I'm sure everyone knows that our sense of smell is closely linked with memory, perhaps more so than any other sense. A scent can instantly transport us to a time or place that evokes a vital memory or person. I can't count the times I have stopped when a smell, seemingly out of nowhere, wafted by and recalled a memory.
I don't know the origin of my fascination and love of fragrances. My first recollection is from high school, where everyone seemed (at least in my circles) to have (both men and women) a signature fragrance they wore. Classmates went to great lengths to find just the right one for them. More often than not, they (we) went with the Mae West quote for guidance, “If a little is great, and a lot is better, then way too much is just about right.”
Later in life, in my mid-20s, I began working in the garden center business, where flowers and fragrance often went hand in hand. There were lilacs, roses, gardenia, and fragrant viburnum, to name a few, so I became more aware of fragrances through these plants. It threw open a door, drawing me deeper into the world of scents.
When my two daughters were younger, we would visit one of the local malls, visit specialty stores featuring fragrances, and search for a favorite. The ride home, as you can imagine, would be overwhelming, as the samples we chose would be super concentrated in the confines of the car.
I recall an interview that stuck with me about a man who was the official nose for a fragrance company. When interviewed, he said he needed to experience a range of smells to keep his sense of smell (nose) fine-tuned. He said that even cigarette smoke helped him develop his special gift! As a youngster, I remember riding home in the backseat of our parent’s car on summer evenings, half asleep, the windows rolled down, and the country air saturated with sweet smells and abundant life. Often, in the mix would be the faint odor of a skunk, which I liked. Maybe I should have worked for a fragrance company.
Some time ago, I contacted a plant friend to ask for his help in identifying a plant I had discovered. I sent photos and a description. When he responded, he first said (in his best Southern accent), “Did you smell it?” Of course, I got a big laugh out of it, and from that point on, I always smelled a plant to see if it could help with identification.
I continue my fascination with fragrances; I'm happy that my 70-year-old nose still works. Recently, I stumbled upon a company called Future Society wearefuturesociety.com that has created a line of fragrances based upon extinct flowers from the Harvard Herbarium by sequencing their DNA! I ordered a sample pack with six little vials to try out, and all I can say is, WOW! They are so intriguing, unlike most any I have ever smelled. Our family has so much fun experiencing these rare, brought-back-from-dead fragrances from extinct plants. We all have picked out our favorites and are now sharing the experience with our friends.
Most recently, one of my daughters attended a wedding in Scotland and spent some in the perfume house Penhaligon www.penhaligon.com, sampling the many offerings. It was such a great experience, and she (of course) brought back samples for the family to try out. I'd love to visit Scotland someday and will make sure I visit Penhaligon.
Do you have a favorite fragrance? Does a particular smell remind you of an essential time in your life?
One of my favourite scents is that of lime (linden) trees, which bloom for a couple of weeks at this time of year in Scotland.
I lived in Malawi for a couple of years in the early 1990s and I have a beach wrap that still even now smells of the beach of Lake Malawi.
Peace is my all time favorite rose scent. I love jasmine. I am so super sensitive to scents that I can’t even go into Bed, Bath and Beyond and places like that. Both my sister and I inherited our “nose like a bloodhound” from our mother. Cary and Logan were barred from cologne. Me not wearing it is a given. I have to smell his shampoo and deodorant before he buys it. Which means I have to buy it. Now that they add horribly invasive scents to EVERYTHING these days, it has become a disability. It makes my head sick. Only candles I can tolerate are certain balsam ones at Christmas.
As far as the smell of a skunk, I tend to agree with you. It actually smells like Starbucks coffee to both my sister and I. I think in is the strength of the scent that is so bad.
Enjoy your writings! They are the only ones I read on substack. They wear you out with them.