"You smell like a WHORE...!"

SERIOUSLY. How does one respond to such a remark? Not that I was ever the recipient. Even if I was, I wouldn't have the first clue as to what a working girl might smell like. I suppose one could consider a measured response after examining a number of scenarios. Are we talking about scents that pervade the air before or after the 'whoring business' is concluded? Or is there a proven olfactory man-magnet issued to these girls by some red-light district licensing authorities?


       Well, it's a pointless exercise to begin with. I'm not even sure if the remark was meant to be derogatory or simply a heavily veiled compliment. Might it not offer a clue to the person's favorite clandestine activity instead? Whatever the intentions, frankly, I don't give a damn. I'm not about to accost a streetwalker at random and rummage through her handbag in search of her scent of the evening, though I might be tempted if she smells of Chanel No.5 or looks like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman which, by the way is a witty satire about human desires: that women dream of landing rich & handsome boyfriends while masculine fantasies typically involve fancy cars and fat bank accounts to woo leggy beauties with the bedroom skills to match. Ain't life grand?

Photo- courtesy of Touchstone Pictures

      But I digressed. And was probably seconds away from having mace burned into my eyes by the unsuspecting hooker. I suppose a nice set of wheels would help avoid my being mistaken for a desperately broke mugger. Unfortunately, cruising down Geylang 'lorongs' in a Lotus Esprit is not an option available to me (currently). Don't get me wrong. I do like my cars fast and my women beautiful though I'd just as sooner settle for beautiful cars and fast women.


     Until I get to sniff a whore from a safe distance, I'm contented to simply explore the myriad wonders of this little blue planet, share my random musings with fellow epicureans and ponder the mystery of the fairer and arguably more fragrant sex. Hoo-ah! Now where is grumpy ol' Colonel Frank Slade?