*Current Fragrance: Couture! by Moschino
*Currently Listening: The B.S. Report - The one where he interviews Lena Dunham.
Sunday is Father's Day. That makes it time to write about the one immediate family member I haven't written about: my Dad.
To say that my Dad is a character would be an understatement. When I think of the cast of characters that populate my life, my Dad is certainly the Character of Characters. He thinks he's both the Ultimate Boy Scout and the Original Cowboy. I feel that every new person I bring into my life must be given a crash course in dealing with my father. You never quite know what you're gonna get, but he's my Dad and I love him.
Being as that this is a perfume/fragrance blog, it's a little difficult to write about my Dad through a perfumey/fragrance lense, as I've NEVER seen anything but bottles of Stetson or Old Spice on his dresser. Then is occurred to me, you know what has fragrance in it...shampoo! That's something that I've NEVER seen my Dad use (OK - I did not mean that in a creepy sort of way at all), SHAMPOO!
The reason that I've never seen so much as a bottle of shampoo go into my father's shower, is that my Dad doesn't use shampoo. EVER! He has a strange affinity for soap, and that's where the hilarity/completely awkward stories ensue.
I must have been somewhere between 10 and 12. I decided in my adolescent good-sense-less-ness that it would be a good idea to be like Dad and shampoo my hair with soap. There were two bars of soap in the shower that were "Dad's" 1) Irish Spring and 2) Lava. Logic dictates that one would wash their hair and face with Irish Spring and everything else with Lava. No, not Kathleen! I don't know if I was trying to prove a point in my adolescent mind or if I was just being a little shit, but I washed my hair with Lava. (I'm sure the pumice in there did WONDERS for my hair!)
After I was done with my shower and dressed in what I'm SURE was a silky pink night gown, I walked into the living room to be greeted by this conversation...
Mom: "What's in your hair?
Me: "Umm...the rest of my hair?"
Mom: "NO! There's little grey bits in there."
Me: "Oh, I didn't use shampoo. I used soap like Dad!"
*Mom glares at Dad*
Dad: "Which soap did you use?"
Me, "Your soap, Dad."
Dad: "Which one? There are two, Kathleen!"
Me: "Lava. The scratchy one. You have it outside too, by the garden hose."
Mom: "YOU WASHED YOU HAIR WITH LAVA SOAP!"
Mom and Dad (in unison): "BACK IN THE SHOWER AND WASH YOUR HAIR WITH SHAMPOO NOW!!!! TWICE!!"
Fast forward a good chunk of time and myself being firmly in adulthood to this past Christmas. By this point my Dad's full, thick, coarse head of hair is now completely grey and finally start to thin a little. I thought I was the smartest damned daughter EVER and have him LUSH's New Shampoo Bar. (I mean the man IS starting to thin out up top after all.) I was pretty smug - it's a solid, and it's proper shampoo. HAHA! I WIN!
No. Not so much.
I had also bought my husband LUSH's Soak and Float Shampoo Bar. He's a bit on the dry and itchy side, so it was the perfect choice for him.
I walked through the dining area just as my father was sniffing around my husband's head. (I found this to be odd behavior, even by my Dad's standards.) I guess this is a good time to mention that Soak and Float has cade oil in it, which smells like a cross between camp fire and beef jerky. I'm sure you can see where this is going....
Dad: *sniff. sniff* "I smell campfire and smoke! What the Hell smells like campfire and smoke?"
Me: "Dad! Stop sniffing Al's head. That's really weird!"
Dad: "WHAT SMELLS LIKE CAMP FIRE AND SMOKE?"
Al: "John, it's the shampoo bar Kat got me for Christmas. She got you one too I believe."
Dad: "WHY DOESN'T MINE SMELL LIKE CAMPFIRE AND SMOKE!?"
(I guess this is a good time to mention that my Dad has quite a pronounced Southern drawl, coupled with a pseudo-lisp as a result of having part of his tongue removed as a result of tongue cancer two or so years ago. When he raises his voice even just a little now, I can't help but giggle. I realize, this may make me a COMPLETELY HORRIBLE PERSON. Him raising his voice used to make me quake in fear, and now all a do is giggle. The world works in mysteriously ways, even though you probably think I'm going to Hell.)
Me: *silencing the giggles* "Because yours smells like cinnamon, Dad."
Dad: "I want the one that smells like campfire! I'm the Original Cowboy!"
*Al gets up and leaves the room* (Smart man)
Me: "OK, but Dad...I got you the cinnamon one because you're hair is starting to thin a little, you know...and it'll help with that."
Dad: "But I'm still a Cowboy!"
Me: "Sure Dad. You're still a Cowboy..."
If I didn't think it would be a TOTAL waste of money, I'd buy the man Lonestar Memories. Maybe a decant for Christmas.
*Currently Listening: 1901 by Phoenix
**Photo Credits: 1) memebase.com & 2) cheezburger.com