The other day, the unthinkable happened. I was at a perfume shop, chatting with a sales assistant who at one point asked me to smell the wrist of her male colleague. I walked over to him, took a few sniffs and jerked my head back in surprise.
"What?" I said, "but... it can't be!"
"It is," she said.
I smelled again, utterly unable to comprehend why the pit of my stomach wasn't threatening to turn itself inside out with revulsion. "Is it really?" I asked.
"Yes. Sécrétions Magnifiques."
"No way!" I smelled again, and sure enough, that instantly recognisable metallic wrongness was easy to discern, but it was backed by a light, gentle floral note that somehow made the whole thing perfectly pleasant. I looked up at the wrist's owner. "Well done! I didn't think anyone would ever be able to pull that off. But it really works on you."
"Thank you," he said, smiling. "I like it too."
So there you go: don't ever let anyone tell you that individual body chemistry is irrelevant!