A rose by any other name, apparently just stinks

It seems like everyone is all abuzz about a study involving scent that was recently published. If you haven't taken a look you can look here, here, here or track down a copy of Nature if you have access.

"To many, urine smells like urine and vanilla smells like vanilla. But androstenone, a derivative of testosterone that is a potent ingredient in male body odor, can smell like either - depending on your genes. While many people perceive a foul odor from androstenone, usually that of stale urine or strong sweat, others find the scent sweet and pleasant. Still others cannot smell it at all." - Science Daily

Obviously some people are more excited than others. Geneticists get all sticky in the drawers whenever they manage to nail down one more detail linked to those miraculous molecular chains filling our cellular nuclei, which is only to be expected. They work hard to discretely categorize those details. If they want to cut loose and spray their genetic fluids over each other and the labs in celebration, I say bravo and I can cut you in on a deal for some premium lubes.

I'm also quite sure it has caused a stir in the aftershave and cologne industry. Although there are people who cannot detect androstenone, not to mention a percentage who find it similar to aged piss which I suspect would be a niche market, I think the potential revenues from those who detect vanilla is going to be exceedingly attractive to tap into. After all, the entire point of rubbing scent on one's skin is to be appealing and it's almost certain if androstenone tickles your fancy, it's tickling something else making physical contact even more attractive. Biology is funny like that; rarely does something have only one duty.

However, I must confess those were not the first thoughts I entertained upon learning of the study. Nope, my first reaction was disgust. I can imagine just how many men who upon having the crude headline regarding the study revealed to them will seize upon it as a rationale for their own lack of hygiene. There is no miasma wafting about his person, it's merely that you don't have the right gene to appreciate it. The birds and squirrels dropping dead as he passes are simply an unfortunate coincidence. Is the paint peeling off the walls? Must be a substandard batch. He bathes once a year whether he needs it or not.

Some greasy clod is going to make the social rounds convinced he's reeking of animal magnetism because of this. He'll be half right. He will curdle noses at a dozen paces, but you must be in error if you find him less than sweet smelling. He shall be convinced that exudes the "good" version, utterly clueless that there is no margin of error and no incorrect interpretations to his fumes.

If nothing else, can you conceive of the additional horror tossing a scientific tidbit into the minds of convention geeks? Soap and deodorant is already known to maintain the most tenuous of connections to the stereotypical participant. Arm them not only with data that not only makes them feel smart but excuses a personal failing?! Dear gods, it will be like living downwind of a Tennessee body farm during a heat-wave.

I wonder if perfumed handkerchiefs and pomanders will be making a comeback.