Once in awhile, I get that email warning me about people who might approach me in a parking lot and try to get me to smell some perfume, which will in actuality be ether, at which point I will swoon into the arms of the miscreants, who will relieve me of my worldly goods. I hope that the story is false, and that this hasn't happened to anyone, but isn't there something a bit charming about the method? I mean... ether? Sounds pleasingly old-timey to me. I think it even qualifies as a caper.

Speaking of old-timey things, I went to a bar last night (Vessel, which otherwise resembled a 1980s coke mansion) where they serve a number of drinks from antique recipes, of which I highly approve. Offerings include several 19th-century concoctions such as Pimm's Cup and Morning Glory (avec absinthe!). Modern tastes aside, I think there is something intrinsically valuable about tasting something from the past. But if a stranger creeps up on you and insists that you sniff a little Shalimar or Chanel No. 5, don't do it! Unless, of course, she's a diamond-encrusted dowager.