Not for internal consumption

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I was playing my very first "rip & burn" CD that I made for Veda years ago. With a great amount of cheesiness, I named it "Veda's Love Mix" ... as it contains some of her favorite songs from the ages (as well as some of mine.) An eclectic mix of Karen Carpenter, Journey, Grease soundtrack selections (shut up), Steven Curtis Chapman, Paula Abdul, Whitney Houston, etc.

So as I finish wailing "Faithfully" with Sir Perry, I'm filled with nostalgia. It's as if I'm back in the '80s getting ready for school. And that's when it happened ... something I haven't done for years. I found myself reaching for the bottle. Dark green, gold cap, the man and his horse.

Yes, friends ... I was splashing on some Polo. No, young people. Not Polo Sport. Not Polo Blue, Silver, Black, Double Black, or any other color. I'm talking about the original. Classified as "woodsy." Leather, wood, tobacco, basil and oakmoss ... a masculine scent. Oakmoss? Heck, yeah, oakmoss. What's more masculine than that?

For many of us, Polo was the "wear-it-with-your-Izod" selection ... that cologne that meant you had finally matured beyond Jovan Musk. (Dear God ... I hope I didn't take out an entire herd of Asian musk deer to keep me smelling so spiffy.)

And boy, was the scent of Polo enough to really throw me into a time warp. My mom called me her "Polo guy" and I can remember being bowled over because our band director probably went through a bottle each week. No soap ... just Polo. You could see the distortion of the air around him as he approached, much like the heat waves in Arizona. And then it hit you. POW. Then you were disoriented for the next few minutes. Heaven help you if you had a meeting in his office.

Anyhoo ... I went about my morning routine, smelling like I just came from Crisp County High. I dropped off the kids at school, and made my way to Chik-fil-A for some free Chik-n-minis (with coupon).

About two miles down the road, I made the mistake. I licked my fingers.

Polo does not belong in the mouth. Maybe it's the oakmoss.

Have you ever gotten cologne or perfume in your mouth (by any number of means which we will not discuss here) and it literally sticks to your tongue for a minute or two? Some of the best fragrances do not taste like they smell. Polo is one that is not meant for consumption. Even a swig of diet lemonade couldn't wash it off. But I guess my breath was pretty snappy.

So ... that being said ... what was your personal aromatherapy of choice in high school? Anyone out there willing to admit Brut? (By Faberge, of course.) Old Spice? Charlie (kinda hip, kinda now)?