What the Nose Knows

One of my favorite childhood books featured a young boy who had an amazing sense of smell. Like a dog, he could sniff the ground and tell who had last passed by. He knew where his friends had been and what they’d last eaten.

His nose was his superpower, and I wanted it, imagined it, for myself. They say a dog’s nose is 200 times keener than a human’s. Imagine! How I would astonish everyone by telling them, after a sniff or two, where they had been and with whom.

Even with our limited sense of smell, humans need our noses, especially to tell us if anything’s burning. If you smell smoke, even if there’s no logical reason for it, trust your schnozz, hunt it down, and put it out. “The nose knows.” The nose registers reality; you don’t hallucinate a smell.

Scents are a regular part of our quotidian joys. The smell of coffee, in particular, brings us almost as much delight as the drink itself. In a recent Here to Help (the New York Times page 3 feature), we are told that “sniffing a pleasant scent like coffee can reduce stress.” Aromatherapy is based on the idea that essential oils can improve psychological well-being.

I choose soaps that smell good. Lavendar soap makes the whole bathroom smell like Provence. Someone gave me a bar of soap with an orange slice half embedded in it, and the burnt and spicy fragrance is so wonderful that I keep it in my car as an air freshener. Every time I get into the car has become an olfactory treat, though after a short while, I stop noticing, as is, alas, the case with many pleasures . . . When I first put on perfume, I inhale it gratefully, but by the time I get downstairs, I scarcely notice it.

Apparently, females have a better sense of smell than males: compared to men, women excel in detection, discrimination and identifying aromas. This is because women have more cells in the olfactory bulb—the area of the brain dedicated to smell—than men. This probably confers some evolutionary advantage, but in modern day life, it means women basically wear perfume for each other. Men rarely seem to notice it, but women often do.

When I was about twenty, I sat down in a subway car next to an older woman who smelled so delightful I had to ask what she was wearing so I could smell that way, too. The answer? Jean Nate bath powder. I must have worn it for a decade before turning to Opium.

These days, my husband and sons doesn’t notice my perfume (an obscure Irish scent called “Innisfree”), but three hours after I’ve put it on, the dental receptionist might compliment me on it. Yesterday I stopped some stranger on the street to ask about her perfume, which turned out to be an essential oil. I took out my little notebook and wrote down the company name. The oil arrives tomorrow. I can’t wait! Soon I’ll radiate that warm and golden scent myself.

My gay friend Jane is disdainful. “We dykes don’t like artificial smells. No one I’ve dated has ever worn perfume.” I wonder if the olfactory bulbs of gay women have fewer (or more!) olfactory cells than those of straight women, but I doubt there will ever be a study about it.

My straight friend Alicia doesn’t wear perfume either: she wears vanilla.

"Even as a kid I found the scent of vanilla to be transportive and magical, and as a teen I used to apply drops of vanilla extract to my clothes whenever I could. In my 20s I used The Body Shop vanilla products, which were kind of plasticky but sweet enough for my liking. In my 30s men tried to buy me various vanilla perfumes but holy hell, they caused such an allergic reaction that I couldn't wear them. In my 40s I discovered the brand Lavanilla, which contains nothing that makes me react, and comes in various iterations of the scent. I've tried them all, but my fav is just the plain old one, and it's been my signature scent ever since. I wear it when I'm working with clients, and I think I see them relax a bit once the subtle, sweet scent hits them. I don't wear it at home very often because now my husband is the one who reacts to scents, but I'll linger outside any bakery or ice cream shop if there's a vanilla situation going on. Come to think of it, I may just go back to regular extract, because nothing has ever topped it!"

- Alicia Dara, Womancake Magazine

Now it is spring, and the flowers will soon be in bloom. Did you know that the darker the rose, the more intense the smell? So white roses are less fragrant than pink ones, and red roses are the most intense of all.

There’s a big lilac bush down the block near my house, and soon I’ll be paying it frequent visits, closing my eyes and burying my nose in its blossoms, in full view of the neighbors. I have no shame. No perfume, powder or essential oil can smell as good as this.

Photo by Engin Akyurt for Unsplash

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Readers, you can now pre-order my book, to be published April 20, 2025:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1ZBZ21M?ref_=pe_93986420_775043100

The Pleasure Principle is all about just saying yes!

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What are your fondest scent memories?