Olfactory Personal History
Looking back there are a few scents that I can relate my childhood to. My father was a heavy smoker until I was about thirteen years old. Around five years old, I would always complain to my mother that the house smelled like smoke and that it gave me headaches. My mom would candles to eliminate the nauseating smell. The scented candle, cotton breeze, most dominantly sticks in my head. It had a refreshing smell to it, like clothes right out of the dryer. The more the candle burned, the more my home started to smell like a cool, spring day. It was such a relaxing smell. It made me feel happy and cozy in my home. The illuminating smell was trapped in my home until I was about thirteen years old. That year my father stopped smoking, so my mother felt no need to burn the candles anymore. Not only did my home smell like cotton breeze, but it also smelt of fresh chocolate chip cookies. My mom's favorite t
Above all aromas, the smell of the beach was my favorite. I miss when the windows were open, the scent of the ocean breeze sweeping through the beach house. The smell made me dream of the impossible, made me feel free-spirited, girlish, and oblivious to the outside world. It was as if my bedroom was in a different world from which I was living in. When it was a good, windy day, my brothers and I would fly a kite. I mostly acted as a tomboy, but as I entered my mystical bedroom I could pullout my dress-up dolls and feel completely at ease. The fairy dust smelled like fresh blooming flowers just picked from an open meadow. My mother gave me Tinkerbelle fairy dust for my sixth birthday, and my bedroom smelt like that magical dust until I ran out. Whenever I walk into another house and it smells like chocolate chip cookies or fresh laundry, it reminds me of my childhood, and the memories all come back to me. Once my two older brothers went to college, and I began high school, my parents sold the beach house because there was not enough time to go anymore. Not only did my house have a certain smell, but my room smelt different than the rest of the house. The smell of the chocolate chips melting and the dough made me feel warm inside. My brothers were rough and tough, and didn't allow me to exhibit my girlie behavior. The sun would be setting, and we could smell the greasy hamburgers and charcoal hotdogs my mom was grilling on the deck.
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