Trina Machacek: Our noses have preferences

It’s July. Outside I have some strategically placed Russian Olive trees that bloom this time of the year. Every year. I can tell through spring and into summer by wonderful smells that float in my yard how far we are into summer. But the Russian Olive trees are by far my favorite. When the mornings are calm with just the lightest poof of a breeze the honey thick air moves around and makes me smile as I go about doing watering and living in the season’s moments.

That brought about this to my pea brain. Why do we like certain smells? I’m talking more than just taking a floating nose journey through the local candle store. That would be too easy. Well until I get in there. I have to sniffy every-single-jar! But. Yes, but let’s not sniff at this “but.” HAHA if someone was to point at you, putting you on the spot, asking you what is your favorite smell? My money would be that you automatically without even thinking about it, knowing above anything else what your number one smell is. My favorite, need to find a way to bottle that smell? Of course, it is sagebrush as it rains. Talk about heaven.

Then there are smells that we seem to just like and some of these can be a bit out there. Some noses just can’t get enough of the earthy smells. Turned ground as a plow brings up dark earth and puts tiny flecks of dirt in the air. Flecks that find their way to waiting noses. Someone will take a big deep breath because that luscious smell is nearly knock you over with a feather grand.

More girly and sometimes guy-ish are the foo-foo perfume nose ticklers. I knew a woman long ago that wore something called Shalimar perfume. I mean to tell you it smelled light and refreshing and I would always say I was going to buy some for myself. But I knew if I ever did it would lose its magic. A smell on you never smells the same on me or vice versa. So, if you sniff something on someone, just enjoy it as it smells on someone else. Of course, it has now lost its allure because as I Googled how to spell Shalimar, I was met with a question someone asked, “Is Shalimar an old lady perfume?” AARRGGHH.

The smells from our pasts are, hopefully, magical. Grandma’s kitchen or grandpa’s shop. I bet I can bring a smell to you by saying just two words. Ready? “School cafeteria.” See how that works? How about this one. Ready again? “Hoppe’s No. 9.” Thousands of men just smiled. We all have something that will elicit some memory. I have one. It’s pretty weird. So, what else would you expect from me?

Strangely enough when I was a kid, I loved the smell of gasoline. Yes, regular gasoline. I enjoyed going to the gas station just to get a whiff of the stuff. My dad filling the lawnmower was something I enjoyed. Even if the aroma was settled in corners of the garage where the sleeping mower was, sniffing it made my day. I always wondered why. Sometimes, some questions should be left well enough alone. Yes, I Googled, “Why do I like the smell of gasoline?”

Wait. Before I report on the answer let me just make this clear. I grew up in a time where yes there was weed and some drugs, but I was not in what one would call that crowd. Thank you, Lord. My friends and I maybe, maybe I say, tasted a tiny bit of beer. Wink. Wink. But no glue sniffing, pills or other things that were becoming the in thing to do. So then.

When Google told me this is why I like the smell of gasoline I about fell off my chair! “Gasoline activates the mesolimbic pathway. Benzene and other hydrocarbons, when inhaled, have a suppressing effect on the nervous system, which results in a temporary, euphoric feeling. It produces a pleasurable sensation that's not unlike alcohol or a host of other drugs.”

PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU. DO NOT TRY THIS OUT! IT’S NOT SAFE! It’s like finding out standing at the clothesline smelling clean sheets flapping in the summer breeze has just been outlawed. Like chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven makes you happy because there is some chemical make up between butter, sugar and chocolate that messes up your head for as long as the cookie smell lingers.

The happy smell of gasoline is a memory that has thankfully evaporated away. Maybe that’s where the line, “that’s a pretty heavy smell” came from.

Trina Machacek lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka. Along with her books she owns the Eureka County Star newspaper. Subscribe by going to www.theeurekacountystar.com.