In another space, I close my eyes and it is as if I had stepped inside a quiet Mediterranean church on a July day: I can smell the wood polish, the dried flowers, but also, somehow, the cool of the stone, the soft clunk of the door closing the deep-pile hush that builds over centuries of whispers.
This is a revelation. Whatever the odour equivalent of being tone-deaf is, that’s me.
— Jess Cartner-Morley visits the exhibit Perfume: A Sensory Journey Through Contemporary Scent at Somerset House in London. Read more at Perfume genius: how fragrances help explain the world at The Guardian. Hat tip to Pyramus!
