Assault of the Senses

 

Not every guy would react like that, but there was no doubt about it, give this one particular chap of the former acquaintance a bakery, one raising crisp, fresh loaf on site, a good variety and some pride in the product, add pastries, cakes, pies, tidbits &etc all of the same high standard, what you automatically found was all the girls there—for that one particular kinda guy—all the girls serving suddenly, as if by magic, appeared the sweetest, most scrumptious and completely delectable sorts imaginable. In short, virtually all in the shop transformed into lovey-dovey, heart-piercing desirables. As if a spell had been cast. Put same out on the street, in a bus, at a bar, passing by beneath an umbrella, nothing whatever like effect, according to this man. It was something of the gingerbread house effect that had been evoked in the schoolroom books of a couple of generations past, that vividness and compulsion. Similar had been found in the experience at markets, fruit stalls, delicatessens, occasionally behind chemist counters, for this particular fellow. (Nurses commonly of course, but that was a special case and for a much wider cohort.) Not so much cafe baristas, waitresses, checkout chicks &etc. Not an effect evident in kitchens and less so again offices and even dance halls & concerts. Much less so. For this certain kinda guy wired in his own curious kinda way. Neither did suchlike occur at the gym, as one might have thought, nor classes of any kind—yoga, study, lecture, whatever. Broccoli, carrot, even turnips, potato & onion on display could set the scene and serve the purpose equally well. Clothing stores too were a no-no for example; neither carefully lit bookshops or galleries propitious (even in the case where compelling portraits & still lives were displayed on the walls). The circumstance made this connoisseur wonder on the other hand about porn & fashion victims. What if those unfortunates were placed in the right, healthy environment, could perhaps they be decently rehabilitated? A mutually known painter friend, our man once recalled, excellent and committed female artist, took offence at the chap’s account of a gallery visit one afternoon, where a patron within the room had been described as a far greater and more captivating work of art than anything whatever on the walls. Sizeable nuisance thereby reported; understandable umbrage taken in that instance. And yet how to tip-toe around the fact? asked this admittedly odd fellow. Were his own reactions so very rare? Surely there would be many similarly constituted, he always continued like a dog at a bone in the same vein.