If you read the previous blog (read here), I briefly discussed how scent is stored in the memory system.
The Unfiltered Power of Scent
Because of the direct connection into the brain, smells are often encoded along with the emotional state you were in when you first experienced them. Scent bypasses conscious filtering. Therefore, scent is stored whether intentional or not.
So, here’s a story about how I intentionally and classically condition a memory to be stored into a scent.
In 2000, I traveled to London, England. My first time away from home and out of my home country. My first stop was in a place called Chelmsford to attend my very first weekend-long music festival in the middle of a field. During this trip, I took a bottle of Curve perfume: something quick and within reach. This would begin a tradition in my life to take a perfume with me on trips to capture the essence of the country. If I smelled that bottle of perfume now, I’d imagine I would be back in the fields of Chelmsford with echos of Beth Orton and Coldplay playing from the depths of my hippocampus.
>> Actually, strike that! There are 2 more scents that will remind me of England. Without going too deep into it: most of my luggage had been lost (aka left behind at the Pittsburgh Airport). To make-up for the airline’s issues, the airline gave me a complimentary toiletry bag filled with essentials, such as a deodorant; toothbrush and toothpaste; a razor; and a small travel-sized DKNY cologne. As an American in the middle of a field unbathed, I used A LOT of that DKNY cologne! Further, after the weekend-long concert, my lost bags and I were reunited at the Rasool Court Hotel where I had taken my first shower, after an exhaustingly long weekend in a blazing hot field, using some sort of watermelon-scented bath wash, which was a new scent for me, and leaving me feel fresh and inspired in a foreign land. Those 3 scents can catapult me back to the euphoria I felt during August of 2000 immediately. <<
Giorgio Armani is for Italy only.
Fast forward a decade and a half later, I’m happy to report that my taste in perfumes improved, but so has my understanding about the mechanics of my intentions with scent.
My family tries to visit the shores of Giulianova once a year and always during the summer.
Italy: The land of heat and humidity where air conditioners are an insulting thought, and the spicy scent of the oleanders linger heavily.
For me, I can recall these blissful moments with one perfume and one perfume only: Giorgio Armani Si. Each night (after a day of basking in the warmth of the sun, digging my toes into the depths of the sand from its blistering top crust trying to find the coolness from below; making my way to the clear waters to swoosh and chase fish where life made every bit of sense of ease), I would finish my last preparation to leave for a long walk on the Lungomare by touching my skin with a spritz of Armani Si. Its heavenly and sharp notes of cassis, rose and freesia would hit my toasted skin and bring-about an air of something foreign and intoxicating (Explore the actual fragrance notes here).
Giorgio Armani Si is not for any other day. Giorgio Armani is for Italy only. If I want to get back to that piece of heaven on earth, I can spray the room and suddenly I’m there: mid-July, sweating profusely, and immersed in the Italian pace and sweetness of life.
And that, my friends, is how you make a memory with scent. Being intentional; being consistent; marking the moment distinctive among any other.
If a person can do this with a trip, imagine what a person can do with an event meant to instill a memory all in of itself: a personal gathering; a wedding; a ceremony.
