The first of our senses

“Smell was the first of our senses, and it was so successful that in time the small lump of olfactory tissue atop the nerve cord grew into a brain. Our cerebral hemispheres were originally buds from the olfactory stalks. We think because we smelled.” (Ackerman, 20)

Given that it was the first evolved, how suitable that smell is the first chapter of A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman. Divided in five chapters, Ackerman details the evolutionary origins and compiles famous literary descriptions of smell, touch, taste, hearing and vision, as well as synesthesia. She integrates science surrounding each sense with vignettes of her experiences with such. The book is both informative and creative, making it one of the most enjoyable required readings I’ve ever had for a class.

In a section titled “The Winter Palace of Monarchs, ”Ackerman tells the reader one of her most vivid “aromatic memories.” While traveling up the coast of California to tag monarch butterflies, she worked several days in eucalyptus groves because it is where butterflies migrate to during winter. She mentions that the first time to walked into one, she was “filled with sudden tender memories of mentholated rub and childhood colds.” (Ackerman, 18) She then described working in that grove forest with delicate butterflies, and her memories of Illinois in the 1950’s when she stayed home sick on a school day. It was a beautiful passage of how an experience was encoded by scent, and how the smell of eucalyptus lead to another poignant memory. Afterwards, when walking about the streets of New York, she stopped to buy eucalyptus for her hotel room, and the scent was able to transport her away from chaotic 3rd Avenue back to the California, back to nostalgia.

Everyone has “aromatic memories” of inhaling particular scents and being immersed in memory as a result. When Professor Brumberg-Kraus mentioned that he was writing a book titled “Gastronomical Judaism,” I made a remark about how the smell of matzo ball soup brings me back to Hannukah at my grandma’s house. Preparing the soup was an occasion in itself, my great-grandma made the stock, which was the most time-consuming of any food preparation. My grandma and I would make the matzo balls. Nothing will ever taste as good, considering it’s easier to buy chicken stock than boil a whole chicken for a couple hours. But I miss that soup, and the people who prepared it, and when I catch a whiff of a specific chicken stock stewed with parsley, dill and onions, it’s comforting. 

Smell is so strongly correlated with what we know to be true, that it is a powerful tool in advertising, marketing, and commerce. An obvious example would be the perfume industry, but every product that gives off a scent has been strategically mixed for marketing purposes. Ackerman’s interview with Sophia Grojsman, an odor evaluator at International Flavors and Fragrances Inc., was so entertaining because I am fascinated by the perfume making process. It is a delight to sample perfumes, and to know instantly what you like and don’t like. The discussion between Ackerman and Grojsman in the difference between a sexy, sensual, and vampy scent, as well as the descriptions Ackerman gave of the scents she sampled, was so interesting because it’s describing how seduction is commodified.

There are perfume brands that reject the idea that the customer has to be “seduced” to buy a scent, and just mix smells that they know people will love. Demeter was started in 1992 with its first three scents being “Dirt,” “Grass,” and “Tomato.” They’ve since made hundreds of unconventional perfumes, with “classic scents” including “Fresh Ginger,” “Pure Soap,” “White Bouquet,” “Cannabis Flower,” and so so many specific and nuanced smells that they create.

Demeter blends single scents, and have a page discussing how you can mix your own perfume to create your own essence. The graphic on that page is the picture at the top, as this would be something I want to do rather than search endlessly for the perfect perfume.

Once there was a cab driver who was sick of every fruity, musky, flowery perfume that would linger in his cab and give him a headache. He had the idea that scent should be something to capture everyday memories. He was a co-founder of Demeter Fragrances, and then started his own fragrance boutique in 2005 called, “CB I Hate Perfume.” His manifesto, written in caps lock, is a poem in itself of what scent has the power of being, and how it is misused in the perfume industry. 

After doing some exploring, I found a perfume of his, “VIOLET EMPIRE,” in which he references Ackerman’s book, A Natural History of the Senses, specifically her description of how violets were Napoleon’s and Josephine’s favorite scent, in his "STORY" section. Who wouldn’t want to smell something inspired by our required reading?