Sensory Questionnaire

A few weeks ago whilst doing some research on the many things within the perfume industry, I happend to come across the twitter-feed for Michelle Krell Kydd, author and fragrance consultant. She writes a very intricate blog, GlassPetalSmoke and writes not only about the olfactory but the gustatory. Her twitter-feed is a great resource and back catalogue for articles and news stories related to these two fields.

She hosts a Sensory Questionnaire on her blog and I’ve answered a few of these questions here:

Name/Country of Origin/Profession:

Liam Moore. Northern Ireland. Web Designer.

1.What does your sense of smell mean to you?

I can assure you it means everything. Smell has made me smile with deep content. It has reduced me to tears and in-between, left me in awe.

2.What are some of your strongest scent memories?

The smell of home. It’s like a giant magnet. Some days I’ll get on without thinking about it, then, all of a sudden the smell of toast in work will take me back to being 12 years old. Or, the smell of cleaning products and bleach combined remind me of Saturday afternoons and my mum cleaning our house. Sometimes, it can just be the smell of cut grass and long summer days.

3.What are some of your favorite smells (things in nature, cooking &/or your environment)?

I don’t think I have enough time to write these down. At the moment I’m a little obsessed with these hedges near where I live. They change so frequently. Some days they’re lush, and green and bursting with spring energy. Other days they’re sweet and soft. One day they smelled of fish. There’s a yellowy thorny bush that grows among them and I think it is my favourite smell at the moment. It makes me smile and think of the colour yellow.

When I cook, nothing beats fried garlic. Instant satisfaction. When its gently sizzling away it makes me anticipate my food which is something I forgot to do for a long time. To savour those smells. Then I add in chorizo, onions, food that packs a punch! Other times, I love the smell of avocado and poached egg. Together they make an eggy mix that’s really nice if you’re hungry but not feeling too well.

4.Do you have any favorite smells that are considered strange?

I love the smell of a just-lit match. The sulphur and smoke is so nice. I can’t explain why!

5.Describe one or more of your favorite cooking smells.

Oops, I think I already did. I can expand. I also like the smell of salt and vinegar as it hits really hot chips. When the vinegar gets right between my jawbone and it makes it hurt almost a little and my mouth fills with saliva. I like food that has an effect. Oh and basmati rice. So comforting.

I also like the smell of a Sunday roast at around 10am. When it’s just been put on and the smells aren’t cooked or raw either, but this middle ground where it smells tasty and a little rank.

6.What smells do you most dislike?

Nothing pisses me off more than cigarettes. This has deep roots and is not just on the surface. I grew up in my family (four of us) as the only non-smoker. Still am, and for a while, even in my extended family I was the only non-smoker. That’s changed a little between some of my cousins! But the worst smell I remember is being stuck in a car aged around 14 and my uncle and his pipe, my aunt, and my two cousins all lighting up. The car roof was yellow with tar. The windows were steamy. It was raining. It was a beige, grey day. The smell was acrid, horrid and I was so annoyed at everyone! I could smell the fabric of the car, reeking of stale smoke. Horrible.

7.What smell did you first dislike, but learned to love?

Cooking fish actually. I disliked all fish when I was younger and was actually quite phobic to try it. I always thought it would make me sick. My mum liked to cook haddock or plaice and I learned to like it over time. I now love the fishiest fishy smoked mackerel.

8.What mundane smells inspire you?

Fresh air. It has to be the most mundane of all smells surely? It’s everywhere (hopefully depending you don’t live behind the exhaust of a car) but it can change so much. One minute it can be the most refreshing, stimulating this-is-exactly-what-I-needed odours to being just that thing we breath in and sometimes forget to register. Something that common and diverse has to be inspiring.

9.What scent never fails to take you back in time and why?

Oh dear. This is a tough one. It really does have to depend on what mood I’m in. If I’m feeling particularly nostalgic or sad one day, smell can be incredibly powerful to me. One day I was in a bit of a day dream about far away places and as I stepped off the public transport and could smell the fresh air, I was lifted (I swear on some level) literally off the street and right to the mountains of Tibet, on a grassland where I stood gazing up at a sight I never thought I’d see. Where I was standing in a cloud and grassy meadow rolled out behind me the air here was like heaven.

10.What scents do you associate with memories of loved ones?

Their personal odour. Not that body odour, whiffy onion smell! But the smell of someone’s scalp or the smell they leave on their pillow. The two can be so different yet so the same. One is like a faded copy of the other but just a lovely. And their clothes too I’d say. Having recently lost my mum, burying myself in her clothes was the hardest thing to smell. The smell of the kitchen cupboards in my home, the jars and spills so unassumingly evocative of a time when I was younger with her was another smell having recently experienced I think I’ll associate with her.

11.What fragrance(s) remind you of growing up?

One day recently I was sitting waiting for my friend at a petrol station and the smell of the fumes set off a chain reaction in my head: Ice-creams, sweets and fizzy drinks, Nintendo 64 and sniffing the cartridge when it got too hot. Being 13 years old, videos on a Saturday night and the smell of the plastic VHS from the shop, the popcorn there, and all the Chinese food I’d eat with my friends or sister. The smell of the town where I grew up on a Saturday evening, of the food and the pubs and summer heat, and the car fumes… there it is. That’s why I was reminded of all that!

12.What fragrance(s) remind you of the places you visited on vacation?

It’s a lot of the time food, for obvious reasons. But I’d also go as far to say the fresh air again. In my blog I wrote about how fresh air is obviously different the world over. But a couple of days later it really hit me. If the air where I live now is slightly humid, I’m taken to China. If it’s hot and there’s a city smell about it, I’m taken to America. If it’s really cold and maybe if there’s snow, I’m taken to the Arctic Circle and Sweden.

Fragrances don’t necessarily conjure up images of holidays for me though. One does manage to remind me of a romantic time I spent in Rome. The first place I’d say I properly splashed out on an expensive bottle of juice. And any time I smell Eau De Pierlot I’m taken right back to the orange groves on Palatine Hill and a time when I was really happy.

13.Describe a piece of sensory literature that is very magical for you.

Perfume by Patrick Suskind. A maybe obvious choice, but I was encouraged by a lady to read it. I like to think she seen a passion within me and knew that book would encourage it.

Scented Faith, Part 2

Lhasa, the capital city of Tibet is no usual city and I’ve been to a few. First of all, it sits on the roof of the world making it one of the highest cities in the world. It is really old, going back to 600 AD. It is the most spiritual place I’ve been to and the one that smelled the most unusual.

As this post is a two parter, catch up on Scented Faith, Part 1.

I arrived in Lhasa on 18/08/2007 at around 8pm on a dark, wet, warm evening. I had spent the previous two and a half days travelling by train from Hong Kong. I was hungry, a little tired but mostly, excited beyond belief. I spent the next hour deciding carefully where to eat as I had spent not only those previous two and half days on a train, but they were two and half days of eating Cup Noodles, morning, noon and night. I found a great little restaurant and ordered a plate of chips, they came to me bright yellow! Cooked in something I have no idea what was but it made them taste and smell ravishing the way only chips can do when you’re starving.

The next day after much rest and rain I walked the streets and explored a little. It goes without saying, I can’t describe the smell of the air that high up… It was thin, the air lacking oxygen, I noticed that my breathing was a little more rapid. However the smell of the city was in some parts, clean, pure and open. Standing in front of the Potala Palace or walking around the gardens behind it, things were like the freshest of air mixing with the green, cool water from the ponds.

When I wandered around the alleyways and narrow streets surrounding the Jokhang Temple the smells were more pungent, full of people, a little more fetid and rotting. You could smell meat, yak meat. If you stepped out from here and more-so into the main streets and roads there are butchers that have the open store fronts spilling into the street. The minced yak meat sits in troughs on the counter. No fridge. No sawdust. No Fan. Just warm meat, gently sweating. Maybe the butcher will shoo away the flies with that looks like the hairy tail of a yak.

Across the street I remember passing by an eatery every day, sometimes on multiple occasions where ceramic pots would sit on a cooker in the street. The brown, blackening pots would be bubbling away and the foulest vinegary, eggy cloud would be pumping out of each one. I love eggs, and I love vinegar, but cooking with who knows what else this stuff made me heave. There are few odours that make me heave but this was one.

When I’d be back in the alleys I came across a court yard and found the same stone ovens that were in the Barkhor Market. In it people throw in cypress plants, grasses and (after looking this up) zanbaa roasted highland barley flour. All of this creates an auspicious smoke. I’m not going to write in many words about the deities and pleasing of the mountains and rivers these offerings make, but what I will say is that it was fascinating. People would just throw the bag and it’s contents into the fires and the clouds would rise. I think I remember something similar to frankincense, but as I’m looking up photos to recall my time there, I’m trying my hardest to recall the smell too.

Over the course of my time spent there I visited a few monasteries, nunneries, temples and palaces. I seen unbelievable rooms, filled with row upon row upon row upon row of scrolls and prayer books. In another room there’d be little glass cabinets lined with dolls of all sizes of monks and holy men. These would fill the walls from floor to high ceiling. I can only hazard a guess as to how old some actually are… and what they must be smelling of. I vaguely remember the dusty attic-like smell to these rooms. Over hundreds and hundreds of years some mouldiness is irreplaceable. What I can near-vividly recall is the smell of yak-butter candles and how it would smoothly fill the room with a slightly sweet, yet fatty butter quality. The occasional waft of incense would join-in in this mixture… what a smell. And some of the candles too are huge. Large and wide metallic vases with ten to twenty wicks burning away on the surface.

I also remember the smell of another not so pleasant odour, yak-butter tea. Yes, buttery, sweet, creamy, milky tea that apparently doesn’t taste that bad, but the smell of yak-butter in tea form was a little too much for me.

I remember another day having tomato soup in the hostel I stayed in. I had never had tomato soup like it. Stuff your Campbell’s and Heinz , this stuff cured my travel sickness and the garlic bread it came with was unbelievable. Maybe it was the altitude!

Towards the end of my time, I visited the Drak Yerpa Monastery. In a very, very personal moment for me this place was the farthest removed from home I’d ever been to. It was the highest point on earth I’ll ever be to and it was a place that fulfilled a personal fantasy and dream come true of mine.

The monastery itself is scattered around the mountains and rock faces of the Himalayas. Buildings the size of a house are noticeable and small little huts the size of sheds rest off the vertical rock and they’re all accessed by paths and steps winding up and over and round the mountains. There’s a little plateau at the foot of this monastery and it’s a green, lush meadow where the cloud’s moisture gathers and the smell of absolute stunning air is. This is heaven’s air right here. I have a thing for picturesque meadows and this was one.

As I walked the paths and seen stone ovens burning cypress beneath me, I’d look around and see it, a fascination come true, that of a monk, living in a cave in a mountain, with nothing but a door in the rock to set it apart. And the smell, of course there was a smell. In his room there was a bed, the air was moist and yak butter candles were lit. The rock of his walls and roof were dry, but you could smell the wetness and a slight dampness. There was even a little radio there. And, as he sat on his bed reading his prayers I thought to myself, “You’ve seen it.”

Scented Faith, Part 1

Last Saturday I made my weekly trip into town. It was post-payday so I thought, brilliant! I could treat myself to a new bottle of perfume, some coffee, some books, then read those books and drink that coffee, and a little stroll around Dublin—places I’d never been to before, that sort of thing.

Frankincense & Lavender

Frankincense

As I stepped off the LUAS and made my way through the hustle and bustle of Grafton St, the most out-of-place smell past by me—that of burning frankincense.

What a smell. It had trigged instant, deep-rooted memories. Any given funeral I’ve attended had burning frankincense at the service. When the priest tosses the thurible back and forth, to and fro and the plumes rise and sway, swirl and twirl, I remember being hypnotised by the act in itself. I would watch in silence with everyone else, but that smell, it would own and possess me for a few seconds before my thoughts turn to sadder things.

My friend (another Liam) described frankincense to me in one of the most perfect ways:

The smell of burning frankincense is so dry and arid and resinous but airy at the same time, sometimes it seems to disappear and reappear, it’s diaphanous.

A “light, delicate odour, disappearing and reappearing” makes me think about, well life and death in a way—not that I would associate frankincense as a deathly odour, but in the right quantities this description is fitting. It’s hard not to ignore the strong relation frankincense has to religion and faith—but I thought it was interesting that like frankincense being delicate, disappearing and reappearing, it’s a bit like life isn’t it? Life is delicate. It goes away. It comes back again. Doors close, and windows open.

Lavender

A spiritual friend of mine would light lavender candles when doing tarot readings for her clients. Lavender is a relaxing material, it soothes and calms the mind and emotions. It also is reputed to aid a comfortable and restful sleep—I hope my friend doesn’t use too much with her clients! (Though I know that too much lavender would have a negative effect—so what I’m doing here is trying to make a joke… anyway).

My granny, as I mentioned in another post, was a big believer in lavender oil. She was also a devout Catholic so I’m sure she was no stranger to frankincense either. My fondest memory of her is in actual fact, lavender oil itself. She would sprinkle a few drops on my pillow when she stayed over in our house—I would have to give up my room for a couple of days as she would take over my room—I’d be relegated to the sofa.

I like that she didn’t use it for any religious practices either. She simply enjoyed the smell of it more than anything I believe, and, I like to think that she also believed in the therapeutic properties of the oil. Why else would she sprinkle it on my pillow?

When she left I always remember her smell, the herbaceous, calming, indistinguishable odour of lavender would linger in my room for days. No TCP for her! No, she was an earthen lady, eating only organic, healthy, vegan—perhaps borderline health-freak, food. What I liked about her was these things, and how she’d look after me and my sister in her own way.

As I’m writing this post, I’m starting to think about other smells in religion, and how deeply embedded it is. Truth be told, I’m not an overly religious person, but, I believe in somewhere and sometimes, some people. I also believe it’s important to have faith in yourself. Everyone is entitled to whatever they like to believe, and I’m not the biggest fan of pushing ideas or beliefs on others, so I’ll not talk about that here. But, I thought it’d be nice to talk more about this so I’ve split this post up into two.

In part two, I’m going to write a bit more about my time spent in Tibet. The most spiritual place I’ve been, and the plumes that emanate from the capital city, Lhasa.