While many in the world cite New York City as the “Greatest City in the World,” those of us who live in it understand it to be what it really is, a rotten pile of garbage filled with excrement, kitty litter and hypodermic needles. In the 70s and 80s our fair five boroughs were a flaming mess, but now that it has been purged of grit and grime by the righteous Masters of Reality, who managed to corporatize and gentrify every inch of this shit-hole block by block.
But no matter how much blood money they squeezed from the stones, brick, and mortar of every building, no one could ever get the stink off of this goddamned place. Until now perhaps? Bond No. 9 has introduced it’s latest fragrance named after Brooklyn, the former industrial wasteland turned trendy night-spot for soon-to-be yuppies.
For those us familiar with the smells of Brooklyn (ranging from fried-food to spilt beer to thick oily garbage stinks), the concept of a fragrance that aims to capture the stench of said borough should come as an entirely revolting thought. But my guess is that the bastards over at Bond No. 9 haven’t ventured much beyond Williamsburg and Park Slope, hiding instead in the maternal safety of brownstones and the barren soullessness of Condo Country. My sugestion to those folks would be to take a ride on the G to Marcy Projects and see if you want to bottle up that wiff and shuck it to assholes who have more money than brains for $220 a bottle! It is in this writer’s humble opinion that this perfume has a name much more apt: bullshit.