MEN WHO SMELL OF CAKE, AND OTHER THINGS

It happened on Kearny near Sutter. Now I know why I seldom go down to that part of town. It's a very strange neck of the woods.

I had been looking around for a shop that is no longer there, when I smelled cake. Nice fresh cake, with a slightly odd undertone of savage musk. When I looked around there were no cake shops nearby. Momentarily the smell got stronger, then faded again. At that point I realized that it had been a middle-aged gentleman (older than me) who had just passed, and I also understood that it was his aftershave. Some older people are less acute in the nose department, and just don't smell themselves really well. Consequently they splash on what others merely sprinkle.
This post is not about sprinkling those past early youth.
Such as men with non-functioning olfactories.
It is about what men shouldn't do.
As well as fragrances.

The smells of a fine cake, alongside a small cup of coffee or tea, is one of the most intensely private of sensations. Fresh moist sponge, perfect fruit, and a subtle drop of vanilla, added to the faint faint nose-whisper of rich whipped cream........ And a toasty hue of coffee in the air, or wine-like black tea.
An aromatic recall of summers past, sunlight, and dense green beyond the curtains. Or a fond memory of early spring rain, darkness during daylight, and a warm room.
Perfect, indeed, entirely by oneself. But cake is made in measures far too large for just one person, so inevitably there is also an association with others, who might not be present when that most delicious slice is guiltily enjoyed alone.
Cake is the distilled epitome of sharing.


I can imagine several personal fragrances I would much rather have on a middle-aged man. Cake must obviously fade into the bottom rung of choices. Perhaps a whiff of pine-tar, or a shadow of gasoline and brake oil. Rope, leather, and saddle grease -- although that is more of a Castro Street affectation, I think.
An suggestion of dark Dutch shag tobacco, for a bright young teenager.
Or tweeds with an underlay of fields, and heather in bloom.
Tannins from oak leaves in Autumn.


Several years ago there was a men's cologne with a very pronounced pong of vanilla. Yes, other essences too, as the overall effect was meant to suggest a tropical island, albeit one with carnivorous wildlife. Altogether a bit much. But it went through a phase, and every day you'd get on the elevator and someone was wearing it. You could tell when their own awareness of it's effect weakened, as over a period of weeks the smell got stronger and stronger.
At times it was so horrendous that you wished that someone would get in after eating onions. Or maybe salami, real Italian or Hungarian cured meat, with a juicy reek of garlic. No, tuna fish. My kingdom for some tuna fish!
A basket of orchard peaches, bruised and oozing!


Or even, in a pinch, cake.

As perfumes go, cake isn't so bad.

Men should not smell of cake, however.

Maybe persons of the female gender should.

But rather than wearing cake, it ought to be shared.

Over cups of crema-capped espresso or kermesite-hued tea.




I spent the next few hours thinking of cake. But I did not go search for it, as even one slice is a bit much for an adult. Cake, almost more than anything else, is the province of the young.
People with quick digestions, high metabolisms, tons of rambunctious energy, and above all, extraordinary tolerances for sugar.

Once you're past twenty you quiet down a bit.
Cake comes only on special occasions.
That, too, is a pleasure.



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