Scents, Senses, and the Senselessness of Memory

I've read in multiple articles that your sense of smell is the sense that is most closely linked to memory. It has something to do with your olfactory bulb being connected to the parts of the brain that are implicated in memory. I believe the claim has merit, as I can simply write "drizzling rain hitting the warm pavement" and you are able to immediately imagine what that would smell like. 

Sense of smell, smells we have processed over the years, especially from our childhood, have the capability to trigger the strongest emotions. Maybe it's aroma from a meal a loved one cooked for you as a child or the lingering fragrance of a room that gave you the feeling of familiarity or the scent of a significant other that never left your heart--it all affects us differently.

Barbecued food immediately brings me back to the period of time I lived in Texas. Family gatherings would commence when someone who wasn't completely drunk but buzzed enough to have the courage to volunteer for the important task of taking over the grill. Brisket, chicken, steak--various meats grilled over an open flame would signify the connection of family. Echoes of kids playing in the backyard mixed with the waft of freshly cut grass in the humid environment washes over me as I recollect on my younger days, reminding me of a simpler time where the only thing I was concerned about was my homework that was due the next day. I've since divorced myself from the roots that had been planted in Texas long ago, but it doesn't prevent me from getting nostalgic when I smell burning charcoal on a warm, Summer day.

For whatever reason the men I had been with romantically in the past never had a scent to them, which is better than the alternative. My own staple fragrance has more than likely scarred the olfactory memory of many of my exes for an entire eternity. The first time I hung out with my ex after we broke up, he made a comment that the way I smelled brought him back to the great memories we shared together. One time when we were dating, I left my scarf at his place. He texted me letting me know it was being protected by his gorgeous dog, Maggie. He also said it "smelled like me" with a smiley emoji. The text illustrated an image in my head of him putting my forgotten scarf to his face, inhaling deeply, providing him with a feeling of love, of comfort, of sweetness. A good friend told me when you really love someone, you'll love the way they smell. Maybe the fact I never picked up on a scent from any one of my exes signifies that maybe I didn't love them as much as I did, if at all.

One of my favorite scents is Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds. I only like this scent for one reason and one reason only: this was my mother's favorite perfume. 

She loved White Diamonds. Every day she would douse herself in this relatively expensive perfume. From head to toe she would spray it all over her body. Sometimes she would spritz it on me, (this prompted my kindergarten teacher to call my mother and tell her I could no longer wear perfume in class because she was allergic to it). A bottle could be found in her purse for the times she wanted to "freshen up". One of her complaints was that after a certain point she stopped smelling it on herself. The scent never dissipated, but rather my mother's nose adjusted to the scent. Sure, friends and other companions would attempt to buy her different types of perfume to get her to explore other essences. She accepted them graciously, but these bottles of expensive perfume would end up sitting on the bathroom counter, still full, collecting dust, never landing on clean skin.

Because of her constant application of the golden liquid, she would go through a bottle a month. Again, this perfume was relatively expensive. On average, depending on bottle size, it was between $50-$75, making it a costly budget item. It didn't matter though. My mother hardly had lavish, expensive taste but this along with her More Red cigarettes, were the two costly items she was willing to lay down some serious dough. Leaving the house without bathing in White Diamonds was unfathomable to her. She didn't feel like she could leave the house unless everyone got a whiff of her. This made shopping for gifts on birthdays/Mothers' Day/holidays an easy task. There have been numerous times where my brother and I would buy a bottle of White Diamonds for her. Each time we gave it her, she would get excited. It didn't matter how many times we gave her the same gift, whether it was the second Mothers Day in a row or the second holiday in a row, she loved the perfume so much it didn't matter. She loved us so much it didn't matter. 

After my mother passed, my brother and I cleaned out her car. She was technically homeless when she died so everything she owned, all of her worldly possessions, were stuffed in black garbage bags in the back seat of her Chrysler Sebring. Most of it was clothing from cheap fashion boutiques, clothes that would tear after one wear. Along with important paperwork,  her bag was also filled with different beauty products--various things of make-up, hair products, creams and, of course, a half-filled bottle of White Diamonds missing its gold cap. By the time she passed, the perfume had gotten cheaper to buy but was still expensive. Since she had no job to speak of, solely being supported by my grandfather who would put her up in local motels so she could have a bed to sleep in, I knew she must have cut back on how often she wore her favorite fragrance. Despite being in love with the concoction, it must have killed her spirit to know her beloved White Diamonds was no longer a necessity but rather a luxury that she could no longer afford to indulge in. Out of everything in her car, this bottle of perfume was her most prized possession. I swiped the perfume. Everything else was donated to Goodwill.

I started wearing perfume after she died. I guess it was a way to feel closer to her, to make me feel like I was her daughter. I'm not sure why, really. Catching a whiff of myself, inhaling the sweet aroma of my favorite perfume at random times during the day is a pleasure I've found myself enjoying more as I've gotten older. As a matter of fact, I've now adopted the whole I-can't-leave-the-house-unless-I-am-wearing-perfume mentality my mother inadvertently passed down to me.

I liked the scent of White Diamonds on her, but never on myself. I've discovered other notes from other perfumes that match my body chemistry perfectly. I have received compliments from co-workers, friends, and family on my complimentary essence. I've even seduced a few men with my trademark scent. I will occasionally wear White Diamonds on her birthday. It conjures up emotions, yes, but it makes me believe she's still here because I can smell her. Sometimes when I'm out in public, I can smell someone else wearing my mother's scent. In those instances, for a brief moment, I believe my mom is here, just around the corner, waiting for me to find her.