nosy girl
the erratic, aromatic tumblr of
nosygirl.net
Le Labo’s Neroli 36 is hitting the spot on these hot & stuffy summer days. I’m back in Wisconsin, where all the mosquitoes live, and though they lust after my blood, I think they dislike Neroli 36 (which makes me love it all the more). It smells okay with Deep Woods OFF, too, but don’t let that undermine my endorsement; I smell like I got a hug from the beach.

Le Labo’s Neroli 36 is hitting the spot on these hot & stuffy summer days. I’m back in Wisconsin, where all the mosquitoes live, and though they lust after my blood, I think they dislike Neroli 36 (which makes me love it all the more). It smells okay with Deep Woods OFF, too, but don’t let that undermine my endorsement; I smell like I got a hug from the beach.

We Smell With Our Mind « Bois de Jasmin

What Young Smells Like: A Cultural History

The amazing Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown has a perfume blog and, as expected, it’s awesome:

doylesmells:

“Have you noticed that teenagers all have the same smell?” My boyfriend asked, in what could have been the creepiest conversation-opener ever had he not promptly added some qualifiers.

“Like, I noticed it when I was teaching at a high school. And I notice it now, when the high school lets out and I have to walk through a crowd of them.” (The high school, non-creepily, is a block away from our house. You really do have to face the crowds, once or twice a day.) “There’s just that one, specific teenage smell they all have. It smells like… I don’t know. Like candy.” 

This conversation is my strongest argument yet for Why Smell Criticism Is Not Just Making Things Up At Random, or: Why Anyone Can Be A Smell Critic If They Have An Attention Span And A Nose. What my boyfriend had picked up on is one of the most-lamented facts of Smelling Things Today, which is the fact that an increasing number of fragrances are meant, very specifically, for very young audiences. And, because of how the marketers construe “young” (also: “female”) they all do smell the same. And they all smell exactly like candy.

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nevver:

A girl and her pizza.

See also: “Promotional DVDs smell like pizza when played" 

bollykecks:

Flower Arrangements by Parker Fitzgerald for Kinfolk magazine Vol. 7

spring fever flavor

(Source: wildthicket)

"When she bleeds the smells I know change colour. There is iron in her soul on those days. She smells like a gun." ~Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body                     
(With apologies to & appreciation for Slaughterhouse 90210.) I wanted an excuse to post this quote, and to let this photo commemorate the week I unsuccessfully attempted  to read every single Spring Breakers think piece on the internet. 

"When she bleeds the smells I know change colour. There is iron in her soul on those days. She smells like a gun." ~Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body                     

(With apologies to & appreciation for Slaughterhouse 90210.) I wanted an excuse to post this quote, and to let this photo commemorate the week I unsuccessfully attempted  to read every single Spring Breakers think piece on the internet. 

"wool sweaters removed in fall from the wooden drawers in which they’d spent the summer"

heidijulavits:

LETTER TO MY DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR

Hello! This is Heidi from apartment 34. I was wondering, do you have a cat and if so, do you so totally fail to change its litter box that the smell makes me feel like I live in your apartment, not mine? Or maybe did you die a long time ago? Are you maybe just dead in your apartment? To be fair to you, I’ve always had a vivid sense of smell. I can remember the smells of every one of my boyfriends—one smelled of flan, one of wool sweaters removed in fall from the wooden drawers in which they’d spent the summer, one of Pears soap, one of paisley (imagine what a paisley would smell like—like a father, I guess), one of puffed rice, one of coffee that’s percolated upward through the top of a skull. I once had a confused relationship with a smoker. I kept trying to get a sexual read off of him, but he just smelled like smoke. I deemed him unknowable and broke up with him. I wondered how anyone could fall in love with or want to fuck a smoker. It would be like falling in love with a bar or a restaurant (before the smoking ban) or with the traffic island outside of JFK. And who can eat in a restaurant that smells of bleach? There’s a popular restaurant near my house that stinks like a public swimming pool. I take my food to go. My son also has a strong sense of smell. He notices when I use a different body cream. He says, “you don’t smell like my mom.” This is what the smell of your apartment makes me want to say to my apartment—you don’t smell like my home. This doesn’t smell like my life. 

I am crazy about this paragraph and want to read loads more about Ms. Julavits’s “vivid sense of smell” and need to find out whether she’d be willing to do a Nosy Interview. [Thanks to @emilygould for making sure I saw this.]

"Hope in a Bottle," Andrew O'Hagan

image

"My daughter is 8, and she doesn’t care about scent. She smells lovely and biscuity and her mother bans perfume. That’s probably a wise move: her mother knows, like her father does, that the beginning of scent in bottles is also the end of innocence. Shouldn’t there be a time in a person’s life before yearning? Shouldn’t there be days before the onset of doubt?"

"A Spritz of Power," Frank Bruni imagines a line of congressional colognes:

"Tailor-made for preening, with a top note of sandalwood, a middle note of tonka bean and a base of self-righteousness."