove my makeup and shower. Followed by a huge salad. I love eating late at night right before I sleep (which I know isn’t good diet wise, but it’s heavenly and was my schedule for over two decades). Anyway, I got off point: what perfumes I wear when I work. I’m no longer at the club, but I still see clients under a sexually-based umbrella. When I see my long-term regulars—for sex or just drinks—I don’t want to turn them on to the point where they’re humping my leg at the bar (or even in the sack). The money is guaranteed. I know they want me, there’s no hard sell. Having said that, they are paying me soI probably shouldn’t smell like an old T-shirt, but I also don’t want the pheromone-spray that turns them into thirteen-year-old boys. You see my dilemma. I can’t wear perfumes I actually like because the aroma will be ruined: forever reminding me of work. I have an extremely sensitive sense of smell. Honestly, I don’t know why I trouble myself with any of it. I don’t need to make life harder than it is. They never seem to notice if I smell like roses or moth balls. However, it does seem like I should try just a little, right? Give a modicum of shit. I need the, he-won’t-hump-you-in-public-but-will-come-in-two-seconds body spray.