One year ago today I was in Paris. I’m gonna cut right to the chase. The myth that French people stink is no myth at all. It’s August and its freakin' hot in the city. My friend and I took a bus over to the Père Lachaise Cemetery where Jim Morrison is buried. The bus was packed like sardines and many of us were standing at the back. Everybody’s arms were up, holding on to balance, exposing the very ripe under arm of the Parisians.
That night after a really wonderful dinner, the 3 girls I was traveling with and I went out to a few bars. As you can imagine 4 American girls can draw quite a crowd and the guys were on us like white on rice.
I had a few in me and my filter isn’t as spot on as it could be. I tell this lovely French man about our stinky ride and proceeded to ask what the problem is? Do you just not use deodorant? He was happy to engage me on the topic, and said he had definitely heard this stereotype before. He explained, yes, he did wear pit stick everyday (my words not his, obviously!!). He told me he had contemplated going home that night before hitting the bar to apply another coat, but decided the trip would be unnecessary.
And then he asked me if I would mind giving my opinion on his own personal body odor. Wow. I mean how often do you get the opportunity to help a stranger out in this fashion? And so I leaned in, and took a nice big sniff. Good God Almighty!!!! What was I thinking?? I delivered a verdict of: Yes, there is something pungent going on here. You might want to think about a second swipe halfway through your day. But I softened the blow by telling him you had to get right up in it before it was really an issue. He handled it like a champ. Then we made out.
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