The Nose Knows
It happened again the other day. Walking through a crowded store, I was brought up short as I passed through the trailing cloud of some passing woman's perfume.
In an instant I'm no longer amidst hundreds of shoppers in a crowded store. I'm now, for the duration of that fading aroma, surrounded by hundreds of kids in a high school gym, swaying to some slow song with my girlfriend in my arms. Probably Madonna's 'Crazy For You' or (even more likely) some POS ballad by Air Supply.
The briefest encounter of that particular floral/baby powder/honey scent was enough to toss me back in time 20 years, and bring an upwelling of memories, both good & bad, rushing to the surface. It's almost a palpable physical sensation. I never asked my girlfriend what the name of her perfume was. It just didn't seem that important at the time. Well, that may not really be the case. Knowing my tendency for juvenile knuckleheadedness in those years, I probably never thought to ask. Now, I'm tempted to follow my nose to the source, and politely ask the wearer what brand it is. I've never done that, though. I'd just do something pathetic like go get a tester sample from a department store and then have myself a memory trip every so often. It's better not to. I only catch a whiff of that particular perfume every other year or so, and the scarcity of encounters makes the ensuing memory rush that much more intense.
Research has determined that odors are passing through both your limbic system and cerebral cortex simultaneously, so you're in essence getting a double shot to your nervous system when the smell hits your nose. The limbic system is your inner "lizard brain", responsible for emotions and behavior, while your cerebral cortex is responsible for conscious thought. We get conditioned right at birth to respond to smells, and associate certain aromas with the good or bad emotional experiences that accompany the odor. As a result, odors can be used like index markers to your memories, enabling almost instant access to long-buried events.
Other aromas can send me leaping across the years, but not always for good reasons. I have psychic scars from the aroma of rotting peanut butter. At the summer camps I worked at, the peanut butter-filled serving bowls we served at every meal for the more finicky eaters were gathered off dinner tables and tossed in a large metal bucket prior to washing. One evening, one of the kitchen staffers gathered them all up into the bucket, then hit them with a dose of hot water to loosen up the sticky paste. He then set the bucket out back of the kitchen to soak. Naturally, they were forgotten. Upon discovery days later, I was detailed to salvage the dishes from the bubbling stinking mess. To this day, I have to wash off anything that's been touched with peanut butter with cold water, as even the slightest degree of warm peanut butter aroma causes my gag reflex to kick into high gear. If you're baking peanut butter cookies, I gotta leave the house. And don't even fry up an Elvis-style peanut butter & banana sandwich, or I'll hurl.
The chilled metal and compressor oil smell of an air conditioner takes me back to my grandmother's hotel in Florida. She was the general manager of a retirement hotel in Hollywood, Florida back in the 70's. There were always enough vacancies due to oldsters shuffling off the mortal coil that we had guaranteed lodgings for summer vacations. The rooms didn't have central air, but used those hotel-room style AC units mounted in the walls. I remember laying face down on top of the vent panel, soaking up all the cold air blowing out, and smelling that chilled air aroma. If you ever catch me with my face pressed up to an AC unit, well, I'm just reliving my youth.
I worked in a machine shop from 1987 to 1989, and the smells from there are very evocative. It was one of those jobs I didn't realize I loved until years later. For all my bitching about the job and the owners at the time, I learned more about life there than I realized, and in truth, was one of the best jobs a 19 year old college dropout could have had. I remember coming in on chilly winter mornings, and the big Warner-Swasey automatic screw machines and the smaller Davenports were already cranking out parts, and the guys running the turret lathes and Bridgeport mills were pumping out metal chips and smoke from the heated cutting oil. That smell of warm machinery, hot gear oil, burnt metal and the touch of Varsol solvent and cigarette smoke was very comforting for some reason. For me, it was the smell of productivity and industry. Now, decades later as I walk into my nice clean office in the morning, I sometimes go in the rear doors to the high-rise building and pass through the loading dock & employee smoking area just outside the physical plant. The same smells are there, hot gear oil, a hint of of ozone from the big generators and the combined smoke from 20 brands of cigarette. It's a good way to start the day.
Anyone else have a favorite/worst smell & memory?
In an instant I'm no longer amidst hundreds of shoppers in a crowded store. I'm now, for the duration of that fading aroma, surrounded by hundreds of kids in a high school gym, swaying to some slow song with my girlfriend in my arms. Probably Madonna's 'Crazy For You' or (even more likely) some POS ballad by Air Supply.
The briefest encounter of that particular floral/baby powder/honey scent was enough to toss me back in time 20 years, and bring an upwelling of memories, both good & bad, rushing to the surface. It's almost a palpable physical sensation. I never asked my girlfriend what the name of her perfume was. It just didn't seem that important at the time. Well, that may not really be the case. Knowing my tendency for juvenile knuckleheadedness in those years, I probably never thought to ask. Now, I'm tempted to follow my nose to the source, and politely ask the wearer what brand it is. I've never done that, though. I'd just do something pathetic like go get a tester sample from a department store and then have myself a memory trip every so often. It's better not to. I only catch a whiff of that particular perfume every other year or so, and the scarcity of encounters makes the ensuing memory rush that much more intense.
Research has determined that odors are passing through both your limbic system and cerebral cortex simultaneously, so you're in essence getting a double shot to your nervous system when the smell hits your nose. The limbic system is your inner "lizard brain", responsible for emotions and behavior, while your cerebral cortex is responsible for conscious thought. We get conditioned right at birth to respond to smells, and associate certain aromas with the good or bad emotional experiences that accompany the odor. As a result, odors can be used like index markers to your memories, enabling almost instant access to long-buried events.
Other aromas can send me leaping across the years, but not always for good reasons. I have psychic scars from the aroma of rotting peanut butter. At the summer camps I worked at, the peanut butter-filled serving bowls we served at every meal for the more finicky eaters were gathered off dinner tables and tossed in a large metal bucket prior to washing. One evening, one of the kitchen staffers gathered them all up into the bucket, then hit them with a dose of hot water to loosen up the sticky paste. He then set the bucket out back of the kitchen to soak. Naturally, they were forgotten. Upon discovery days later, I was detailed to salvage the dishes from the bubbling stinking mess. To this day, I have to wash off anything that's been touched with peanut butter with cold water, as even the slightest degree of warm peanut butter aroma causes my gag reflex to kick into high gear. If you're baking peanut butter cookies, I gotta leave the house. And don't even fry up an Elvis-style peanut butter & banana sandwich, or I'll hurl.
The chilled metal and compressor oil smell of an air conditioner takes me back to my grandmother's hotel in Florida. She was the general manager of a retirement hotel in Hollywood, Florida back in the 70's. There were always enough vacancies due to oldsters shuffling off the mortal coil that we had guaranteed lodgings for summer vacations. The rooms didn't have central air, but used those hotel-room style AC units mounted in the walls. I remember laying face down on top of the vent panel, soaking up all the cold air blowing out, and smelling that chilled air aroma. If you ever catch me with my face pressed up to an AC unit, well, I'm just reliving my youth.
I worked in a machine shop from 1987 to 1989, and the smells from there are very evocative. It was one of those jobs I didn't realize I loved until years later. For all my bitching about the job and the owners at the time, I learned more about life there than I realized, and in truth, was one of the best jobs a 19 year old college dropout could have had. I remember coming in on chilly winter mornings, and the big Warner-Swasey automatic screw machines and the smaller Davenports were already cranking out parts, and the guys running the turret lathes and Bridgeport mills were pumping out metal chips and smoke from the heated cutting oil. That smell of warm machinery, hot gear oil, burnt metal and the touch of Varsol solvent and cigarette smoke was very comforting for some reason. For me, it was the smell of productivity and industry. Now, decades later as I walk into my nice clean office in the morning, I sometimes go in the rear doors to the high-rise building and pass through the loading dock & employee smoking area just outside the physical plant. The same smells are there, hot gear oil, a hint of of ozone from the big generators and the combined smoke from 20 brands of cigarette. It's a good way to start the day.
Anyone else have a favorite/worst smell & memory?
posted by El Capitan | 3:29 PM
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