While studying abroad in France, I bought a perfume from a dude I'm convinced was really a wizard. It was made of absinthe and cannabis, and not only was it the best perfume my little freckled nose has ever smelled, it was magic.
I started out on a crusade for wedges and ended up backstage at a Lenny Kravitz concert. Magic, I tell you! There were also a lot of oysters and a boat involved.
But let me start at the beginning with the crusade for wedges.
I had been embracing French culture by shoving as many Nutella crepes into my mouth as humanly possible, but on this day my friend and I had a higher calling to answer to than warm hazelnut, chocolaty goodness. We were on a crusade for the Holy Grail, the perfect wedge sandal.
You think with the French being so fashion forward and all this would be an easy task, but let me tell you mon petit chou chou, it was not.
My friend and I are both already of giantess-level stature. She in a graceful-model way and me more awkward-giraffe, so skyscraper Spice Girl wedges were out. This was also the summer of the gladiator sandal. We wanted some strap action going on, but this was a crusade for wedges, and dying for Rome was so 2nd Century BCE.
After striking out at shoe store after shoe store, and to avoid being captured by Nazis also on the hunt for the grail, my friend and I decided to dip into a furniture store, aka the wizard’s den.
It was a dark place with a weird mix of modern, eclectic pieces made of things like spoons and ancient furniture from India and Africa full of primordial forces. Everything was ornate and seemed to glow like the insides of a pirate’s chest. The storeowner, aka the wizard, asked us if we wanted to try some perfume they sold. We were hesitant until he told us it was made of absinthe and cannabis.
I shit you not, a perfume made of dank and the green fairy.
It smelled like sex. Not actual sex with sweat and fluids, but beautiful, holy hell can this scent be up my nostrils forever blocking all brain function, sex.
We walked out of the store with our noses glued to our wrists. Every few steps we had to smell it. We couldn’t stop. It was intoxicating.
Floating on a cloud of cannabis and absinthe fumes, we decide to say fuck it to the crusade for wedges and get some oysters, because what doesn’t compliment sex in a bottle like an aphrodisiac on the half shell.
But the French are weird, and shut down their restaurants in the between lunch and dinner, and it was not yet dinner. We went into an Irish pub, with a real Irish bartender, and ordered the two beers with the highest alcohol content with the intent of just stopping in till the restaurants opened back up.
Then some drunk dude, probably lured by the smell of absinthe, cannabis, and sex, or the fact that my friend is a total babe, sauntered on over, and asked us if we spoke American.
We told him yes, we did indeed speak English, and he and his drunk American cronies proceeded to buy us round after round of Jäger shots, all of which we took in honor of Memorial Day. Nothing says Memorial Day quite like a bunch of drunk Americans at an Irish Pub in France, taking shots of German liquor.
God bless America.
We never got our oysters, but after too many Jäger shots, a bottle of champagne, and who knows what else, drunk dude tells us he’s the musical engineer for Lenny Kravitz, and we should come to the show tomorrow. He gave us his card and told us to text him.
The next day we knew we had to go back to the furniture store and buy that perfume. When we walked in, the wizard had a knowing twinkle in eye. Sly magical bastard knew all along we’d be back.
American girls just can't resist the alcohol and drug infused sex juice.
We walked out of the shop once again deeply inhaling the magic sex perfume, craving oysters. We also some how again just missed lunch and all the restaurants were closing.
My friend walked up to the hunkiest waiter I’ve ever seen, and asked if we could get some oysters to go. One whiff of the magic, sex perfume, and he agreed to serve us a boat full of oysters.
The magic seemed to be fading a bit when drunk dude never got back to us. A little disappointed, we boarded a dinner cruise our group of study abroadees was scheduled to go on. But just as the boat was about to pull out, I magically got a text from drunk dude with an address for the Lenny concert, saying if we could be there in half an hour he could get us in.
We jumped off the boat, in a blaze of Nazi bullets, just as it was about to pull out, and after making another harrowing escape searched for a cab. There were no cabs to be found.
I magically remembered I had put a business card for a cab company in my pocket from a few nights before, and the first guy we stopped magically spoke English and called the cab for us.
I’m not cool enough to be backstage at a Lenny Kravitz concert in America, let alone in France, but covered in magic sex perfume anything can happen.
We got to watch the whole show from the side of the stage, and pretend like American Woman was for us. Straight up magic.
With the magic of the Internet, you don’t need a wizard or voodoo to get your own bottle of Absolument Absinthe perfume. Even if you're not looking for a scent with cosmic power, I still highly recommend it.
It’s this great balance between masculine and feminine, light yet earthy. They say it’s a unisex perfume, but really it’s just all the sex, all the sex of the world in one lovely green magical bottle.
A little spritz of this stuff and you’ll feel like you can take over the world, or at least approach that dude across the bar you’ve been eye fucking all night. Scratch that. Use it and take over the world. I’m telling you this stuff has the power to spawn a race of beautiful, absinthe-cannabis, sex goddesses.
And if you’re wondering about the wedges, asking yourself did we reach the promised land? You bet your ass we did. Infused with the magical perfume we were able to escape Jafar and the Nazis, and find a whole temple full of them in Paris. Though I’m starting to think the power of ever-lasting life may lie in a tiny green bottle of Absolument Absinthe and not killer wedges.