Whether perfume, popcorn, pipe smoke or a skunk, aromas conjure countless memories
November-December 2026
by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
It is said that smell is the most nostalgic of the senses. There are many scents that can take me back to a moment or place and stir pleasant memories.
When I was about 5 years old, my mother kept a bottle of Chanel No. 5 on her dresser. Gee, but did I love that smell. Now and then, I would splash it all over myself. Somehow, Mom always knew just what I was doing and, shall we say, strongly advised against it. To this day, I still wear only Chanel No. 5.
During my early years of high school, my grandmother passed away and left me her cosmetics and potions. What a gift! My favorite was her powdered lavender sachet. I couldn’t get enough of it. When one of my girlfriends came to spend the night before a big spelling bee, I showed her my prized treasure.
I demonstrated how I liked to smell it by covering one nostril with a finger and inhaling the lavender powder through the other. It shot up my nose, and I began to sneeze. I couldn’t stop. Throughout the spelling bee, I sneezed constantly. Still, somehow, I managed to win.
Another mishap occurred when I came to adore the scent of peonies: I managed to inhale an ant along with the lovely aroma.
Later in high school, I switched to Revlon’s Intimate. My boyfriend loved it. “I wish you’d take a bath in it,” he said one day.
So, on prom night, that’s just what I did. We rode to the prom with two friends, car windows rolled down — but my boyfriend loved it.
A male friend of mine loved the scent of English Leather cologne. He, too, bathed in it every morning before school, and we spent English class enveloped in the aroma. I haven’t smelled English Leather since.
My beloved dog, Brownie, smells like popcorn. I don’t know why, yet I was inspired to write a little ditty about it. It’s one of Brownie’s songs, and it goes like this: “She is as sweet as jelly. She has a scratchy belly. She smells a lot like popcorn. I’m so glad Brownie was born.” Brownie and I loved it.
I also became quite fond of Crabtree & Evelyn’s “Potpourri” room spray. I’d buy it by the six-pack and use it all the time. That fad passed, but I still have a can or two. I know it’s there whenever I may nostalgically crave it.
My late father smoked a pipe, and Mom and I loved the scent of it. One day, after he passed, we were walking down a sidewalk when a man smoking a pipe walked by. Like a military formation, Mom and I turned around and followed him, inhaling all the way.
Now that I’ve discovered the wonders of nature and walking in the woods, there are a host of scents I love. Of course, there’s the smell of leaf piles in the fall. Even snow has a certain scent when it’s falling — and you know how I love snow.
Oddly, I don’t mind the smell of skunks. At least the scent lets you know they’re in the vicinity. Thankfully, I’ve never been sprayed by one. Brownie has never been “skunked,” either. One of my high school friends wasn’t so lucky. On his way to prom, he stepped out his back door — and onto a skunk. He was wearing a rented tuxedo, and the incident was the talk of the town for some time.
I guess when you consider that, going to prom in a nearly noxious cloud of Intimate perfume ain’t too bad.
