Scratch and Sniff - The Nose Knows.
They say smell is the most evocative of the senses – the one which above all others has the power to transport us back to another place or time, to relive a memory or a trauma.
We all have favourite smells – real bread baking, freshly-cut grass, a favourite perfume - but there are some which do so much more than just please the senses. I was thinking about this on my walk this morning, and came up with four which get me every time.
1. Summer. The smell of the hot concrete surrounding a swimming pool instantly takes me back to a childhood when I lay shivering after a swim, soaking up the warmth like a basking lizard. I can see the tiny, coloured grains of sand in the mix, with my nose almost pressed to its surface. It’s a pungent mix of chlorine, sweat and summer, from a time when we knew nothing of melanomas, and baked ourselves in blissful ignorance.
2. Trains. I travel by train rarely here, but when I do and find myself in one of Melbourne’s underground Loop stations, one sniff is all it takes and I’m in London again. It’s a mixture of hot brakes and bad air conditioning, old chips and musty tunnels. The feeling of transplantation is so strong I’m almost surprised to see the big Connex train arriving instead of those little Noddy carriages, squat and curved to fit the old tunnels.
3. Paint. The smell of turpentine and linseed oil puts me in my father’s studio as a child, being told not to touch anything. The paint was always too wet, the stereo too delicate and the floor too full of canvasses vulnerable to clumsy feet. The forbidden nature of the room of course added to its attractions, but I never stayed long.
4. Babies. When I hold a breast-fed baby (yes, I can smell the difference), I’m a new mother again, with the warmth, the nuzzling and the sounds of new life, but also the feeling of utter bewilderment that suddenly I was responsible for the care and safety of this little person for longer into the future than I could contemplate. I loved having my babies, but it’s quite a relief knowing I can hand any I cuddle these days back to their parents.
We all have favourite smells – real bread baking, freshly-cut grass, a favourite perfume - but there are some which do so much more than just please the senses. I was thinking about this on my walk this morning, and came up with four which get me every time.
1. Summer. The smell of the hot concrete surrounding a swimming pool instantly takes me back to a childhood when I lay shivering after a swim, soaking up the warmth like a basking lizard. I can see the tiny, coloured grains of sand in the mix, with my nose almost pressed to its surface. It’s a pungent mix of chlorine, sweat and summer, from a time when we knew nothing of melanomas, and baked ourselves in blissful ignorance.
2. Trains. I travel by train rarely here, but when I do and find myself in one of Melbourne’s underground Loop stations, one sniff is all it takes and I’m in London again. It’s a mixture of hot brakes and bad air conditioning, old chips and musty tunnels. The feeling of transplantation is so strong I’m almost surprised to see the big Connex train arriving instead of those little Noddy carriages, squat and curved to fit the old tunnels.
3. Paint. The smell of turpentine and linseed oil puts me in my father’s studio as a child, being told not to touch anything. The paint was always too wet, the stereo too delicate and the floor too full of canvasses vulnerable to clumsy feet. The forbidden nature of the room of course added to its attractions, but I never stayed long.
4. Babies. When I hold a breast-fed baby (yes, I can smell the difference), I’m a new mother again, with the warmth, the nuzzling and the sounds of new life, but also the feeling of utter bewilderment that suddenly I was responsible for the care and safety of this little person for longer into the future than I could contemplate. I loved having my babies, but it’s quite a relief knowing I can hand any I cuddle these days back to their parents.
So - what does it for you?
posted by MargieCM at 11:17 am
18 Comments:
The smell of freshly baked bread. We have a bread factory just to the southwest, and there are days when the smell wafts over to the school and just makes me wish I could have a croissant right then and there.
I also love the smell of the water- lakes, oceans, they just get to me. I also love the smell after a summer thunderstorm.
xx
AM
Margie, your right smells do evoke memories..
I love the smell of new paint, that takes me back to christmas as a child as mam would always decorate the house in time for christmas, also I love the smell of Diesel, it reminds me of the old steam trains that ran nearby and the fairground when I was a kid I hung out there alot infact I bunked off school to be near them as much as I could, which got me in trouble..also Neil smells of Diesel when he comes home from work..yum..
when my mam died I missed her smell and even now if i'm scared or down, I sniff my raggity old teddy, he is 40years old but I swear I can find traces of home on him like home baking (mam did alot of home cooking, cakes pies etc..) and the washing powder she used..strange..
I love the smell of babys, Harvey always smells so fresh and of baby powder..lovely..
Oh yes and rotten forrests have a certain charming smell..
I keep old perfume bottles and one sniff and i'm transported back to that time or person who gave me it..
My strangest experience about smell came when I was walking the hills of Bergen, Norway. This area has the exact same flora as the Laurentian Mountains of Canada. So, when I went for a walk there after being away from home for over a year, the smell of the forest (along with the wind sound in the trees) made me think I was only a mile (or 2.2 kms) away from our family home there.
My strongest nasal memory comes at Christmas. We have a tradition of creating a frothy soap (ivory snow) foam and putting it on our Christmas tree. It hardens nicely and looks like freshly fallen snow. Somehow it'll never feel exactly like Christmas without that clean and soapy smell.
Yes, yes this is what I mean! Anne Marie, Gypsy and Lesley you've come up with a wonderful collection.
Gypsy - I got quite emotional when I read what you wrote about your Mam. I especially love the image of you burying your face in your teddy and bringing it all back. Funny - my youngest daughter was only seven when my Mum died, but she says she sees her the minute she smells thyme. Mum had masses of it in her garden.
Lesley, I know what you mean about the smell of the forest transporting you. A few years ago when we'd been in Europe for six weeks and it was almost time to go home, we went to Kew gardens and I found a gum tree - an Australian eucalypt. I crushed up one of the leaves and took a good long sniff, and knew I was ready to go home.
Lovely, all of you! (Even the diesel).
What a great thread, I only wish my nose wasn't so.. uhm.. *dead*. I can barely smell anything, but there are times I can, and so some of what you've all mentioned are vaguely familiar to me.
I've smelled wisps of baking bread, diesel, paint, perfume, babies, flowers, even the ivory snow soap Iannio! But because they are so fleeting, there are no memories attached. Well wait, maybe a few, the smell of pine at Christmas when the tree is finally decorated, the lights are lit, the snow is falling outside, and dressed in new footie pajamas, we waited for the sounds of hoofs on the roof....
~Lace~
OOh, another strange thing Margie, when my ex hubs father died, the day he died I was peeling some potatoes and a waft of his aftershave went passed my nose and I just knew he was passing through to say goodbye..
Gypsy reminded me that, after my father died, I asked his wife if I could have one of his flannel shirts. Even now, more than six years later, when I want to "feel" him close to me, I bring the flannel shirt to my nose and he comes back to me. It's so him.
Oh, and on a somewhat related note, I can't bear the smell of lilies. They are, for me, the flowers of funerals and I can't stay around them for too long- they make me upset.
for me,
The smell of fresh brewed coffee,the way the gardens smell in summer after a cool change has swept through..the rain seems to revive everything. The smell of horses and hay..the aroma of barbeques in the air (a big reminder of summer) and Tweed perfume-that was my Mums favourite..incedently my Mums cousin was the model on the Tweed ads in Australia through the late 70's and early 80's!
When I stayed in Glasgow in 1999 at my friends house they lived near a local whiskey distillery. Their apartment was on the top floor and over looked a park. we would sit in the living room in the afternoons with the windows open. drinking,smoking and chatting. It was not a very pleasant odour but the smell from the distillery sure made it clear to me that I was in scotland!
Neans
Maegie, I have to do this wonderful post justice, so will be back in the morning as it's now 1.10 a.m and I've just come home from a Crowded House concert which was phenomenal. Still have to do a post about that, so I will be back very soon. Promise, specially as my brain's decided to come home...oh, AND I've finished Tollbooth, and loved it completely. What a precious book!
14 I was and I saved all my pocket money for months to but the Sex Pistols album ‘Never Mind The Bollocks’. It's one of the first occasions I really remember the smell of vinyl records, and ever since the smell of vinyl is extremely nostalgic for me. My father had a radiogram - like a piece of furniture it was, eight feet long with a lid that revealed the turn table. I would put the record on, turn the balance to one speaker, volume real low, and crouch beside the speaker listening to the 'rude' songs secretively. It's amazing to me how diluted punk has become in those thirty years and odd to see Johnny Rotten trooping out the lads for a thirty-year anniversary money making gimmick. Bless him, I still love him. Music's never been the same since they took the smell away.
Smells I have got wrong: When I first arrived in the United States, I loved the strangely dark tart aroma of the forests when all of a sudden it seemed to be very strong; I expected it had something to do with how the wind blew. I mentioned it to a Canadian guy in the car once about how I loved it. “That’s a skunk,” he said; we didn’t have them in Ireland.
In 1979 I went to a concert and was chuffed to be hanging out with the guitarist of the band. He had the most amazing biker jacket I had ever seen with the most amazing leather smell ever to invade my nose. I found out later that the ‘leather’ smell I ‘loved’ was in fact, Brut 33 aftershave. "Splash it all over," the ad used to say.
I still have to come back and do this properly, but...the smell of Africa. That really does it for me: warm, spicy, acrid and dusty. It reminds me of stepping off the plane for the first time in Jo'burg and being assailed by this new and alien smell. I loved it. Still do. Can't wait to smell it again soon.
??
You were once a baking lizard?
--Dan L.
Oooops Marige (hehe) I've given you another new name - Maegie. I think on balance I prefer Marige!
This work thing certainly gets in the way of blogdom. Thankyou all for your fabulous comments in my absence.
Lace, you poor thing! I know a woman who has a similar problem - she lost her sense of smell completely after a really bad bout of flu. On the positive side though, you at least appreciate what does come to your nose. Thank goodness for the powerful childhood memories of Christmas, eh?
Gyps, I loved your story about your ex father-in-law. You must have had a very special bond.
Anne Marie, that's lovely about the flannel shirt. I used to get the same way with the perfume my mother wore - a Givenchy one. They don't make it any more, and I miss the smell terribly. I know what you mean about the lilies. They also have a quite cloying smell I don't especially like.
Neans, while we're on perfume, I remember Tweed well, and the ad too! So you have a similar thing with your mum - that's lovely. I recognised all your favourite smells - I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because we grew up so close to each other (with a few years in between!). They're all goodies. Haven't smelt a distillery though - that's a great memory. Btw - did you get the email I sent on Monday? I was trying to get my act together and talk dates to catch up. Everything's a tad pear-shaped at the moment, and today's just been hijacked by an unplanned visit to the doctors and x-ray clinic (Sophie's wrist vs volleyball; volleyball won), but let me know if you're still up for it some time. Next week's a nightmare, but even in nightmares there are possibilities ...
Vally, I'm about to go over to yours and see if you've posted about Crowded House yet. I love that band! I didn't even know they were touring together again. So glad you loved Tollbooth - I just finished re-reading it too. It IS special, isn't it?
Ah Paul, I too am a fan of the Pistols (and the smell of vinyl), and have fond memories of a very po-faced guest at a birthday party I was at in about 1979-80 turning off the stereo when we were all "singing" along to "Frigging in the Rigging" at volume. He had to make a quick getaway I can tell you. What a great quote: "Music's never been the same since they took the smell away". Brilliant.
Loved your skunk story. Come to think of it, I wouldn't know what a skunk smelt like either. I do, on the other hand, know Brut 33 and leather. I prefer leather.
btw - we now have "Aren't you wearing Tweed?" and "Splash it all over" in the same lot of comments. Very fragro-retro!
Val, back again and in South Africa. I think I almost smelt that reading "African ways". Really. I hope when you go back the smell is just as you remember it.
Dan, yes I jolly well was. And am. These days though, I use sunscreen and cover up. I just love the feel of the sun, and I get cold easily. My family is convinced I'm a reptile of some sort anyway.
And finally (phew!), I think if Marige is my elderly, Pernod-soaked French courtesan persona, then Maegie might be mystically Celtic and possibly a little fey. I am now officially collecting new monikers from you Vally, and shall develop a new personality for each one. (So be careful what you type!)
M - I just read your comment on my blog. You must let Anne Marie and myself know about your daughter's visit to Canada. If she comes to Toronto, we can perhaps see her or even meet her. It would be a pity if there wasn't some kind of connection.
I know Margie, I do, even if it does just come in small whiffs. Sometimes I am suddenly surprised by the smell of a flower on the breeze, and then I say, *oooo some people experience this all the time*?
On the other upside, the garbage doesn't bother me much at all! :P
~Lace~
I love many scents/smells, the scent of the fallen maple leaves for one, but the smell that does it for me is the one in the hallway of the building I live in when I come back here after a long while. It reminds me of the visits to my late grandmother who lived here, when I was small. I love those visits above everything...
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