Smelling Presidential

What Should the Scent of a Woman President Be?

An advertisement keeps showing up on my social media feed for the Caswell-Massey brand of soap that will make me smell like President John F. Kennedy. Let’s talk about this because I intend to ruthlessly compete with them.

The JFK soap is not to be confused with another offering, a cologne, I think, that would lend me the scent of George Washington. So, the question becomes: Do I want to smell like the handsome adonis who was president when I was born, with the toothy smile and who women went wild for, or the Founding Father with the dour expression and teeth extracted from deceased humans mixed with ivory and anchored in lead? Let’s see…

As much as I admire George Washington, the Revolutionary essence doesn’t appeal to me. I think it would be kind of musty and metallic. I can’t get past the teeth and the powdered wig. Besides, what should Washington’s greatness smell like? I’m going to ask my friend David O. Stewart, who has written a prizewinning book about him, but didn’t cover the role aroma played in his ascent (heh).

I also can’t get Martha Custis Washington out of my head, which, forgive me, doesn’t exactly conjure up Famke Janssen in Goldeneye. Another variable in JFK’s favor is that he showered a lot because he was busy doing both presidential and somewhat-less-presidential stuff that could conceivably make one want to self-sterilze before going home. Kennedy probably smelled like a barefoot walk along the rocks at Hyannisport. I’d like to smell like Camelot.

When I was little, my dad wore a white windbreaker in Atlantic City with red and blue stripes around the collar, paired with Wayfarer-style sunglasses. When I asked him about it, he admitted the getup was a JFK rip-off. “I wanted to look like him. If somebody didn’t like it, screw ‘em.” I understood why. Coolness transcended ideology.

That Commander-in-Chief Musk

If I intend to take on Caswell-Massey, I’ll need market research. A lifelong student of the presidency (my book, Wiseguys and the White House, came out last year), I think I have an edge over the average person when it comes to what presidents may smell like. This shrewd advantage could make me the next Elon Musk. “Eric Musk” doesn’t sound bad, and the “Musk” name hits the mark, as did Margaret Court in tennis, Usain Bolt in track and field, and, of course, Thomas Crapper, the plumbing visionary.

I can tell you right off the bat that the whole Millard Fillmore/James Buchanan era skeeves me. They probably smelled like boredom and the attic in my grandparents’ house.

I’m a huge Abraham Lincoln fan, but I’m not sure I want to smell like him, sorry to say. I can’t imagine the stovepipe hat was a aromatic delight, or those wrinkly black suits after hanging out in a tent all day at Antietam. Ulysses S. Grant won the Civil War, but having read his biography, my sense is that there would be a lot of whiskey and cheap cigar smoke involved in Eau d’Ulysses.

I could probably work with Rutherford Birchard Hayes because “Birchard” has the ring of trees or birch beer, both which can give off a pleasant scent. Grover Cleveland spells trouble because, well, “Grover,” but we could always spend more on advertising with him. Teddy Roosevelt gives me room to maneuver because ruggedness is marketing gold (Just look at Ralph Lauren, a short Jewish boy named Lifschitz from the Bronx). Given that William Howard Taft supposedly got stuck in a bathtub, there might be a bath gel containing a lubricant that could facilitate extractions.

I have a good feeling about Calvin Coolidge and Harry Truman because there was a crispness to their demeanor, and my product development team could whip up something autumnal. Warren G. Harding has been associated with decadence, and I’m not averse to a “What happens in a White House cloak room stays in a White House cloak room” aftershave. For Franklin D. Roosevelt, I’d go nautical with a hint of fireplace smoke. I’m going to table LBJ and Richard Nixon because their eras cause a lot of memorial pain and, as we know from Proust, we don’t want people thinking they smell like Vietnam, civil unrest, or pre-dawn break-ins.

Having seen Ronald Reagan up close when I worked in his White House, I admit that I don’t recall a scent, but the man was immaculate. I remember getting dressed in the morning and feeling like my suits never had those sharp lines that Reagan’s did, which is why I decided not to challenge him in 1984. I still dream of people being asked someday why they are voting for me and having them say, “He just smells like he could handle Putin.”

I saw Barack Obama once, and he gave off a freshly scrubbed aura like Reagan, but warmer. I could see why the five-year-old Jacob Philadelphia wanted to touch Obama’s hair, which is my favorite presidential photo. Given current emotions, I won’t share my notes on Trump’s concoction other than to say he has already marketed “Trump: The Fragrance” (seriously) — and that I know what color his product package will be.

A Fair but Commanding Bouquet

Now, to gender. As a consumer innovator, I’ve calculated that developing products for women could double my market size. But there’s a small obstacle: no women presidents. This must change, if only for the sake of jobs. The more people I can employ, the more wealth is generated, and the better America will smell.

I think the Women President line will outsell the men swiftly, and here’s my reasoning. In kindergarten, I didn’t think much about gender, but deduced two of them (we did nutty things like this in the late 1960s): The Ones That Smell Nice and The Ones That Don’t.

The only thing I had against The Ones That Smell Nice was that if you tried to talk to them, you could, like, die. I’m serious. They were terrifying. They had pretty hair with headbands and shoes with little buckles and the scent of mid-April preceded them. People who smelled like this were capable of anything and shouldn’t be trifled with. And don’t think they don’t know it: Laura Croft, Mulan, Harley Quinn, Jackie Brown, Thelma, Louise, Foxxy Cleopatra, Elle Woods, Kick-Ass, Hermione Granger, Michelle G in first grade, the one glaring at me from the dining room table right now...

The Ones That Don’t Smell Nice – I remember a kid named Wayne in particular – could at least be approached, even if they were revolting. You could say things like, “Did you see ‘Adam-12’ last night?” Wayne would say, “Yeah,” and I could say, “Did you see how Officer Malloy tackled that perp in the alley?” and Wayne could say, “Yeah.” These are the stinky nimrods we’ve been electing president for a quarter of a millennium. What would be so bad about trying The Ones That Smell Nice? That’s how I see it anyway.

You’ve probably noticed I have a thing about hygiene. It’s not unusual for me to ask a family member about an actor when watching a TV show or movie, “Do you think he smells?” This runs in the family. My grandmother told me that when my aunt was little, she turned off the television because a famous singer came on. When asked why she shut the tube off, my aunt said, “Dat lady stinks from her froat.”

I don’t have it in me to start naming names other than to say that as much as I like him as an actor, I’m not so sure Johnny Depp should have a fragrance any more than, say, Zachary Taylor should. It’s called “Suavage,” which I love because it evokes “suave” and “savage.” The only thing funnier was a cologne from the late 1970s called “Mandate,” which I’m sure the marketers named that because some Rhodes Scholar thought, “Well, they’re men, Murray, and, um, they’re going on a date, so…”

Normally, I don’t solicit input from things I write because I get back Internet Ted Bundy lunacy, but if any of my friends have an idea for presidential scents, I’m willing to listen. Just keep in mind that this is going to be huge, and I have no intention of compensating anyone for their ideas. Moguls like me keep the money and the credit; everybody else can wallow in their funk.

Turning to what a female president’s scent might be, the first woman president shouldn’t smell too lady-in-the-elevator-y. We don’t want a stink bomb like Aunt Evelyn in the Oval Office. It doesn’t inspire confidence. Something outdoorsy might click, but not shoot-your-dog-in-the-head-on-your-farm outdoorsy. Our pioneering she-prez should betray some ferocity but below Manson Girl levels. We want to know that Madam President would bomb an Iranian nuclear reactor but not the guy who broke up with her after senior prom.

As a final thought, in a world that remains sexist, Americans will likely need to see a first woman president who is a bit sleeker than Golda Meir, more approachable than Margaret Thatcher, and —importantly — who could plausibly smell like she’d unleash a few Hellfire missiles on Venezuela. I’m thinking something citrus.