What smell takes you back? A Blog Off post
Every two weeks, the blogosphere comes alive when bloggers of all stripes weigh in on the same topic. This week, the topic is "What smells take you back?" Here's my take:
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It's said that scent is the experience most carefully tied to memory. I don't know how genuine that is but it moves me as some thing this is totally viable.
There are smells of all kinds that take me back to different places and times. The first that comes to mind is this one, Old Spice.
The fragrance of unique Old Spice after shave will continually remind me of my Dad. I can't believe ever the usage of it myself however that scent jogs my memory of him as plenty because the words "Macht schnell" do.
Chanel Number five jogs my memory of my mother and Shalimar rings a bell in my memory of my grandmother Stewart. The smell of polished timber jogs my memory of my Grandmother Anater's prized piano. Johnson's toddler shampoo will always take me back to the fact of my nieces and nephews.
The fragrance of mild device oil will usually take me back to the fact of my brother Ray's coronet. The scent of baking bread strikes a chord in my memory of my sister Adele, even if the baking bread's in my personal oven. Wintergreen strikes a chord in my memory of the Skoal my brothers Matt, Tom, Dave and Steve dipped continuously.
The odor of cow manure transports me lower back to my youth domestic in Pennsylvania without fail, the heady scent of a pine tree right after a cool rain rings a bell in my memory of my Ontario adolescence summers and the smell of the sea reminds me of afternoons at the Jersey shore.
Old Bay seasoning reminds me of crab boils with neighbors when I was a kid and the smell of celery and onion sauteing means my mother and grandmother are about to make stuffing on Thanksgiving morning.
Deisel exhaust jogs my memory of taking public transportation anywhere after I changed into in university and the smell of wet stone strikes a chord in my memory of Italy.
Jasmine and Jacaranda remind me of Florida, my current home, and roses smell like my brother Tom's yard. Wood smoke smells like my brother Dave's apartment in Pittsburgh and stale beer smells like the bar I worked in a lifetime ago. Golden retriever smells like my brother Matt's homes over the years and that's a good thing. Steve's houses have always just smelled clean.
My sense of smell and my scent memories remain with me permanently and there's not a day that goes by without my remembering a place or a time based on a whiff of something.
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As the day goes on, more and more bloggers will contribute posts and I encourage you to read aech of them.