Hydraulic oil. I hate the smell of gasoline, but there's something I like about hydraulic and machine oil that I just can't put my finger on.
Tar pitch, pickle and flux. All things that are used in metalsmithing, smells that used to fill our basement so they make me feel really nostalgic. The pickle I'm talking about doesn't smell even remotely like the vinegar stuff you stick cucumbers in.
Fresh bread. This one doesn't really need any explanation because so many other people like it too. There's something warm, delicious and wholesome about it.
My mom. I think she smells good, not that I go around sniffing her or anything. Grandma used to give her perfume for her birthday and she used to wear a light dusting of it. She never put it directly on her skin. Once a week she'd spray a bit into her underwear drawer so the smell was never overpowering. She stopped wearing it when she found out that someone in her office was allergic.
Sterile bandaids straight from the package.
Darkroom fluids. Part weird, part nostalgia. My mom used to work at an art school and I spent the greater part of a couple summers there, alternately taking classes and spending time alone, amusing myself. I made several pinhole cameras and spent a lot of time in the darkroom.
Old family recipes. Because recipes written out on note cards by grannies with accents are the best, especially because they're high in fat, cholesterol and sugar.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Posted by erin at 11:49 PM