Imagine that you're going over to a friend's house, and when you walk in the door, the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies being baked overwhelms you. Instantly, memories of being a young child come rushing back: your mom would bake cookies while you were at school so you had a treat when you got off the bus. Now, you're feeling all warm and fuzzy, and your friend's house feels more welcoming than ever before. This phenomenon is known as "odor-evoked autobiographical memory," and it deals with where in the brain memories and smells are processed. When you smell something, it goes through the olfactory bulb of the brain, which is closely connected to the amygdala and hippocampus. These two brain regions deal with emotion and memory, which may explain why smells and memories often get tied together. Here, I share some of my most vivid memories that are connected to smells:
Musty, comforting, earthy.
I'm taken back to being on my family’s old boat in Door County, letting the waves lull me to sleep. I'd wake up early, grab the box of Cheerios with my little hands, and eat the cereal out of a styrofoam bowl. My dad and I would take a jet ski ride before my mom and sister would even wake up.
Fresh, clean, new.
I'm taken back to the hallways of my elementary, middle, and high schools. I remember how coming back to school every September meant adapting once again to the scent of floor cleaner. Maybe others didn’t notice it, but I always did. It meant it was time to get back to business. It was time to exchange the long, hot summer days for mountains of work, but also to get back into a healthy routine.
Floral, sweet, fruity.
I'm taken back to my freshman year of high school, when I always sported Taylor Swift’s Wonderstruck perfume, no matter the occasion. I was Wonderstruck while I back-handspringed on the gym floor, I was Wonderstruck while I went on my first date, and I was Wonderstruck while I cried over boys in my 2003 Ford Escape. I still wear it sometimes when I'm feeling nostalgic.
Stuffy, wooden, metallic.
I'm taken back to standing on a stage, smiling ear to ear while the bright, hot lights shine down. I remember the countless times I’ve performed on stages since I was 3 years old. From my first dance to the song How Much is That Doggie in the Window, mascara and foundation caked on my face for the first time, to my last performance with First Stage, saying goodbye to the Todd Wehr Theater, urging myself to always remember what the dressing room looked like, what the air smelled like, and what the backstage walls had written on them.
Open, free, cleansing.
I'm taken back to waking up in a tent, stepping out of the door, and the first thing I saw in the morning being the breathtaking wilderness. I recall the first time I went camping with my friends. I had never gone with my family before, and I soon found out that I had definitely been missing out. No cell phones, no obligations, no stress. Just the sky, the trees, a ton of food, and the people I loved. After this, I developed a newfound appreciation for spending time in the great outdoors.
Cozy, homey, warm.
I'm taken back to holding a warm mug in my hands and attempting to feel awake and lively during the season that is the polar opposite of those adjectives. I went through a phase where all I drank was hot tea. I'd drink it in front of my fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, while watching the snow fall. I tried my best to learn to love my home state, even for it's less popular months.
Calming, tropical, welcoming.
I'm sitting here in my childhood bedroom writing this, reminiscing on the transformations the room (and myself) have gone through. I remember my small bed with the rails, and how often I would spill milk on the carpet. I remember the two beds, one for my sister and one for me, covered with pink floral pillows. I remember my bunkbed up against the wall, and how I used to hide my diary in the corner.
Certain smells always take me back to the memories they're associated with. The human brain's ability to do this is truly amazing, and I love the wave nostalgia I feel when it happens.
