Smells are surer than sights and sounds to make your heart-strings crack. ~Rudyard Kipling
A few days ago, I told you that I had purchased a new bedding set. But despite the nearly sinful softness of the sheets against my bare skin (…yes, what you are thinking in terms of my nightwear is correct), I found it extremely difficult to fall asleep that night.
This is not surprising. Every time I wash my bedding, I spend a night or two in a state of fitful slumber. You see, I discovered long ago that my inherent insomnia is exacerbated by attempting to fall asleep in a bed that doesn’t smell like me.
Scent is a powerful sense. More powerful than most of us give it credit for. And while we humans might lack the scent-tracking abilities of the common canine, Kipling was right- more so than any other sense, smell is the most closely associated with memory and emotion.
The reason for this lies deep within… YOUR BRAIN!
The olfactory bulb is located on the bottom portion of your brain and is part of the limbic system, the area of the brain associated with memory and emotion. Our olfactory bulbs have intimate access to the amygdala (emotion) and hippocampus (memory). Sensory information acquired through smell goes straight into the limbic system, which is why smell can so easily invoke such an intense emotional response or trigger specific memories.
Few things are as memorable as smell. While sight and sound can end up lost in the mire of your short-term memory, there is virtually no short-term memory for olfactory information.
We become acclimated to certain smells. The shampoo used by a lover, the perfume a mother dabs on her wrists, the spicy scent of autumn leaves. Spend too much time around a scent and it seems to fade into the background. Walk through a rose garden for too long and you’ll eventually cease to notice the heavy perfume of the blossoms around you. Spend night after night with your lover and you’ll soon stop noticing the sharp, rich scent of their skin.
But when your lover leaves you, you’ll notice the smell of them anywhere it crops up. When you pass someone on the street who wears the same cologne as your absent partner, memories of your time together will overtake you. You’ll pause for a moment, heart speeding up, looking in vain for the man you know who wears that particular aroma around him like a cloak. It’s a scent you will forever associate with him.
Everything around us has a particular scent. Every day, we encounter the stale odor of the city bus, the crisp aroma of freshly sliced apples, the faint perfume of honeysuckle, the raw scent of the ocean. Coffee, hand soap, public restrooms, old books, soy sauce, disinfectant, popcorn, printer paper, Sharpies… An assault of smells upon our senses, bombarding us every second of every day.
We are so used to the air around us having a particular smell that we barely notice it. But what if we were to travel into space? Would the vacuum of space, cold and unbreathable as it is, have a scent all its own? Or would it be the sterile, scentless base all other smells are layered upon?
Don Pettit, a science officer on the ISS, has an answer for us. Which might seem strange, seeing as you would think that no human could survive sniffing the vacuum. But what you might be forgetting is our uncanny ability to distinguish a new, novel scent from the cacophony we are used to. If you were to hang out near the airlock of the space station after a spacewalk, you would be able to identify a scent you were unfamiliar with. According to Pettit, this is how he knows what space smells like.
So… what does it smell like?
“It is hard to describe this smell; it is definitely not the olfactory equivalent to describing the palette sensations of some new food as ‘tastes like chicken.’ The best description I can come up with is metallic; a rather pleasant sweet metallic sensation. It reminded me of my college summers where I labored for many hours with an arc welding torch repairing heavy equipment for a small logging outfit. It reminded me of pleasant sweet smelling welding fumes. That is the smell of space.”
But what we think of as the scent of something is often more than just its base aroma. It’s a layering of various related scents in the area. In your own home, your sweatshirt may appear not to have a distinguishable smell. But take it to the home of a friend, press your nose to that same fabric, and inhale. Now, you notice the scent that is your home, still clinging to your sweatshirt. Depending on our location, the apparent scent of an object can change.
NASA has previously done some work with International Flavors and Fragrances (a perfume company) to determine if the low-gravity environment of space could have any effect on the scent of a flower.
Turns out, a rose in space will smell sweeter than a rose on Earth.
The fragrance of a rose is the product of oils the plant creates to attract insects and birds for pollination purposes. These oils are of particular interest to fragrance companies, naturally, and the exact types of oils and the amounts of each one produced by certain flowers are pieces of information companies like IFF desire. With that data in hand, they can work to create sweeter-smelling, longer-lasting fragrances for women to spray too liberally upon their person so that they might choke innocent passersby as they wander through the narrow aisles of the local grocery store.
In 1998, Discovery STS-95 had a tiny passenger aboard that would help IFF with its sensual science. That passenger was Overnight Scentsation, a miniature rose with two small buds that was housed in a small chamber that helped keep the proper conditions for the little rose to grow.
Scientists aboard the spacecraft took four samples of the rose’s oils during their mission. Upon return to Earth, these samples were turned over to IFF. And IFF found that, while the rose produced fewer oils while in space, it had a more “floral rose aroma”.
Man, even flowers make it into space. Why can’t I?
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Scent can change depending on location, among other factors, but one thing about scent remains consistent- its unerring ability to drag forth, from the recesses of our minds, memories we thought long lost to the ravages of time.
This can be both a blessing and a curse, naturally. Sometimes, I think it would just be easier to forget the smell of your clothes, your hair, your room. To not catch a whiff of your bodywash on a man standing next to me in line at the store. To not have the memories of you come crashing to the forefront when I’m walking down the street.
But even now, as my mind’s eye gently blurs your features to the point where I find myself having to rely more and more often on a photograph to get a complete, sharp picture of your face, the smell that surrounded you is a memory that remains as vivid and strong as ever.
***
We’ll end with a (completely unrelated) riddle… of sorts:
Today, I ordered five Xbox 360 titles off Amazon. Three are games I owned when I owned my last 360 in 2008. Two of the titles were released within the last year.
So…
What games did I order, galleons?