We’ve already established that the vast majority of North Americans are melting this week, yes? We’ve mentioned how the heat makes us tired, and frizzy (or flat), and keeps us from cooking, too. Have we talked about the how it effects smells?
Because good jeebus gawd on a garbage truck, if you haven’t thought about it, all I can say is that you clearly don’t live in NYC, which is truly funktacular this time of year. (Another reason to stay inside).
Heat’s effect on smells is another reason I really really really don’t care for summer. I love smells. My nose is pretty finely tuned organ. I can pick out all those top notes and base notes in perfumes, and spend blissful moments huffing meals before I ever take a bite. I love how my nose works like a memory box/time machine for me. Smell is actually my favorite sense–the one that I would cleave to over any other: even sight! (Really? Really.) And summer makes me resent my wonderful, sensitive schnozz.
Trash. Rot. Three-day-old BO. Ugh. I’m desperate for fall, when harvest smells come, and leaves burn, and the air cools and takes on a sharpness in your nose. And when I can cook and bake to my heart’s content and breathe, and breathe, and breathe.
Identifying my favorite smell is difficult–there are too many!–but among them: freshly baked bread, the sea, my Dude’s body, jasmine, rosemary, the air after rain, and a scent that I’ve only ever identified as “October,” which is a blend of all the good stuff the previous paragraph, and then some. My least favorites are easier to pinpoint: spoiled meat, cat pee, and roses. Yes, roses. Barf.
So, obviously, today’s FFT is about your most and/or least beloved scents, aromas, odors, or funks. Breathe deep. And read this cool article about using smell as a new way of understanding history.