The smell of spices in the fall, the hint of crayons right when you open the box or the whiff of a signature perfume all have a unique power to stop you in your tracks and snap you back to a place that only exists in memory. When this happens I like to take a moment and enjoy the memory like a wave until the scent escapes me.
I think it’s cool.
Now, if you want to get technical about it, scientists estimate that humans have 1000 different sensors in their noses and can identify about 10,000 odors. I can tell you from experience that some of those odors are more pleasant than others, but they don’t state that in the research.
I stumbled upon a few of those fragrances when I stepped on the campus of my alma mater to teach a television production class this past week.
I walked into Olin Center, a building where I spent much of my time as an undergraduate. It’s been nine years since I wore a freshman beanie and walked into that building for the first time. And you know what? It smelled the same.
It snapped me back to Speech 110 where I felt my knees shaking from nerves once again. It reminded me of many late nights spent editing in the Mac computer lab and it made me remember the feeling of being a student, unsure of what my future might hold and what kind of job I would have.
When I walked into the enclosed stairwell, another scent hit me and provided me with a flashback of leaving class and rushing to another. I felt like me as a student just for a moment – I could even feel the heavy backpack full of hardcover books and binders – and it made me smile.
I entered the room where I would teach television production – it’s the same room where I spent many class hours in college. It looked the same, but didn’t really have a scent.
During the first class I was getting to know my group of 15. We talked about how memories are attached to emotions. I asked them to share the first memory that popped into their heads when I said “elementary school.” This brought discussion of bowl haircuts from the early 90s, fights with best friends and a boy who mastered faking sick.
A bubbly brunette in the back row raised her hand, a content smile on her face.
“I remember preparing for the first day of first grade,” she said, her smile growing.
“What about it do you remember?” I asked.
“I remember the excitement of getting some new outfits, but especially the new school supplies,” her eyes lit up as she described the smell of new Crayola crayons.
A male student looked over at her.
“Are you saying school stinks?”
“Yes,” she thought for a moment. “But in a good way.”
I suppose they’re both right, but I prefer to word it this way: school “has an aroma” and I love that it does.