Packaging; brunch; nail polish; sweet meat; hard-to-place perfume; plywood; upscale perfume; knish; charcoal; garbage; suburban shampoo; calamari; ceviche; beeswax; falafel.
— The smells of the Bowery, from Scents and the City at the New York Times. (found via note de tête at twitter)
I was just about to e-mail you this! The one that really confused me was “woman purposely wearing no scent” in Midtown South — so she smelled bad? She smelled like nothing at all? Did he know her, and if not, how the heck did he know it was purposeful? Did she LOOK like she should have been wearing perfume? So many questions!
That was weird! Also liked the “rum or cologne” in Hamilton Heights.
Ha! Maybe he meant the “baby’s head” smell—slightly dry-oiled, clean hair against skin cleaned with “unscented” soap (the smell of either lavender, rosemary and vegetable oils or the “french-fry–creamy” scent of the rendered, beef-fat tallow without masking agents added)? Maybe the totally unsweetened creaminess of “unscented” body lotions/products (but certain things are always added to cancel out the screeching, chemical bitterness of certain ingredients)? Hmm…
That was so much fun! I liked the mentions of “horse” and “dog”.
Every city needs such a map
I loved this piece when I found it in my paper this morning…and I think it would be way cool to map cities across the country!
It would be a fun website project…there’s something similar in Japan.
That’s a fun little article. Love the concept.
I’m laughing at “suburban shampoo,” however; as if urban dwellers never use the cheap stuff…
Yes, exactly! That cracked me up too.
Lovely. Makes me want to map my own city, too.
I read the woman purposely wearing no scent more as the kind of person who doesn’t wear fragrance as a statement of some sort, not someone who smells bad. There’s always the smell of hair, skin and clothes, even if it’s just faint whiffs of laundry detergent and clean human being, you know? You’d have to get close, though. Feels more like a comment on the kind of people inhabiting that neighbourhood, perhaps.
Possibly!
What tickled me most about this article is how often he mentioned that lingering “urinal/metallic/coffee garbage” smell. Yes. It’s called “garbage juice”. And it coats many streets in NYC (to be fair, it coats the streets of many super-urban metropolis’–except D.C. It’s creepy-clean in D.C. The subways smell like benzoin and lilacs. Even when it’s not cherry blossom season, so it’s not some sort of olfactive hallucination. WEIRD. ) Notice how often he mentioned “zingy” scents (ah, but is it a “Tocca-esque” powdery-vinaigrette zing or the “sauce-pan-being-smashed-with-metal-spoon” zing of “Eternity”?) Anyhow, that’s consistent NYC frag trends in a nutshell and it never goes away (at least, hasn’t in the past 10 years). Walk down nearly any street: Prada, Flowerbomb, Armani Code, Vera Wang, Miss Dior Cherie, Cashmere Mist, Flowerbomb, A Calvin Klein fragrance, Issay Miyake, DKNY Be Delicious, Ooo…Stella, Coco Madmoiselle, another Flowerbomb. Maybe, if you’re trailing someone a tad older than the “latte-caps-and-cardigan” set, you’ll smell Chanel No. 5 (yawn), oooh Fleurissimo, Chanel No. 5. Hum. Near Columbia: Books and sweet-metal, someone’s wearing “Infusion d’Iris”, maybe Keihl’s musk. More rarely, Shalimar (and that’s the edgier of the choices…)
But every once in a while, you pass another hidden in the crowds: that creamy whiff, followed by something tart but basalmic, a smashed-floral potion that seems borne from euphoric joy, angst or agony–distinctive, such character, fascination, a painting!–tilting heads in confusion, your eyes meet in surprise with almost joyous acknowledgement of one another. Then you pass, sillage trailing like swirling fingers, shaking hands. You’ve just met another one of “us” and with an olfactive nod, encouraged them to continue nasal-shaking bloodless creatures back to life—reminding them of how exquisite, miraculous or cosmically unlikely living and breathing really is…
Disclaimer: I’m of the camp that it doesn’t have to be pricey to be fascinating and full of life (or death, if you love rocking the goth-poe aesthetic
). So, the above cannot be read in a blase, snooty tone; some of the most gorgeous scents I’ve smelled have been under $20. Some, even more gorgeous, have been under $10. It’s just funny how cities do have collective smells and how people who become a piece of the greater city-animal, begin to take on eachother’s scents—almost wearing some scents like it’s a requirement as an active member of a cheerleading squad. Peppered (Chance-Chanel!), musky-sweet (Angel!) and metallic citruses seem to keep the worker-bees pumped. In the same sense, maybe dirty-civet-coffee mixed with tear-laden roses and lilies isn’t the “pick-me-up” most people need to get them through the work day…
Hey, you need to write an article!
Thanks, Robin!