I’ll have a blue Christmas without you; I’ll be so blue just thinking about you, decorations of red on a green Christmas tree, won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me.
Now I’m fairly certain that when Elvis Aaron Presley was belting out this seasonal song back in the day, he didn’t have French aftershave on his (suspicious) mind. I however do, because for me Christmas isn’t complete without the vitally important smells of advocaat, sage & onion, fir trees and a brand new aftershave all flying through the air like the Snowman and his mates. I could describe the sport and masculine Bleu De Chanel by using words like peppermint, grapefruit, nutmeg and pink pepper but like most people you’ll probably find out for yourself by nipping into Boots, where you’ll liberally cover yourself in the stuff before realising ten minutes later (on the bus home) that it’s well nice and you really should have bought yourself a bottle there and then. Instead perhaps you’ll ask someone to give you a bottle on the big day, so that you too can have a bleu, bleu, bleu Christmas.
