The scent of nostalgia

[RonW]

ahhh so many!

The scent of pelargonium immediately propels me into my grandma's glasshouse, where I as a very young lad, spent many a happy hour, sitting in a box/bench, filled with toys and old stuff. I can still hear the rain patter of the reinforced glass roofpanes. Oldfashioned cooking or a warming up coal/woodfed stove does the same into her kitchen.
Diesel/rubber/trucksmells propel me back to the days I spent with my dad in and around his truck; the only happy memories I have of/with him.

 

[Van-Wild]

Creosote. The smell immediately takes me back to my childhood and most importantly, to my grandads shed. Every year he would spend a week redoing the shed and all the fences and the veg garden edging.

That shed was a treasure chest of stuff for me as a child. A long work bench on one side, with all manner of hand tools scattered along its length. Oil cloths, tins with things in, it was a little messy but grandad knew exactly where everything was and as I helped him do stuff I slowly learnt the proper place for everything to.

On one shelf, high up was a small tin marked 'old nails'. One day after an afternoons toil with the strawberry bin, grandad and I were sat just inside the shed door with a glass of lemonade. He reached up to the shelf and brought down the tin of 'old nails'. Cracking the lid with a mischievous wink, he revealed a tin half full, not of old nails but of filterless cigarettes and a few matches. I watched as he struck the match off the floor and took a smoke. He looked like a man content.

So creosote, that's my nostalgia. And I wont hide the fact even now, in my 40s and with grandad gone over a decade ago, I shed more than one tear over that memory.

Sent from my SM-G970F using Tapatalk

 

[Wayland]

So many great memories here.

I heard somewhere that smells directly stimulate the amygdala which is a primal part of our brain connected with emotion and other instinctive responses.

I guess that is why it has such power to evoke strong reminiscences.

 

[Tracer1969]

The smell of metal, I was in the mid 90's responsible for a team fitters and welders, and we had to made 100 ton pipe supports in a short time.
We did a lot of overtime, but we had fun, worked hard and the scent of metal, being beams sawed or the smell of welding, allways remind me of this time, life was simple but satisfying and the friendship under the co-workers was great.
I have the same with music played in the mid 90's, we worked long hours, the music is different at night when everbody's asleep, when it's dark, and you're in a big shop alone or with a few people.

 

[Broch]

Different smells for different times of my life - some I will have forgotten until I smell them again

Plasticine – early school years in South Wales
Dead/decaying animals – childhood in N.Africa – that and the sound of dogs barking at night
Deep heat – teenage school rugby years, sitting in the changing room anticipating the match coming up
Cutting fluid and hot metal – apprenticeship years in the gun factory and working on the lathe
Asbach brandy – on exercise in Germany and getting very very drunk!
Giorgio perfume – an intimate friendship
Woodsmoke – a thousand campfires, and no bad memories

 

[Wayland]

I suspect many of us have a catalogue of such memories.

Tastes trigger me too on occasions. That sweet "mixed spice" blend that many places sell was a favourite with my Mum when she was baking. It gets me on both scent and flavour.

 

[Man of Tanith]

Combination of WD-40 on old tools, linseed oil and pine being cut

straight away i am in my grandad's workshop whilst he makes whatever latest imagining a 7 yr old grandson has dreamt up.

i still have the carpenters bag and tools he was still using when he passed away and i swear it still smells like him

 

[Wayland]

My maternal Grandad used to make his own beer, and the smell of yeasty hops brewing, not finished beer, reminds me strongly of him.

I sometimes smell it when passing a brewery and it gets me every time.

 

[Broch]

Ye gods, I wouldn't want to try and get back to my tent in the dark after a few beers in that camp

 

[Wayland]

Ye gods, I wouldn't want to try and get back to my tent in the dark after a few beers in that camp

Aye, they were fishermen rather than camp builders that's for sure.