He Who Smelt It – Episode 2: Can I Get an A*men?

The Big Lebowski sits sequestered in his study, in crisis after having lost his young wife.

The Dude sits across from him calmly smoking a j.

The Big Lebowski, pondering life, poses the question, “What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski? … Is it being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost? Isn’t that what makes a man?”

The Dude, our far out robe-clad hero, in a moment of sheer genius replies, “Sure, that and a pair of testicles.”

I’ve just spent a week with A*men by Thierry Mugler, and in my humble opinion, that legendary line could have easily been changed to, “Sure, that and a spritz of A*men.” Yes, my substitute would have been much less funny given the situation. I realize that. Let’s say it together. Testicle. It’s a funny word for a body part that is both responsible for life and unprecedented in its ability to, when struck, elicit some of the biggest (and most painful) laughs on America’s Funniest Home Videos. You know you giggled a little when it popped up unexpectedly in, of all places, a cologne review. And if for some reason you didn’t… well… relax. Have a Coke, a smile, and then keep reading. Others of you are scratching your heads. What is this numbskull up to? Stay with me. I assure you the two do equate. Let me make some sense of it all.

Essentially, what I’m saying is this: A*men is the essence of man. It’s human engineered testosterone in a bottle. Unlike the Lupin Dandy, which I spent a wonderful yet confusing week with not long ago, I loved A*men from the first spray. I didn’t have to wait for those middle and base notes that I loved so much with the Lupin. It’s weird for me to say, as someone who has never much cared or thought about cologne, but when I first smelled this on my own skin my confidence skyrocketed. Upon contact, it seemed to form a layer of machismo over my entire body that had me ready to go 12 rounds with Ali and confident that I could break the heart of even the most jaded female. My gait suddenly had a swagger like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Maybe the scent was just that great. Maybe once it hit my skin, some hulk-like chemical reaction occurred that only Bruce Banner himself could explain. Maybe it was a bit of both.

Whatever the case may be, this formula is something special. Though I’m no chemist, if I were to don a lab coat and goggles and mix a batch up for myself, this would be my recipe:

1. 1 jalapeno
2. 1 chocolate bar
3. 1 tiny box of raisins
4. 1 dash pepper
5. 1 handful muddy soil
6. 1 cigar
7. 1 pinch essence of Steve McQueen
8. a bit of Burt Reynolds mustache circa 1978
9. 1 drop of Muhammad Ali’s sweat

Toss all ingredients into a blender, liquefy, pour into a bottle, and pop a cork in it.

This strut-inducing formula revitalizes masculinity. Guys, are you struggling with the ladies? Nervous about giving that presentation at the seminar? Unsure how to handle your overbearing boss or that difficult client? Don’t know how to confront that annoying neighbor or the drunken buffoon at the bar? Amen keeps the mind sharp and the wit keen. It assists with word choice and delivery and aids your body’s non-verbal communication. It tempers emotions, cures bad posture, and assures that your head is always held high. Ladies, is your man slipping? Is he not what he once was? This is the perfect birthday surprise or stocking stuffer. Amen is the cure for what ails him. It’ll put (or keep) the pep in every man’s step and remind him what he’s made of…  slugs and snails and puppy dog tails.

Scientific evidence would most certainly suggest this compound enters the body through the pores, seeks out those characteristics that a man is missing or lacking, and latches onto them, thus making him complete. Let’s face it – sometimes we all need a boost. I was surprised to find that you could get that from a cologne, but you can. This one stunned me from the get-go, and it proceeded to only enhance that feeling throughout my week. Like a 500-foot home run, it’s a no-doubter.  I shed a tear the first day I was without it. Was it because I was feeling blue, or was it because I was no longer walking around enveloped in a shroud of A*men?

I know, seeking answers to such deeply philosophical questions can cause synapses to misfire, but I’ve got one more for anyone out there willing to help.  Can I get an A*men? I’m fresh out and a shell of the man I was during those seven superbly vigorous days I spent with it not long ago.