The Nose Knows

ok keep in mind this is a rough draft...i havent really edited it yet, and ive got a headache so it probably wont be edited for a while. but i really like this one, and i hope you do too!!! Random, every day experiences trigger memories. A small phrase recalls an “inside joke,” a brief noise suggests a funny time, and “a picture is worth a thousand words.” All of these have ways of transferring us to a different time and place, and causing us to relive memorable events. But a simple photograph does not reincarnate anything for me; scent is my strongest memory trigger. Simply smelling a certain aroma causes various memories to float into my head, and the smell of certain colognes and perfumes brings back adventures and experiences I hope I never forget. My father’s parents live in Alabama on the beach. The first thing I do when we arrive at their twelfth floor condominium is run to the balcony and breath in the salty air. Smelling the ocean clears my head. It sweeps away momentary problems and relaxes my mind. Gliding over the ocean on my grandfather’s Damn Boat forces the salty air into my nose and spreads a smile across my face. The smell of the ocean is the scent of summer. It is constant— always salty and thick, warm, but cold and moist at the same time. No matter how much I change, how much I grow up, or how much I learn, the smell of the ocean is always the same, waiting for me summer after summer. The salty tanginess of the ocean reminds me that no matter what happens, my family always has Alabama. And if just for a week, we are as calm and relaxed as the ocean on a sunny summer day. My Grandmother Joan, my mother’s mother, lives in a 150 year old house in the city of Quincy, Illinois. It is the picturesque “Grandma’s House,” and literally “over the river and through the woods.” The smell of my grandmother’s house is unique— musty and tainted with history. It smells of a roast slow cooking in a crock pot, and double chocolate brownies baking in the oven; corned beef cooking on the stove, and bread toasting in an old toaster. The air is clouded with the scents of my family—the various perfumes of my cousins and me, the hairspray from my mother, and the different deodorants of my father and uncles. The culmination of these scents creates the unique atmosphere of my grandmother’s house. Each scent separately is nothing spectacular, but when combined they create the powerful ambience of my grandmother’s house. Nothing describes my grandmother’s house as well as the overwhelming scent of the mixture that is my family. Two years ago I began high school. The summer of 2002 introduced me to high school cheerleading, and three new girls I would be spending the next four years with. Caroline, Megan, Ashley and I had cheered for Assumption, and took on the challenge of teaching Laura, Lisa, and Natalie all that came with the pom-poms. Summer cheerleading camp at Stephen’s College taught us new skills, difficult cheers, and a love for the Victoria Secret perfume, Lovespell. Lovespell was (and still is) the scent of cheerleading. I do not remember who had it first, but I remember everyone wanted it. By the end of the summer, all seven of us had at least one bottle. When school started, and 7 a.m. practices began, we sprayed Lovespell in toxic amounts. When a girl walked into the locker room, she didn’t ask “Who has the perfume?” Instead, she would ask, “Which cheerleader sprayed the Lovespell?” And we would giggle and continue to primp for school. To this day, Lovespell remains the scent of cheerleading. It is no longer my favorite perfume, and I rarely wear it; but when I do, or smell it on someone else, I drift back to Stephen’s College, the dirty dorms, and the scent of Lovespell that brought us together. As shown with the Lovespell obsession, most girls like perfume, or as Dana and I often called it, “good smelly stuff.” Our bond began because of several things: boys, cheerleading, and a love of Tommy Girl perfume. Tommy Girl was our signature scent— a vital ingredient to what made us “Sarah and Dana.” New Year’s Eve, what we call our first adventure, began with a careful spritzing of Tommy Girl. When we first met our then boyfriends, they told us they were drawn in because we always smelled so nice. We even sprayed a get well card to my then boyfriend with Tommy Girl, and when the scent faded away, he made us spray it again. Over time, Tommy Girl became more than liquid in a bottle. Before every outing, we had a routine. We curled our hair, brushed our teeth, applied eyeliner (liquid, not pencil) and mascara, and sprayed on our Tommy Girl. Every time I wear that perfume, I remember the first three months of our friendship. Tommy Girl represents our crazy adventures, our countless inside jokes, our various boys, and unforgettable memories. The crisp, sweet, summery scent of Tommy Girl takes me back to last January when our friendship was just beginning. And even though Dana now lives in Michigan, Tommy Girl perfume crosses the 600 mile difference and joins us together. There are two types of “good smelly stuff.” The kind that bonds girls together, such as the Lovespell and Tommy Girl, and the kind that attracts girls to boys (and boys to girls, I assume.) Curve for Men is one of the second types. The first vivid memory I have of Jake at the musical is standing by the make shift dressing room and him shoving his tiny bottle of Curve into his shoe. “Can’t leave home without this stuff,” he told me. And from then on I associated Curve for Men with Jake. Whenever we went out, he would wear Curve. Just by standing near him I could smell the cologne; Curve’s scent, combined with his effect on me, almost made my knees buckle. While I haven’t been near him in months, anytime I smell Curve for Men I think of Jake and remember the experiences we shared. Those short three months have influenced my life forever, and Curve for Men reminds me of that. The smell of Curve is probably the strongest scent tied to a memory. We are made of our past. Human nature causes us to cling to memories, and we use all means possible to do so. Many people create “memory boxes” filled with old ticket stubs, pictures, or dead flowers. But my “memory box” is my nose. Scents of all kinds keep my past alive. The aroma of food cooking in my grandmother’s kitchen spurs recollections of past family celebrations. The salty ocean breeze relaxes my body and reminds me of my happy family. And the scent of certain colognes and perfumes creates a picture show in my head. A cologne or perfume means nothing without the person wearing it, and the same cologne on two separate people smells differently. The simple notes of a cologne combine with the natural scent of a person and create a symphony of smells. Without that special symphony, a cologne would have no significance. Scents are more than a sensation in my nose; they are the memory box of my life.