Scents and Scents-ability

My apologies to Jane Austen! I borrowed her famous novel title to introduce today's topic: smell. Smell (our olfactory system) is the sense most closely linked to memory. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that when we smell an old perfume, for example, we will associate that scent with a certain time (or person) in our lives.

Lately, I have been quite inspired by my sojourns through our lovely paseoes. All sorts of glorious plants have been releasing their essences, calling attention to themselves. Jasmine! Roses! Lavender! The bees and I are enjoying every minute of the wafting treasure trove. Of course, on the other side of the sniff spectrum, there is the trash can where all the dog walkers throw out their animal's excrement. I call that scent, "Eau de Poop." Admittedly, I am more of a fall and winter person who loves her hibernation. This year's profuse blossoms, however, (thanks to our abundance of rain!) have almost made me a convert to the glories of spring.

Today I am going to wax nostalgic and indulge in remembering some scents of bygone days -- even eras, if you will. For example, in the old days when I went to school, before xeroxes were prevalent, "dittos" were the gold standard of handouts. A ditto was a blurry, purple mess, but it had that just out of the glue factory smell. One could almost get high off an English worksheet. (Oh boy, homework!) I also dearly miss my prehistoric blue Smith Corona typewriter and its inky metallic aroma. That typewriter and I spent many long nights together in term paper hell! When the perfume, Obsession by Calvin Klein first came out, it was such a big hit one could smell it everywhere ("Ah, the smell of it!" was the infamous, erotic campaign slogan).

Cities bring with them a sensory overload. In my San Francisco college days, I remember the famous Cable Cars and their Barbary Coast burnt iron smell. Fisherman's Wharf with its open stalls for selling freshly caught crabs (need I say more?) and salty, cold ocean breezes. What college student couldn't smell a keg of beer from a mile away?

New York was a cornucopia of sights and smells for me. Some days in summer the smell of garbage on the street was...atrocious, to say the least. Also, before a summer rain storm the air would be heavy with the scent of rain about to burst. I lived in an apartment building that could have represented the United Nations. On my floor alone, I could smell Chinese, French, Indian and many unknown (scary!) foods at any given time. Not to mention the fish factory outside my bedroom window.

Everyone lives for that new car smell! Wine, ground coffee, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies (already mentioned in a previous post as my diet nemesis), the cheap colognes of girlhood (i.e. Charlie, Wind Song, Jean Nate), mom's cooking, our first dog's breath...yes, the list (good and bad!) goes on and on. It is easy to forget what a true pleasure, and a privilege this complex sense of ours is! In Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town, one of the main characters, Emily, has died, and as Emily looks back at her life she recounts the little things that she didn't appreciate while alive. She cites warm baths, food and coffee and says, "Do human beings realize life while they live it --every, every minute?"

Both my parents have passed away. My mother was allergic to perfume, so I cannot associate her with a scent in that way, unfortunately. She loved the smell of freshly cut grass and her favorite flower was a peony, however, and so I think of her always when I smell a newly mowed lawn or bury my nose in a soft peony center. My father used Old Spice shaving lotion...the list goes on and on. Food for thought: What legacy of scent will we leave behind for our children and/or loved ones?

A few years ago I was hospitalized for several days. Hospitals are here to make us better, but my senses were so keen then, that the medicinal smells were making me sick to my stomach. Then one day a physical therapist came to help me and she was wearing a lovely perfume. I remember thanking her over and over for the relief her scent brought me! Now whenever a friend of mine has to have an extended stay in a hospital (fortunately, that rarely happens) I advise them to bring along a favorite sachet.

Even right now, sitting at my dining room table, a gentle breeze is treating my olfactory system to a delightful whiff of orange blossoms. My orange tree is full of the delicious, fragrant flowers! Surely, spring is nature's way of saying "I love you, people!"

Next time I will write about our sense of hearing. I say this in a kind way, because my son has been practicing his electric guitar the whole time I have been writing this blog!