Sunday, June 18, 2017

Female Complaints

The other day, I sprayed on a bunch of Rumba (Lapidus) before going to a screening of Imitation of Life. It was the final screening of a five-film Douglas Sirk series, all of which I'd attended. Because of the Alamo Drafthouse's assigned seating system, you often end up sitting awkwardly close to people in otherwise wide open theaters. Even though I typically go to the Drafthouse two or three times a week, I do not enjoy the assigned seating aspect. I am a person who likes to wear lots of fragrance and sit far, far away from others.
As soon as I sat down, the faceless, featureless woman next to me, who had long ratty Crystal Gayle hair and Teva sandals, began heaving and coughing in a demonstrative, fake manner. Uh oh, I thought. Usually people are far too frightened and confused by me to approach me about anything, but older women are often quite confident about harassing and scolding total strangers. It's also literally always women who complain about fragrance. Ugly and/or liberal women. Women who hate the idea of anyone else, female or otherwise, projecting glamour and confidence and not playing by the rules. Men may dislike it in theory but they don't reprimand total strangers about it, unless they're just complete faggot SJW beta males.
 "Excuse me... are you wearing... cologne?"
She said it like I was jerking off in front of her. 
"Uh, yeah. I'd be happy to move down a few seats."
"You should tone it down! I never wear anything to a theater!" she said with the moral authority that only awful women, or awful men who pretend to be women, are able to conjure. 
I smiled weakly. I may be brash in my writing but I'm actually a very polite person that hates confrontation and wants to be liked. 
"I'm sorry. I always wear perfume."
I said "perfume" because my use of that word instead of "cologne" would confuse her and make her feel guilt for harassing a faggot or possible tranny. Oh,  please don't hurt little old me, a bullied faggot, wearing his ladies' perfume! It worked. Her face softened up and she said, "That's okay," and smiled.
All during the movie I thought of the clever things I could've said to her, the points I could've made. The Alamo Drafthouse Ritz is the worst-smelling movie theater I've ever been to. It smells like dumpster celery and obese, unhealthy nerd BO. To get to it you have to walk down Sixth Street over the bodies of numerous aggressive, reeking homeless people high on K2. It was in this scent milieu that this woman decided perfume was the only objectionable element. You also know that this white bitch wouldn't have dared comment on the fragrance of a black woman or a Muslim. Policing fragrance is something done exclusively by white people, to white people. 
It's about control. It's not about allergies. It's about Stalinist, leftist, bureaucratic control, enforced by people who know nothing about art or their own senses. Yes, I wear perfume to provoke, in a period of time where strong fragrance makes one seem bizarre and possibly unhinged. I enjoy transmitting the message that something in the air is wrong, improper for our time period. People I like accept it as one of my eccentricities. I long ago came to terms with the fact that I'm fine alienating people with my perfume, and that I will never quit wearing it for a job or romantic prospect.
The other day they hired a new girl at work. I was tasked with training her. The topic of fragrance came up with a customer and it became apparent to the new girl that I knew more than was normal about it.
"Wow, how do you know all that?" she asked.
"I just really like perfume."
"Oh, really. I'm actually allergic."
I offered no response. I didn't even bother pretending not to hear her. I made it clear that I had heard and was purposely not responding. I don't live in that world. I do not follow the rules of post-1980s PC leftist HR department fragrance decorum. If you don't wear fragrance to work, it means you never wear fragrance. You spend your entire life at work.