<p>My weird ones (and I have a story behind each one)</p>
<ul>
<li>Seasoning salt. I always smell it before using it.
When I was in fifth grade, there was this weird girl who used to bring seasoning salt with her to school in this tiny container (it looked like an old retainer case or something) and she’d dip her finger in and eat it, all day every day.
She always smelled like seasoning salt.</li>
</ul>
<p>Ever since then, I’ve always just sniffed seasoning salt if I’m about to cook with it. I don’t know why because that girl’s smell always made me nauseous in class and I hated sitting too close to her.</p>
<ul>
<li><p>Cinnamon and Nutmeg
My mom gave me some her leftover nutmeg and cinnamon when I first started college, but because we were feeling particularly ghetto–instead of putting them in a container, she just stuck both in separate Ziploc bags. The cinnamon and nutmeg look identical to each other so I always have to smell it to see which is which–but for some reason, I now like smelling both of them.</p></li>
<li><p>Pumpkin pie fragrances/candles/etc.
When I used to work at Nordstrom’s (at the time, I was in the men’s fragrance department) and this crazy weird man comes up to me and asks if I have any pumpkin pie flavored cologne (I know, right?).
I told him we don’t carry it but Bath and Bodyworks might. He got all excited and asked where the nearest Bodyworks is and then proceeded to tell me about how he was watching some show on National Geographic or Discovery Channel or something about how women are subconsciously turned on by pumpkin pie scent and he wants some so that he can get women.
Ever since then, I always try sniffing pumpkin pie scents to see if I’m turned on.
Haha, I know that’s really weird. It never works.</p></li>
</ul>
<p>The seasons changing.
Like the cold bitter smell of winter, the muddy smell of spring, the sweet, warm smell of summer, and the decaying earthiness of autumn.</p>
<p>Ice pops. Someone gave me this delicious body spray which smells exactly like ice pops. My friend legit tried to steal it from me when I let her borrow it, it’s that good.
Freshly dried clothes. They somehow smell like warmth.
My father’s drawer. It smells, like, I dunno, concentrated him, like hard brushes and old scents that no one wears anymore, and even though I frequently feel that I detest him, I still like it.
This wonderful smelling bath soap. I know how our olfactory senses are connected directly to our amygdala or whatever (I think. I’ve forgotten a lot of psychology in the last few days.) so it takes me back.</p>
<p>Pine forests.
The Pacific Ocean along northern California. I was very much attached to it growing up, and goodness glory gracious how disappointing the Atlantic smells in comparison. (It tends to be sweeter, not as refreshing and salty. Might be different farther north; I don’t think that I’ve been to a beach north of Delaware.)</p>