This fall, I briefly misplaced my sense of odor. Covid, after all. In that handful of days, I slid into a state of sensory dullness. I stared on the pad Thai I’d ordered, unable to select the notes of lime or fish sauce, these scents of my childhood. I drove my nostril into a sachet of ginger tea that will not, couldn’t, summon any aroma. Some smells, I used to be glad to be rid of. Good riddance to the overflowing trash bin; no sorrow for the wet-dog stink of a towel flapping by the heater. However principally, the loss woke up in me an sudden displacement of id. I couldn’t even odor myself.

Who was I with out the whiff of my lavender deodorant slicing by way of the sweat of the day? With out the sweetness of a jam streak from my daughter’s lunch, the fetid remnants of espresso on my breath? My very own sterility of scent was disorienting, like Dorothy’s technicolor transition in reverse. The plainness of the world devastated me.

I’ve heard folks passionately describe their companions by way of their scents, that indefinable alchemy of pheromones and perfume. In romance novels, ladies’s smells are in comparison with flowers; males, to fir bushes in late December. When robust feeling overwhelms us, we hook our recollections to perfume, that the majority intimate of transactions. You can stare upon a particular person from a distance, however to really odor them, it’s important to shut the hole.

My first crush was dedicated to CK1, a citrus-heavy perfume that rose to recognition within the nineties. Center faculty, for me. Typically, he’d lend me his sweatshirt, and I’d bury my nostril within the collar, like a hound earlier than a hunt. On the time, we’d all just lately been inducted into the world of physique mists, dousing ourselves in enthusiastic sprays between lessons. After I consider center faculty, I nonetheless anticipate to come across that preteen potpourri of Hawaiian Ginger mingled with woodsy pencil shavings and the gummy funk of decades-old textbooks.

That’s to say, the smells of our lives inform a story. In the event you step into a home you’ve by no means been to earlier than, you’ll catch clues of the residents’ lives — meals they’ve eaten, candles they’ve lit. That historical past of scent leaves an impression, as clear as the colour on the partitions. On the subject of our personal scents, what tales are we shaping? What do our signature scents say about us?

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There are such a lot of phrases to explain odor. Sillage. Petrichor. Noisome. Musk. Miasma. For enjoyable, I’ll typically learn the descriptions of perfumes. I ask myself: do I actually know the distinction between tuberose and run-of-the-mill rose? What does ambergris odor like? And the way, precisely, can I detect a coronary heart observe versus a base observe?

Currently, I’ve observed a cultural preoccupation with odor: TikToks dedicated to fragrance historical past, A-list superstar endorsements for colognes, guarantees of temper regulation by way of aromatherapy. If I needed to enterprise a guess, I feel this smell-mania has one thing to do with our want for individuation in a extremely fragmented world. We consider our scents can reveal one thing singular about us, the way in which an Enneagram or horoscope may.

Maybe for the primary time in human historical past, by way of the sophisticated marvels of capitalism, perfume is extra accessible. Not only for the rich, nearly each private hygiene merchandise may be scented as of late — shaving cream, chapstick, face wipes, pads. Is it any marvel that a few of us are overwhelmed by the aromas of the world?

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I’ve come to a crossroads in terms of perfume. For the previous yr, I’ve used a clinging rose fragrance that I picked out in a match of indecision at a fancy boutique. I’d gotten so flustered, my nostril so deadened to nuance, that I grabbed no matter felt least offensive on the time. However once I put on it, I don’t really feel like me. I’ve the impression of a sublime retiree entering into my shadow and leaving her sillage behind. After I recovered from Covid, I attempted utilizing my rose fragrance once more, however needed to shelve it shortly after. The scent can be pretty on one other, however now it solely nauseated me.

I’ve been dragging my ft on discovering a new perfume. What I preferred in my twenties — florals, herbs, citrus — isn’t the identical as what I take pleasure in now. I’m craving complexity and verve; I lengthy for unprettiness. It must be sly and a little harmful, the proper of bitter, a waltz in the dead of night. Over the previous few months, I’ve examined dozens of perfumes, to no avail.

However then one morning, I took a drive by way of Midwestern farm nation at an ungodly hour, when the roads stretched empty and the air nonetheless held the wetness of the evening. Because the solar shrugged its means onto the horizon, I smelled it — a mixture that made my eyes widen, my senses tingle. I almost stopped the automobile. Methods to describe it? Damp earth, just-split wooden, the caramel scorch of bonfire, the musk of classic clothes.

I’ve been chasing that scent since. Is it doable to distill so many issues without delay? Or is it like capturing magic in a bell jar? On some stage, that odor was a product of a very particular set of circumstances, an olfactory bonding as inimitable and fleeting as a good reminiscence.

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Perhaps the thought of a signature scent is much less in regards to the mists we placed on our physique, however what our our bodies themselves exude on a given day.

When my daughter hugs me earlier than faculty drop-off, I burrow my nostril into her scalp. Is it her shampoo I discover so irresistible? Her lotion? The laundry detergent from her garments? What makes her odor uniquely hers? With my mom, by way of each fragrance she’s used, I can sniff out her underlying essence: the heat, the sweat, that cinnamony-thyme bouquet that feels as elemental to me as dwelling. You can’t bottle these aromas.

Perhaps some smells are revealed to solely a choose few by way of the tedious slog of days, cautious observance, love. It takes not less than two our bodies to make a odor: the one producing it, and the one consuming it. The phrase “fragrance” comes from a set of Latin phrases that imply “by way of smoke.” So, perhaps that’s how we discover one another and ourselves; by way of the smoke and confusion of the every day shuffle.

As a lot as scent can nest on the locus of the self, it appears to function at its strongest when emanating from communal rituals. I’m considering of the sway of joss sticks at a temple; chlorine wrung from sagging swimsuits in a locker room; gravy boiling on the range through the holidays. A summer season street journey squashed in a minivan bursting with aunts, grandmas, cousins, every exuding their distinctive smells. A perfume-heavy embrace of bridesmaids earlier than a marriage ceremony. Ultimately, the facility of perfume emerges not from its singularity, however from the way in which it weaves among the many different beloved scents of our lives, creating an countless chord wherein we’re all minor but vital notes.

Thao Thai is a author and editor in Ohio, the place she lives along with her husband and daughter. Her great debut novel, Banyan Moon got here out this yr. Thao has additionally written for Cup of Jo about absent fathers, types of moms, and bodily affection. You can subscribe to her e-newsletter right here.

P.S. A fragrance odor take a look at, and the one factor Joanna will get probably the most compliments on.

(Picture by MaaHoo/Stocksy.)