Now Departing from Gate 27 - Sanity!

It seems like only about 84 days ago when we last reported on baffling concepts in perfume technology, but this one makes me regret ever heaping abuse on that noble scent… in fact, I humbly apologize for ever doubting their contribution to the arts, society and human progress, now that my eyes have been opened to the depths of pointlessness which take place when someone really talented turns their depraved imagination to the art of fragrance.

Recently I learned something which moved my internal doom-clock a bit closer to midnight: There exist people who have been paid to invent, produce and market perfume to make you smell like the great airports of the world.

I imagine the pitch meeting for this product idea: a trendy hairstyle with a meticulously rumpled suit stands before some stylish European-design furniture and addresses a pill-zonked audience. “Think back to your favorite vacation - what scents come to mind? Waxed floors, sweaty clothes, simmering frustration… yes,” he says, warming to his topic, “the comforting rancidity of greasy fast food kiosks, the flavorless metallic tang of gigantic air conditioning systems, that subtle hint of jet fuel. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” He flashes an expensive smile around the room, and is met with glassy stares.

By itself, had this gone no further than the “terrible idea” stage with maybe a lonely prototype sample bottle to sink into well-deserved obscurity, it would not rise to the level of contributing to Why We’re Doomed. But it’s far more depressing than that.

“The Scent of Departure” isn’t merely a product which captures essence-of-any-old-airport. Why, that would hardly be worth $45 per bottle (which works out to a bit under $3,400 a gallon, for those keeping score at home) No, you get to choose from 16 different airports - from Los Angeles to Milan, Bali to Singapore, even Doha and Munich are on the list.

And hey guys, Valentine’s Day is coming up, and there’s nothing more romantic than to give a gift which says to your soulmate: “honey, I wish you smelled more like the Budapest arrival concourse…” (but check with your friends to make sure they’re not buying the same one, nothing’s more embarrassing for a worldly woman than to turn up at a party smelling like the same baggage carousel as the hostess!)