There is a very unsophisticated and commonplace aftershave that makes my heart skip a beat every time I smell it.
Only last week, a portly man of approximately sixty was sauntering down the street wearing head-to-toe leather, hair laden with grease Danny Zuko style, and this aftershave wafting behind him alluringly. Reader, my logical brain categorically didn’t fancy this man, but my nose suggested I stay close to him for more sniffs, that perhaps this chap was indeed much sexier than my eyes led me to believe.
