Inspiration Up the Nose

We rely upon our noses every day, some days or nights more than others. Sometimes, it’s for survival. Remember the potential dating material (guys or girls) that looked so attractive, until they moved into your nose zone? My worst recall (from decades ago) involved stale bologna or some unidentifiable meat-like substance. Some odors never leave the mind, no matter where or when they enter it.

Ambient scents play a large role in our society; they influence purchases and impact our impressions on places, stores, medical offices, people, events, or objects. I’ve read that some people choose their cars based on the interior’s aroma. I guess that leaves my minivan off the market for the rest of its life; the teal beast holds the fragrance of a dozen years’ worth of kid living, baby goop from either end, camping, sweaty soccer gear, dog dirt and dander, spilled or shaken brown or orange sodas, and crumbs from every conceivable packaged snack found in gas stations in the middle of No Where. Super powered vacuums can’t suck hard enough; Febreze and Lysol aren’t strong enough to cover or kill the unidentifiable life that remains.

Yes, the van has been cleaned; no, I’m not a slob. The van is paid for, and it has been for years. I will drive it until I smell its impending death, which will most likely occur on the 75-mile-per-hour stretch of freeway between my house and my folks’ house, a stretch with few places to pullover. (Murphy’s Law.) If it explodes, I’ll jump out the window with one kid in each arm. (Big window.) If my kids pass me in height before the van croaks, then they’ll toss me out the window. Since I drive above the speed limit on a regular basis, I have a good chance of a well-planned trajectory.

Every person has a “smell fingerprint”; and an average person can recognize about 10,000 different odors, according to the Sense of Smell Institute. I wonder what I smell like to others. No one in cyberspace could know that one. But I guess everyone could imagine another writer’s natural body fragrance. Certain ointments that I’ve smelled on elderly people remind me of being with my grandmother when I was a child. But bakery aromas, especially those with poppy seed fillings from kolache or makovnik to others, carry me back to Nana Rose’s kitchen, a place where I can almost feel the heat rise from her coal stove. Maybe the nose is the place where déjà vu began.

I haven’t a clue what I smell like, since I’m with me all the time. But I know I don’t smell like my van, my dogs, or my kids. That’s a good start, right? So, if I work my way deductively through the remaining 9,997 different odors I should be able to recognize (if I’m average), then I’ll narrow myself down to one.

(This blog began as a way to start a story from scent-filled memories. There’s a story in here, somewhere.)

Sue Donckels, Managing Editor

 

Comments

[Kaui Hemmings]

I love when authors use their nose. In books using scent to articulate a person, place or thing is so revealing, sometimes more than a physical description!

[Sue Donckels]

That's hilarious, Veronica! Thanks for that...;)

[Veronica]

lol! My sister complained the other day I didn't get online early enough. I told her, hey I had to shower. She said, I can't smell you through the computer.