I adored my grandad and followed him anywhere he would let me. I loved his smell - bay rum cologne and cherry pipe tobacco. Every Sat morning, we went to the feed store, and the combined effluvia od feed store - grain seed, fertilizer, paint, oiled machinery, eau de farm animal coming from the jackets of the patrons, etc., instantly conjures up those Sat mornings.
My parents always had a fancy Christmas party at our home. It was the era wheN matrons wore real fur and Estee Lauder Youth Dew perfume. When the guests had all arrived and the fur coats were all laid out on my parents’ bed, I would sneak in and burrow down in all those soft furs smelling of Youth Dew.
Actual scents: My mother - Chanel #5; my dad - Creed Green Irish Tweed; my grandmother’s wore Lucien LeLong’s Sirocco and Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleu.
And of course I am old enough to remember the wonderful smell of burning leaves.
My paternal grandfather died when I was only about six or eight years old. Nearly the only memory I have of him is the smell of hot wiring, from the homemade model train layout in his basement.
I have many fond memories of my maternal grandmother. But a disproportionate amount of them involve the smell of apple cider vinegar. She was an amazing cook, and used it in many of her recipes.
I hope to continue forming memories of my mother for a good long time yet. But I strongly associate the smell of tomato plants with her, because she’s always been an avid gardener.
In my twenties and thirties (ages ago) I always had both of those in my office. Co-workers would stop in just to open a can of Play-doh and inhale with their eyes closed. Those smells were always good memories for everyone.
Of all senses, smell brings the strongest memories for me.
Tickle antiperspirant and Shower to Shower powder smells like my sister, Pierre Cardin and newly mowed grass smells like my brother.
This is going to sound odd, but as I get older, I get nostalgic at the scent of dairy farms. My sons’ soccer park is right by a farm. Every once in a while, the wind shifts, my nose fills up with eau de cow manure. While the kids are all grossed out, I’m suddenly ten years old, at my Grandpa’s and going across the street to Uncle Art’s to see my cousins.
Sweet Honesty will always remind me of my very first make-out session. I can no longer find Sweet Honesty in the wild but someone who knows my history gave me some Bath and Bodywash Pink Chiffon and that so very much reminded me of that momentous occasion.
I understand they don’t make Pink Chiffon anymore. Too many young girls making out, I guess. Or old ladies remembering it.
Every Walgreens I have been in, anywhere, has always had the same distinctive smell. They have managed this for over half a century. Every time I go to pick up a prescription I’m back shopping downtown with my grandmother. (that store is still there).
There is a perfume. I’ve never determined what it is but it can’t be expensive or rare (although it’s been many years since I have come across it’s fragrance). One whiff and I am back in elementary school. Must have been worn by one of my teachers.
Bamboo… The slide rule I had in high school and first years of college. I still have it and occasionally pull it out of it’s case for a good sniff. Puts me right back in high school physics class.
For me music can have the same effect. The right song comes on the radio and I am momentarily swept back to events of the time. For example, the opening base guitar line of Spirit in the Sky and I am back in the 9th grade.
Hey Jude… my first slow dance.
Halloween candy - it’s not any one candy, but the aggregate smell of the different kinds.
Cow manure - Like Maus Magill, memories of a farm.
Jovan White Musk -first serious girlfriend … :rolleyes:
Persian Wood perfume - my mother’s usual scent.
I guess I’m weird, but no, I can’t think of any.
There are many smells I like, and I can identify, but they don’t whisk me back in time.
Reading everyone else’s reminiscing evokes memories, but there’s no sensory connections.
When I was growing up, there was a sugar beet processing plant about a mile away from our home. Processing started on about September 1 every year. It lasted for about 7 or 8 weeks and created a very distinct and pleasant smell in the air. I associated the smell with the onset of cooler days and the beginning of school. The smell meant that summer vacation was over.
The plant closed when I was in 9th or 10th grade. I didn’t realize how powerful the smell memory was until a number of years later when I was driving past another processing plant in North Dakota. The smell immediately took me back to my childhood and the resulting feelings of melancholy and excitement that I associated with the seasonal changes in temperature and routine.
Creosote takes me down to the Atlantic City boardwalk in summer, and the smell of a freshly opened box of tea takes me back to the family summer house there…
I grew up on a Northern Illinois dairy farm. The cows stayed in the barn in the winter and I remember dad feeding them silage topped with molasses. I am transported back every time I open a bottle of molasses…I love it.
