I’m an eternal beginner both in tennis and to the world of fragrance. I like to spritz and schvitz in equal measure. But I appreciate being included in the sporty thing as long as I’m under no pressure to do the thing.
Instead of paying attention during summer camp lessons, I wondered about our instructors and what was going on in their lives to cause them to take my lack of hustle so personally. I learned quickly that tennis was a hot and sweaty business that required discipline. But I was a dreamer, not a driller. I was prone to sun poisoning and hurt feelings. I was happiest when I was rotated out so I could sit in the shade and lovingly wrap and rewrap my racquet handle with satisfyingly smooth black grip tape.
The other campers were focused and driven; I was romantic and moody. They wanted to play well; I wanted to smell good. I could never be like those people. So why would I want to smell like them?