The Prince is Gone
I didn't pay much attention to Prince while he was alive, but I liked him. Only on the day of his death did I download all his songs and rent a copy of the movie for which he earned an Oscar, Purple Rain. I knew his hits, though. You couldn't miss them, but I never became a real fan, like I was of Michael Jackson. There was something unsettling about Prince, to me. It wasn't that he was a thoroughly heterosexual yet feminine man. To each his own is my philosophy. It was his retiring nature, a kind of reticence beneath the bizarre exterior, yet plainly (to me) boiling through it--power. I guess the same could be said of Michael, but Prince felt alien. Michael didn't. I sensed Prince had a story, though. In my mind I gave him credit for surviving whatever it was, gave him a silent salute when he appeared on my TV screen, and wished him well. I never really understood his art. Everyone says he was a musical genius. He could play any instrument put in front of him, produced his own tracks. I didn't pay attention to his perfume when it arrived, either. I sprayed it on, found it pleasant, then ignored it. 3121 is also the name of his 31st album, released on March 21, 2006. I tried to download the song, 3121, but like him, it's not available to us anymore (on iTunes anyway). As for the perfume, what's not to like about a well-done Bergamot-floral top, lovely florals in the center, and a woody-musky base? The box it comes in is artfully weird, but not the scent. From what I've heard in the memorials, this parallels the man. Outlandish on the outside, but within, a pretty nice guy. Bye, Prince. I'll wear your perfume sometimes.