Smelliest City on the Planet. So says GQ magazine this week. The thing is, it's not a put-down. It's a love letter:
L.A., in fact, was anointed as the best-smelling metropolis in the world.
While the magazine dings Paris (No. 1 "worst-smelling" city) for the bad breath of its citizens, "repulsive odor that wafts from the RER train system," and "equally fresh smell of dog shit," it makes Los Angeles sound like Acqua Di Gio:
There's the ocean breeze from Santa Monica that can travel as far east as Silver Lake; a dry desert air that comes west over Downtown and South Central; the astringent balm of eucalyptus, pine, honeysuckle and jasmine from the hills; and car exhaust from catalytic converters, which is, in its strange industrial way, beautiful. It's like the jolt of a drug: shifting, comforting, cool like a blanket.
And immigrant-haters say L.A. is turning into Mexico City. All those AM radio "John & Ken Show" fans should self-deport to Paris and take a huge whiff.
Turns out Los Angeles is the smell-good movie of the year!
Then again, has GQ ever been around a bacon-wrapped hot-dog cart outside a club on a Saturday night?
Not exactly Chanel No. 5.
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