(WITH APOLOGIES TO PACO RABANNE)
Hi. You didn’t wake me up before you left.
I couldn’t bear to. Mommy came to pick me up, and lying there next to your Cabbage Patch Kid, with that smile on, you looked just like a little girl.
I am a little girl. I’m only 7.
You didn’t look a day over 5.
Flatterer. You know I love it. And you know what else I love?
You do egg me on. Okay—the cut of my He-Man Masters of the Universe T-shirt? The way my GoBot transforms? My Tonka dump truck?
No, silly. Your scent. I can still smell you on the high chair. Whatever were you wearing?
I thought you knew. That’s Gregory’s. It was developed by a Florida couple named Perini, and my mommy got it for me at I. Magnin, which will carry it this winter. So will Macy’s and probably Neiman-Marcus. It’s named for the Perinis’ nephew, and it costs only $15.50 for .85 fluid ounces, and it’s especially for people like me—you know, the 3-to-10 set. Randy Perini says, “Now when he dresses up in $125 shoes and suits, manicures his nails and brushes his hair, the young sophisticated gentleman will have a fragrance all his own. He won’t have to borrow Dad’s.”
Oh, stop. You know what it does to me when you quote great men.
You bet I do. Well, I’ve got to go—it’s time for my nap, and I’m worn out from reaching up to the phone. I guess it’s ciao for now, baby.
Okay, kid. Don’t be a stranger. And do bring Gregory back, too.