Meet the New Boss

So, the Baron periodically gets a glossy advert magazine from his favored habadashery.

Shockingly, he has never actually seen it, as it is alway intercepted : yeah, come get me, Canada Post - I'm stealing my husband's mail.

In this year's Spring edition, there was a fabulous campaign for Hugo Boss. The locale looked warm and inviting [I want to go to there], the photo itself had great composition, the young men were shiny and well-groomed. You just know looking at them that they smell like yummy Aqua Di Parma. Behold:

(OK, for all I know, dude on the right has a severed head in his man purse. This is beside my point).

You have to agree - this image brings forth sunny happy thoughts. It is, most assuredly, evocative.

And then I remembered another evocative ad campaign. Remember here, evocative can be soul-stirring good, or it can be this:

I cannot even begin to count the ways that this ad makes me never want to be in a 5 mile radius of anyone wearing Emporio Armani cologne. It screams both skank and stank.

What crackhead did the styling for this? Because to my mind, this 'designer' scent as portrayed by its raffish actor/model can only smell like the inside of a freight train fraught with hobos: wet wool, yellow nicotine fingers, Mateus breath and a slightly saucy faint urine aroma.

Ack.

There is a reason that Hugo has his last name.

Ciao, Georgio.