Love Could Be in the Air

"Hermes", Praxiteles

There is one thing that has to do with olfaction, smells, fragrances and all that jazz, that I left out from my ‘review’ on Madalina Diaconu’s book. It refers to the interesting and – I won’t avoid the cliche – controversial issue of pheromones.

Back in Craiova, my home town, we have this neighbor, a woman in her 40s, who divorced her husband years ago, actually the first time I ever heard the legal term applied to one of the people I knew. It was huge and sent the old ladies living on the 1st floor on a gossiping frenzy. But I digress… the reason why I brought this on is because of something she told my mum at some point. She said that, when a single woman after the divorce, she used to (maybe still does) spray her apartment with some men cologne because it always gave her a good feeling. “A bit of a manly smell can’t hurt”.
Now before you start to question her degree of sanity, you should consider the following.

“Despre miresme si duhori”

Despre miresme si duhori
o interpretare fenomenologica a olfactiei
Madalina Diaconu, Humanitas, 2007

"Maria Magdalena" (1450), sfanta patroana a parfumierilor

Mirosul pare a izvori din insasi inima lucrurilor. Ne invadeaza fiinta si, luati pe nepregatite, ne proiecteaza intr-un alt timp si spatiu, cel atat de relativ, al memoriei, provocand reactii puternice si imediate, dezlipind parca o folie invizibila de pe obiecte si oameni si promitand, cel putin aparent, accesul nemijlocit la enigma lor.

Ce este mirosul? Ce semnifica? Ce implica? Cum il denumim? Sunt intrebari la care cartea Madalinei Diaconu raspunde, in ciuda obstacolelor pe care le intampina cercetarea acestui domeniu, pornind de la faptul ca nu exista cuvinte care sa denumeasca in mod propriu-zis mirosuri, obligand la utilizarea de metafore, comparatii, eufemisme, pana la caracterul subiectiv al oricarei experiente olfactive.

Mirosul a fost si, intr-o oarecare masura, continua sa fie cenusareasa simturilor, alaturi de celelalte simturi considerate “joase”, gustul si tactilitatea, spre deosebire de simturile “inalte”, vazul si auzul, distinctie ce se pliaza pe vechea dihotomie senzorial – cognitiv, ce implica judecata de valoare rau-bun. (1)

Jos si sus au fost, mai intai, coordonate pur fizice. Potrivit lui Freud, trecerea la postura bipeda a micsorat rolul olfactiei strans legata de sexualitate. Inaltandu-se literalmente asupra taramului mirosurilor fruste, fiinta umana cuprinde cu privirea un teritoriu mult mai larg, iar stimulii vizuali capata o importanta crescuta. (2)

dancing and a movie

Had a blast dancing today. Then watched Mamma Mia, the movie. Perfect ending for a sultry summer day. I mean, given the alternatives..: )

Meryl Streep and the rest of the cast are so fun to watch as they sing their way through the movie. And despite the occasional stumbling and some parts which sounded a bit weird, especially when the guys sang: ), it breathed something which was… genuine and sincere. Yeah, I have mixed feelings about Pierce Brosnan’s performance (some of the reviews he got for the movie are absolutely hilarious) but I loved Colin Firth and, as usual, my love chooses to remain blind regardless of what he does on screen: )).

Anyway, the light, Greece, the sea, the bubbly Meryl, they made my day.

Actually it’s midnight and I should go to sleep but I can’t just yet. Outside the crickets and the summer are deafening.

ban on good looks

An English act from 1770 cited in “Aroma: The Cultural History of Smell” (pg.163):

“That all women, of whatever age, rank, profession or degree, whether virgin, maids or widows, that shall from and after this act impose upon, seduce and betray into matrimony any of His Majesty’s subjects by the use of scents, paints, cosmetic washes… shall incur the penalty of the law now in force against witchcraft.”

Girl… uhm… MAID POWER!!!

somewhere near Stefan cel Mare

Although displaying already the stigmata of a metropolis – pollution, filthiness, overpopulation – Bucharest sometimes seems just a big conglomerate of small villages, of narrow cobblestoned streets, filled with houses of various ages.

This is why the smellscape of the city would have to include areas choked by fumes and dirt, as well as small oasis of rustic, raw, fresh scents which awaken a vague nostalgia in the city dweller, inspire bucolic fantasies in the passerby, and bring to life the ghost of the other, much older city which lies dormant beneath the layers of asphalt and concrete.

As it happens, my work assignment took me to one of the streets whose ends dissolve into big boulevards, a sort of a time passage between two black vortexes filled with hurried people and speeding cars.

On this small, quiet street, on the first floor of a house with many balconies, I sampled the flavors of the neighborhood. They were delicious and, alas, so rare in an otherwise generous city.

The smellscape there was like a Tiramisu: a soft, puffy, effulgent coating which hid delicious chunks of flavor. At first it smelled of warm cobblestones and wrought iron and, strangely, of something which resembled some slightly scented rubbing alcohol. Then came the delicious, crunchy smell of home-baked bread. Then the poignant flavor of freshly-dug soil.

It was like being on a trip far away from the hysterical city, a trip slowly coming to an end as I was tasting the warm, moist, sweetish smell of my own skin as it basked in the sun and creeping back into my old self.

basarabia bvd smells

I’ve been taking a stroll on Basarabia Bvd (the right side as you go towards Piata Muncii, to be really thorough). ‘Twas a hot afternoon but the air was sort of moist so I started sampling the smells.

The top and base notes were sort of similar, exuding a warm oppressive sandy, smoky scent from the exhaust fumes and the dust on the sidewalk.

The “bouquet” was much more complex though. A whiff of horse manure, a dash of stale water from the nearby lake, the smell of hot metal as I passed by the cars parked on the side of the road, the occasional pungent smell of sweat of some passer-by.

I was frantically sniffing for something more there, a bit of a personal touch, something that would give the uniqueness of this olfactory experience. But either my nose is not trained enough yet or there was actually nothing left on the bottom of that gray fragrance bottle.

smellscape

In the light of some new reading, I’ve thought of coming up with a smellscape of the city, a sort of transient map of the smells that are born and die everyday, hour, minute, in overcrowded Bucharest. As this is an individual project based on a subjective experience which focuses on ephemeral objects of perception, the result might not be relevant in the case of, let’s say, a more scientific approach.

It would be interesting to see however to what extent my olfactory perception of certain places in the city differs or resembles to that of others. Any input is welcomed: ).

Plus I’m curious of how Bucharest looks like according to the tip of my nose although I might have some idea already.

J. Douglas Porteous cited by Joy Monice Malnar and Frank Vodvarka in “Sensory Design” said “any conceptualization of smellscape must recognize that the perceived smellscape will be non-continuous, fragmentary in space and episodic in time, and limited by the height of our noses from the ground”. I can only wish my nose is high enough so I would survive to narrate at least the first episode of my olfactive tribulations.