Wearing aftershave ironically - file under 'First World problems'

In the mid 90s, when Loungecore had its day in the sun, I didn't need poking with a pointed stick to make me clean out my parents' record collection. Or pay silly money for lounge compilations (back when CDs were still selling for an eye watering RRP of £16.99) full of Tony Hatch*, Alyn Ainsworth and the Harry Roche Constellation: I sort of loved this stuff anyway. So when clubs like Blow Up and Fabric were having Lounge nights and hipsters (not the hipsters we know today) were crate digging for the easiest of easy listening long-players, I didn't have to listen to this stuff ironically anymore. I could just listen to it.


But how does it work with men's fragrances - I'm talking 1970s aftershaves here? I remember writing that when I was seventeen I thought Blue Stratos was the last word in men's toiletries. At a time when men's grooming comprised soap on a rope and low budget splash-ons - Brut, Denim, Hai Karate, Old Spice, Tabac et al - it was only Blue Stratos that warranted repeat usage. Once you took away the aroma of stale fags and beer from most pubs back in the seventies and early eighties, the only smell left in the room (apart from BO) would have been a couple of wide boys at the bar who'd spent all their disposable income drowning themselves in Brut 33.

So I recently spotted online that you can still buy Blue Stratos. Whether or not it went away and has now come back, or just never went away in the fist place is anyone's guess. Anyway, I had to investigate: would it come in the same distinctive blue bottle? Yes it does. Would I still get that same frisson when I unscrewed the top? Er, no, not really. And, more importantly, would it still smell the same, a smell that would take me back to a time and place? Mmm, sort of. (Or would it smell like an industrial household cleaning product?). And, even if it did smell the same, would I be able to wear it? And by that, I of course mean would I be able to wear it for real, or would it just be an ironic gesture gently reminding me that a much younger version of me would wear this scent in the feint hope of pulling fair maidens who, like me, knew no better? I'll get back to you on that one.

Hardly a ringing endorsement - the jury are still holed up in their hotel, they could be there quite a while yet. Without going into a laboured review of Blue Stratos 2.0 and banging on about floral top notes & musky base notes, the bottom line is that it's 'quite pleasant, actually.' And no, it doesn't smell like an industrial household cleaning product. Not on me, anyway...

* I make no apologies for digging out this Longecore classic again. Tony Hatch can do no wrong in my book.

The Tony Hatch Orchestra: Soul Coaxing

Down The Hatch

Tony Hatch is 71 today. I'm sure we all (even those poor unfortunates who were on the receiving end of a shoeing on New Faces) wish him Many Happy Returns.

Hatch's Menorca retirement is obviously funded by his throwaway Neighbours jingle jangle, but he has a huge loungecore following who fondly remember Soul Coaxing, Man Alive, Sportsnight (with and without Coleman) and many more easy listening staples.

And that's before you even touch his Pet Clark anthems, Don't Sleep In The Subway and Downtown:



Or the perennial Crossroads - forget the shaky sets, Amy Turtle and daft Benny - you can even forget the lamentable Macca cover version. Just remember this:

Nothing much to do and all day to do it

Saturday afternoon. Mrs M's away on what she calls a girlie weekend, so I've got some time to myself. Well, I will have when I've worked through the list she's left me; how do you point a gable end? I walked into town this morning along the tow path (it must be Spring) where the only distractions were anglers (one dressed top to toe in army fatigues!), barges (why do folks on them wave?) and a couple of Canada geese (coming over here, taking all our fish). After a few errands it was too balmy not to walk back again - this time via The King Billy for a pint or two of gold (actually, Blue Monkey Amarillo). I was then reminded it was Grand National day so a few bob on King John's Castle and Eric's Charm and back to Medd Towers: where the order of the day is Yorkshire tea and maybe a couple of DVDs still in shrink wrap from Crimbo.

I feel like Homer when Marge and the kids go to Church and he wanders round in his briefs all day: 'I'm wizzing with the bathroom door open!'

This was the tune playing in my head as I walked back from the pub:

Tony Hatch Orchestra - Soul Coaxing (1968)