He’s coming home.
It was a long war.
He’ll be amorous…starved for your womanhood.
You have 14 days to prepare your body for his pleasure…
You begin by summoning your maid of the wardrobe. You instruct her to prepare your most alluring evening gown for presentation. She is to cleanse, repair, and otherwise make perfect this welcoming garment you shall wear on the night of your husband’s return. Matching slippers must be constructed, decorated, and the bottoms covered with suede so that you glide silently as an angel into his arms.
Next, you send for your ladies in waiting. You instruct them to prepare the most lovely of your hair adornments. Combs must be checked for splintering or broken teeth, loose pearls & gems must be reattached and made to gleam. Clips must be freshly gilded in gold, and silk ribbons must be cleansed, velvet ones, steamed and brushed.
You then summon your maid of the bath. You grant her the next 2 weeks off. She won’t be needed. For, your body must begin its miasmal descent, per the usual letters your husband sends to you before returning home from his travels:
“I will return to Paris in  days time. Stop washing.”
And so you do.
For you are Josephine, Empress of France, wife of Napoleon Bonaparte I – Emperor of France. And, as you well know, your husband the Emperor prefers coitus with you when your scent is at its most pungent.
The miasma of your unbathed womanhood hypnotizes him like a sorcerer’s pendulum. One whiff of your erotic, grotty vapor causes his manly staff to stiffen and stab uncontrollably. In turn, the joyous high you receive is less from his frenzied plunging than from an exalted feeling of the power of your unwashed crevice…
Yes, I know.
Screech it with me.
But guess what? Some guys like it dirty.
Many a medieval love letter has been unearthed in which gents rhapsodize about the “odour” of their lady’s not-so-sweet honey pot. And, for 200 years following the Black Plaque – during which Europeans believed water to be unsanitary & full-body immersion into baths, dangerous – those medieval honey pots remained unwashed for the most part.
Which, it seems, was exactly the way their medieval gents liked it.
What with all the sanitizing we modern day women do down there…well, let’s just say we’d never be able to hypnotize a medieval gent with our squeaky-clean poonanies.
Homecomings aside, Empress Josephine didn’t reek as a rule. In fact, she & Napoleon engaged in long baths together quite often.
Because, unlike poor medieval peasants who bathed only a few times a year, royals & the noble classes had servants to fetch, heat, and prepare baths for them as often as they pleased.
Now, if you’re under the impression that Napoleon’s preference for pungent poonany smells like medieval madness…you’d better take another whiff.
Because, as it turns out, this medieval nasty is not so medieval at all.
And that I undress in these Foreign Eyes Friday posts:
But be prepared to hold you nose to read this prose!
It was a nasty past-y!
What say ye about malodorous medieval miasma?
Nasty or natural?