Chapter 1: The Paradox of Eau de Toilette

The term "Eau de Toilette" seems to be an oxymoron, especially when we consider its modern implications. The word "toilet" or "toilette" has taken on a less-than-flattering connotation in contemporary English. One wonders if marketing experts have recognized this and relegated the term "Eau de Toilette" to the annals of history.

Let’s take a moment to dissect this phrase for clarity:

• EAU — pronounced like "eew," suggesting something unpleasant.
• DE — raises the question of who one is dealing with.
• Toilette — often viewed as the male sanctuary where he escapes to avoid purchasing his partner costly Eau de Parfum.

This term is not synonymous with anything positive, unless you're in plumbing. It's, quite frankly, a rather unappealing term.

Despite this, "Eau de Toilette" continues to be used to describe scents that are meant to be delightful. There are fragrances I've encountered that could easily belong in a bathroom.

The phrase itself is French—a language often humorously stereotyped as belonging to individuals who may not prioritize hygiene, sporting unkempt appearances, and a fondness for garlic and onions. Stereotypes aside, it raises the question of why fragrance brands continue to embrace this linguistic heritage.

Can I get a “Oui-Oui”? (pronounced wee-wee)

We adorn ourselves with perfumes and colognes to emit pleasant aromas. When combined with our natural pheromones, these scents are intended to create a unique allure. However, I sometimes ponder what kind of partner the term "toilette" might attract. Perhaps this contributes to the rising divorce rates over the past century.

Personally, my pheromones are so intense that I feel the need to tone them down with Eau de Toilette, or else I'd be an irresistible magnet.

Now, I have two questions for the ladies, or any perfume aficionado:

1. Why do you apply perfume in the specific spots you choose? I can no longer watch the "dabbing" ritual without commenting. Is it a matter of distraction?
2. Has anyone ever taken a deep sniff behind your earlobes or on your inner wrists? I can count on one hand the times I've found myself with my nose in my partner's cleavage while fully clothed in public.

The only area further from the nostrils than the wrists is the toes—why not apply it there?

If you tend to sweat from behind your ears or your inner wrists, you may want to reconsider your fragrance choice and consult a dermatologist, as these areas typically lack sweat glands.

I enjoy observing people in the perfume sections of stores, where they rub their wrists together as if trying to create fire—it's reminiscent of swans courting by intertwining their necks. And the dabbing behind the ears—why is that a thing?

I understand applying perfume to the collarbone, cheeks, or even the upper thighs, but why not explore more unconventional areas?

I've read that spritzing perfume onto a hairbrush can help the scent last longer (be cautious of the alcohol content—spray the brush first). Who knew I’d evolve into a perfume influencer?

The origins of dabbing perfume, I wonder—who was the genius that initiated this ritual? Likely, it was the fragrance industry, encouraging over-application.

Interestingly, the word "parfum" comes from the concept of "to smoke through"—indicating the application should involve walking through a mist.

You're welcome.