Suit, clean-shaven… what’s next, orchids and single-origin chocolates?
Necktie, my friend. Necktie.
Oh, and I have a story about Chanel and chocolate. She can be......improvisational.
"Was she wearing the Agent Provocateur black man killer I bought her?"
I can't help but wonder what day of the week that purchase was made.
Hey, are there any evolutionary psychologists in the house? Because this seems to me to be a beautiful reminder that even the most seemingly civilized and refined of us men, at heart, display behaviors essentially indistinguishable from our less evolved mammalian cousins. In this case, do we think that Mr. Adoo literally thought it was remotely possible that she was wearing such a thing, even setting aside my detailed descriptions of her outfits? If I had said yes, do you suppose he would have thought to himself "That's wonderful! I'm just so pleased she's been able to make use of my trifling gift, bless her heart"? So what psychological purpose do we think that question served? Struck me as essentially the luxury brand equivalent of a french bulldog taking a wizz on a fire hydrant. As if to stake his claim: I was here, and this is my hydrant. Well, duly noted! (For now let's side aside the glaring internal contradiction between the gratuitous disdain and the exhibitionism of the alleged generosity, as tempting as it is to infer a story of something going terribly wrong on a repeat). If Mr. Adoo would like to regale us with what gifts he has bestowed on those other 3 lovely women he mentioned (all of whom are solid yeses in my book as well, though manifestly not in the same league as the formerly nameless one - through no fault of their own of course - it's a league of one, maybe of two, after all), I and others can rack our collective memories for evidence that his scent marking had any lasting impact of note.
Everyone else, can we please try to curb our inner french bulldogs in the vicinity of my temple? That would be the polite and sanitary thing to do, don't you think? Thank you for your consideration.
Meditations on suits, planetariums, etc, as well as id-free contemplations on Aurora herself, however, are more than welcome.
Oh, and another ZZ Top hit from the very same album - "Legs" - would have been an even better soundtrack for this review. Because, fuck, she sure does know how to use them.
