Smell ya later

Walking through Bloomingdale's tonight on my way to the mall's Apple store I had to run the perpetual gantlet of the perfume and makeup counters. The aroma of that section of the store is the same, always, no matter if you're in Bloomingdale's, Macy's, Hecht's, Nordstrom, Neimann-Marcus -- they all smell like the Roanoke, Va., mall circa 1988. That would be around the time I got outed in my frat and unceremoniously dumped (unceremoniously, perhaps, but very, very dramatically). Anyway, without a fraternity facade to maintain, I began spending more time hanging out with gay crowds from Virginia Tech and Radford. That required lots of time in the Roanoke gay bar The Park, much cruising of the mall, and wearing far too much Calvin Klein Obsession. Actually, it also meant spending money I didn't have on clothes I probably didn't need but felt compelled because the whole gay style thing was so completely different than the rich Southern boy khaki look that dominated at Washington & Lee (and which, frankly, I never managed to pull off either). The long and the short of it is that a trip through the Bloomingdale's perfume counters makes me feel broke, jittery and socially insecure -- and reminds me of just how bad the '80s actually smelled.