Seahorse Vintage Avon Perfume Bottle

The Seahorse – Postcards from New York #1

It smells of buxom, boisterous women: bosoms tumbling from man-made fabric folds, galloping towards a finish line somewhere far beyond the dawn. Cigarettes and Cinzano; short chubby fingers climbing an inner thigh, a sharp song of painted fingernails played upon an unsuspecting penis; stale breath, body odour and warm whispers, a bed of roses and cackled laughter.

I put the seahorse’s chiselled chrome head back on its glass body; the buxom, boisterous women disappear into the bottle and I find myself in the East Village standing in the rain. I know that I need to buy this perfume bottle and learn, in time, to exact some control over its contents, maybe even harness its power.

A tall black man stands on the kerbside, keeping watch over the table of curiosities and keepsakes. Sensing my interest, he indicates that I need to walk down a few doors where I will find the owner in her shop.

‘I’m interested in the vintage seahorse perfume bottle,’ I tell her.

She nods.

‘He’s that man,’ she thinks, looking me up and down.

For the next five minutes, she attempts to sell me a suede waistcoat with elaborate fringing. She fails to realise that the seahorse comes first, and then, when I’m truly ready, the waistcoat.

Vintage Perfume Bottle New York Seahorse

One thought on “The Seahorse – Postcards from New York #1

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