I’m taking your book obsession to an aromatic new level.
I think I probably attach feelings to scents more than the average person. I’m hyper-sensitive when it comes to smell, which means I pick up on everything, all the time. As a result, scents become deeply ingrained in my mind, and I’ve even been known to wear certain perfumes based on my moods or specific life situations out of habit.
One of the biggest downfalls of this so-called "elevated scent awareness" is the ability a smell has to significantly impact my emotions. Even the slightest whiff of expired Chanel No. 5 takes me right back to sifting through my beloved great grandmother’s jewelry box in her bedroom, and the unknown fragrance that I’ve deemed "Disneyland Smell" that I catch in the air every once in a while leaves me gushing with childlike joy.
Perhaps most disorienting, though, is the scent of lost romances.
I’m a massive supporter of cologne, and I have a habit (bad, good—who knows?) of splurging on scents for my partner if they don’t already have a signature smell. When I’m in the thick of it, I delight in hugging someone and breathing in that same comforting elixir, but when things inevitably end and heartbreak ensues, I find myself struggling to keep it together upon crossing paths with someone else donning the same cologne.
In short, it’s like dodging emotional scent-landmines that I set up myself.
My most recent masculine scent obsession is none other than Spicebomb, a deliciously spicy scent that an xoVain commenter once described as "sexy man cake." Shortly after previously publishing my adoration for this grenade-shaped bottle, I went on a Tinder date with a very dreamy boy, and only moments after he walked up, I practically screamed, “ARE YOU WEARING SPICEBOMB?!?”
I’d love to say the story ended there and we lived happily ever after in olfactory bliss, but within a few weeks, my all-time favourite sexy cologne had been turned into something that made me feel both teary and filled with rage at the same time. I was ready to swear off of adoring it forever, but then I had a thought: instead of trying to pin my dream cologne to my dream date, why not just wear it myself?
Though the first few spritzes were distinctly painful and loaded with memories, Spicebomb quickly became a go-to in my scent lineup, and with each day, I attached new memories, experiences and people to its cakey goodness. It was a pretty empowering move, if I do say so myself, and I can’t recommend trying it out enough as a way to move forward.
And what ever happened to my dreamy Tinder date? By some strange twist of fate, we’ve ended up actually dating, and I can only imagine we smell twice as sweet together.