Homeland Insecurity: Passing the smell test
by Lisa Davis
Apr 14, 2013 | 1515 views |  0 comments | 9 9 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Ah, spring! I’ve been longing to throw open my windows and air out the house, but I haven’t because, well, most of my windows are painted shut.

Plus there’s been a pollenpocalypse raging outside.

I’ve been searching for different ways to freshen up the house.

I tried a tip I’d read about tucking dryer sheets under the chair cushions. Now, I’m not a big fan of dryer sheets. I don’t want my clothes to smell like anything besides clothes. I don’t use scented detergent or fabric softener or dryer sheets. My husband misses the smell of Tide, but marriage is all about sacrifice, right?

“Odorist.” That’s what my husband calls me. Did you now they have designer dryer sheets now? I bought a box in “sage-jasmine.” They still smell like dryer sheets. The box is now entombed in several layers of plastic bags, waiting to be returned to the store.

Over the years, I have tried all sorts of air fresheners. I’ve never liked the sprays, because I invariably wind up spraying myself.

I don’t like the scented beads because they look like giant fish eggs.

Oil diffusers worked well, except for their nasty tendency to get knocked over.

Ditto for candles.

I tried an oil warmer this past winter, with a spicy orange-scented oil. I liked it. It was the rest of the family that couldn’t stand it.

Back in high school, I wasn’t nearly so discriminatory about scents. I wore Charlie! (That’s their exclamation point, not mine.) I was kinda young, kinda now, kinda free, kinda wow.

My husband wore Chaps or Canoe or Old Spice from the white tapered bottle. Although he drew the line at Hai Karate (the weapon men used before Axe), because he thought the karate-chopping commercials were too silly.

They say scent is the strongest memory trigger. Pity my husband, who can still remember the smell of the high-school locker room after a football game, when the players had showered off then doused themselves in musk.

I don’t like most modern fragrances. (You know that co-worker who’s always complaining about people in the office who wear too much perfume? Yeah, that’s me.)

But then one day I stumbled across a website for a company called CB I Hate Perfume, where an iconoclastic perfumer named Christopher Brosius concocts scents like “Burning Leaves,” “Memory of Kindness,” “At the Beach” and — my favorite — “In the Library.”

What book lover wouldn’t want to smell like a “warm blend of English novel, Russian and Moroccan leather bindings, worn cloth and a hint of wood polish”?

Hey, it’s better than smelling like Britney Spears’ Fantasy.

I could only afford a tiny vial of “In the Library,” so I only wear it once a year or so.

My mother wore L’Air du Temps, a classic fragrance that has been around since 1949. I keep a tiny bottle of it to remind me of her.

My kids, on the other hand, will just have to remember me for my non-scents.

Contact Lisa Davis at ldavis@annistonstar.com.
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Homeland Insecurity: Passing the smell test by Lisa Davis

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