
At first I didn't really notice the smell. A little musky, but not too bad. By the ten minute mark though, I couldn't stand it. I smelled like I was coming from a creepy grandpa convention. I just reminded me of wrinkly balls. I was more than fifteen miles from my house so I couldn't go back. I tried to figure out a way to remedy this problem of mine. I'd rather smell like a used tampon than this disgusting Grey Flannel bullshit.
Luckily I had an extra shirt in my car so I changed into that. Somehow the smell became stronger, as if it gained power the more I struggled to evade from the horrid scent. I almost wanted to shit my pants so I didn't have to smell the cologne anymore. I'm pretty sure if I wore this cologne everyday I would never have intercourse again and make a lot of friends in their late-70's.
Eventually I got home, but the smell was still very pungent. I decided a shower would rinse away the horribleness that is Grey Flannel. I wasn't gonna fuck around though. Lava soap and a metal sponge should do. After an hour in the shower stripping off layers of my skin the smell was finally gone. My nose had never smelled fresher air. I had escaped the smell tyranny of The Flannel.
I found the bottle that had ruined my afternoon and took it outside with a lighter and a bucket. After covering the bottle of cologne in lighter fluid I lit it on fire and laughed maniacally as it burned to its death. Unfortunately the smell of burning Grey Flannel was much worse than the cologne itself and I passed out due to the smoke.
Next time, Geoffrey Beene, next time.