When I write, I write about people and memories, not smells, though smells do conjure up lots of memories about people.

Here’s a new memory, thanks to the smell: Slumberhouse Ore.

When I sit in a dark corner in a private booth at a ramen restaurant, after a long day of friends and fairs, I’m in dinner mode. I’m ready for food and drink. But when I sit in a dark corner in a private booth at a ramen restaurant with someone who has been smelling whiskey and cocoa on me for twenty minutes in a heated car with the butt warmers on full blast, they’re ready to take saliva samples.

Here’s what to expect after wearing slumberhouse ore:

• Dry mouth and tongue. Have a personal assistant join you on your dinner date to place your order and eat your meal because you’re going to be sucking face with your booth partner.
• Difficult questions made easy. Let your misted neck do all the talking. When a tough question is asked of you, like: “How come the things that make you happy don’t make you happy?” tilt your neck towards them and wait. They’ll forget they ever asked.
• A boudoir photoshoot as soon as you find one. If there was a night to forget that emergency tampon so you folded 72″ worth of commercial grade tp into your panties, the night you wear slumberhouse ore would not be the night.

This one’s a keeper. Just gotta mark the wearable weeks on the calendar.