He’s soaking wet from dancing, all sweaty under his arms. As I lift the hair off the nape of my neck for him to fasten the necklaces, he closes in. Well, this is it, make or break, if I don’t like his smell, this is going nowhere. He smells of good honest sweat, no poncy deodorant for him. He’s a vegetarian so it’s not a meaty, kebabby smell, not overpowering, but strong enough to let me know, here is a man. I like it.

Viv Albertine