YOU CAN’T BEAT A GOOD SPLASH OF EAU DE MAN

A refined Rab bathes himself in a pungent pong, slips on some fetching gear – and sallies forth into the busy streets to sample the delights of chilly city life

Life is full of little oppositions. Hebrides v the city. Beardie v babyfaced. Manly scent v lily of the unicorn. As regards the first named, on my most recent adventure to the city, I was forcibly reminded of how bitterly cold the east coast of Scotland is compared to the western seaboard.

It’s the same contrasted to the Northern Isles which, while right windy, are warmed by the Gulf Stream.

They say, by the way, that yon benign Atlantic current is due to be blootered soon by global warming. If true, life could get interesting in many parts of Scotland. And I mean that in the sense of the Chinese curse (“May you live in interesting times”).

Unlike in the Hebrides – joke incoming – it rains quite a bit in the city, so I wore a chic, above the knee raincoat, which seemed to attract some attention. Friends said I looked “smart”. But it was just functional day wear, available in abundance at all good newsagents.

I’m sensitive about my appearance in the city, where folk frequently titter. It could be a hair of out of place, an unappreciated fedora, or having half a beard after a shaving accident. They’ll laugh at anything. But, on this occasion, I thought the glances respectful. “There goes a man of taste and refinement. With a bit of Scotch pie on his upper lip.”

Needless to say, the tasteful raincoat came from Markies, which is where I also found the manly scent. Hooray!

Regular readers will recall (cynical chorus: “Only too well!”) how heartily I’ve lamented the lack of masculine pongs in shower cream. In most shops, there’s nothing but rose, avocado, sweet peony, marshmallow and unicorn urine.

A man in my position cannot be gadding about the city cutting business deals, organising major mergers and queuing up at Greggs while reeking of unicorn urine. Apart from which, being manly in neither body, DIY skills nor driving ability, bunging on a pungent pong is the only way in which I can make amends.

So, you can imagine how delighted I was to spy “sandalwood and tobacco” shower cream in Markies. It’s for the boys! I bought four tubes of the stuff. Got funny looks for that an’ all.

Good old Markies. One reads that it’s bouncing back, after a period where, while doing well on the food front, it seemed to have lost its way in clothing, not least after the usual suicidal appeal to the young.

Most commentary concentrated on women’s apparel, needless to say a mystery to moi, but I did notice they never got the shoulders right on men’s duds. Seems they’re all sorted now – I believe they beat other stores by having everything in their own, reasonablypriced brand.

That said, I can’t pretend I don’t feel awkward waxing lyrical about a business like this. But Markies is a national institution which every single citizen at some point in their puff has visited. If it falls, the country’s days are numbered.

Well, there I go over-egging the pudding, as ever. Still, that’s been my tuppence-worth on the big, important issues of the day. Understandably exhausted, I shall now bathe myself in sandalwood and tobacco.

That should put hairs on my chest.

IMAGINE HOW DELIGHTED I WAS TO SEE SANDALWOOD AND TOBACCO SHOWER CREAM IN MARKIES... I BOUGHT FOUR TUBES OF THE STUFF!

SPLASH IT ALL OVER: Rab reckons a good covering of pungent pong is an efficient way to display his manly side.