Author results: Tyson for Health Club
People often say to me: "Hey Tyson, how are you - whoa! You smell good! What is it?" To which I return with a coy but knowing grin, reluctant to reveal the reason for my redolence. As a rule of good deportment, the modern man must leave an air of mystery, you know! Well just for you, o special Two Thousand reader, I shall share my scented secret: Penhaligon's.
Unlike Melbourne, we in Sydney are not yet accustomed to gallivanting around filthy back alleys to access bars and restaurants. So as you lead your date down a dodgy little unnamed alley off Pitt Street, have some fun and casually describe IRREVERSIBLE as the sexiest movie you've ever seen and just as they're about to leg it - hit them with the choice of not one but two Korean BBQ restaurants.
It's 1971 and you are French. You wake up, get dressed and eat a croissant - the crispy, buttery flakes fall onto your copy of LE MONDE with every bite. You peruse the travel section with a rote sense of boredom, traversing from country to country with every article.
Then all of a sudden, it hits you.
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