Early morning. Ran out of deodorant. Decide to pick some up on the way to the building site. Only two places likely to be open at this time; the 7-11 or the 24-hour pharmacy. Thinking they may have a better selection, I opt for the pharmacy.
“Good morning. Do you have men’s deodorant ?”
“Just this one here,” she says, pointing to a shelf full of roll-ons.
“What is it ?” I ask.
“Black Sweat,” she replies.
“I’m sorry ?”
“Black Sweat,” she says again.
“Black Sweat ? It’s called Black Sweat ?”
“How much is it ?”
So now I have to decide if I’d like my armpits to smell of white sweat or black sweat. There seems to be no other choice.
“Okay, I’ll take it.”
She takes my money and puts the Black Sweat into a brown paper bag, making it look like something illicit.
I exit the shop, sit in my car and take it out.
Black Suede, reads the label, and I smile.
I lather it on and head up to the building site smelling like a cheap night out.