Olfactory Notes From the Field: Airplane

A symphony of smells. Or was it more like a jazz session?

Despite wanting to hibernate indoors during these cold winter months, occasionally I do find myself out and about using my nose to discover curiosities about the outer world. So I thought, on occasion, I’ll share what I’ll call Olfactory Notes From The Field. In today’s installment, I want to tell you about my recent experience on a packed plane ride from San Francisco to Chicago.

On this flight I was seated at the window in the back of the plane, next to a man and a woman both preoccupied with their phone. I prefer the window seat because I enjoy looking out and watching the world pass by. It helps distract me too. I’m a nervous flyer and having something to focus on is good.

On this particular rare, rainy day I was looking out my window, but instead of seeing what was beyond, I was mesmerized by the drops of rain running down the window. Each drop going in its own unique direction. Some moving slowly, merging with other drops, getting bigger along the way. Others racing down alone, unimpeded, fearless, determined to forge ahead. This game soothed my anxiety for a bit, at least during the takeoff and until we reached our cruising altitude.

I decided to close my eyes for a while to give them a rest, and that’s when it got really interesting. No sooner was my world dark, than a surprisingly captivating and colorful universe of smells emerged. That’s the beauty of olfaction; it finds you even when you’re not searching for it.

It began with a crisp, pointy, glossy, very confident medicinal odor rushing to my nose. In and out, forward and backward, up and down this staccato smell presented itself, as if dancing on a disco floor. Immediately I gathered that someone was opening their complimentary sachet of sanitizing wipes. I tangoed with the scent a little longer, listening to its nuances, which revealed a bright citrus top and a cooling, drifting sensation, as if unabashedly drunk and stumbling from corner to corner throughout the cabin. For the next 10 minutes a symphonic olfactory melody of sanitizing wipe smells played: the woman in front of me, the man next to me, then a few rows behind me.

Suddenly I’m distracted by another assaulting smell. This one comes at me with confidence and, unlike the last odor, hovers like a squatting protestor. The aroma is salty, fatty, matte, spongy, heavy, deep, and wide. Someone is undoubtedly eating their lunch. It has the signature smell of fast food being consumed nearby. Sure enough, I open one eye ever so slightly for confirmation, only to see a McDonalds burger and fries on the tray in the row across from me. Uggh. Yuck. I close my eyes again and try to divert my nose’s attention elsewhere.

Immediately, without warning, a rush of something utterly offensive and even more pungent invades my nose. It’s clear that someone, somewhere on this plane has passed gas. It could be the person next to me, or 20 rows down. That’s the funny thing about smells, you can’t be sure of the source. All I know is that it’s making my body instinctively recoil in discomfort. It doesn’t help that all of us are packed like sardines in this tin can in the sky. Nowhere to go, strapped in tight. I wonder what this person had for breakfast because the remnants are now seemingly unapologetically presenting as some sort of “gift”. I feel like I’m unwillingly taking part in one of those white elephant gift exchanges. The smell appears like a shrill, sulfuric, full-bodied crescendo and latches onto my nostrils for what feels like an eternity. Darn it, I can’t open a window!

Luckily, my attention soon gets diverted by a passenger walking down the aisle. My eyes still closed, head leaning against the window, I sense it might be an older woman because of the particular type of perfume that trails her. I can’t make the scent out exactly, but it whiffs of amber and vanilla: cloying, warm, dense, penetrating, long and loud. Something from the 70’s like Yves Saint Laurent’s Opium, or Guerlain’s Shalimar. Can a perfume reveal one’s age?

Over the next few hours, a cacophony of smells wove in and out, but my nose grew tired just like my eyes had before. I fell into a slumber, only to be woken by the sound of the pilot announcing we were soon landing. I looked out the window, focused in on the remaining water drops moving about, and breathed a sigh of relief when the tires hit the tarmac.

I thought to myself, what a joy it was to listen to the smells of the airplane. They revealed things I would never have seen or heard. I smiled as I disembarked, noticing the airline’s signature ambient scent being pushed throughout the cabin. Do they understand the power of smell?

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This week on my podcast An Aromatic Life:

In this week's whiff of wisdom, vocalist, piano teacher and aromatherapist Yuliana Kireyeva shares how to listen to scent. Yuliana explains how she listens to what she’s smelling and turns it into music.

You’ll also hear her play the piano and give her melodic interpretation of three scents: lemon, clove, and patchouli. Feel free to smell along!

If you enjoy this whiff, do spread the insight by sharing this episode with your friends and family. And don’t forget to subscribe to the podcast so you don’t miss a conversation.

Lastly, if you want to dive deeper into Yuliana’s work, why not go back and listen to the original full conversation - episode #77.

You can hear this episode and many more on Apple podcast, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.

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Have you checked out my Scent*Tattoo Project?

I’ve added a new section to my Substack called The Scent*Tattoo Project, which is a passion project of mine that I’ve been working on for four years now.

My aim is for the stories, the scent memories, to give you some connection and peace in the storm.

If you’re interested in bringing your scent memory to the project, send me a message and we can take it from there.