Why Write About the Sense of Smell?

Why does it even matter?

I’ve thought long and hard about doing this… musing about a sense that’s seemingly irrelevant in our culture today. Sure, COVID put smell back on the map, for the first time in centuries, I would argue. Seemingly out of nowhere, millions of people realized their sense of smell had served a purpose in their life - to give them flavorful food, allow them to have rich, multi-dimensional experiences, make them feel closer to others, and perhaps most importantly, allow them to feel safe in their environment, knowing they can detect if their milk or meat has gone off, or if there was a fire or gas leak nearby.

Suddenly, in an instant, for many all that was gone. Life turned gray, dull, isolating, and less safe. It became glaringly obvious to most of us that the sense of smell actually mattered, with those having lost it admitting as much. Of course, if you’d been living with anosmia before then, you felt at least a little bit vindicated. I told you so!

So, how did we get here? Well, that’s a long story and I have a podcast episode about that if you’re interested. 

The reason I’m going to dedicate this space to exploring, elevating, and contemplating this misunderstood sense is because I won’t give up on it. I’m noticing that we’re slipping right back to where we were pre-COVID. 

And I can’t let that happen. 

Everyday I realize that we further de-emphasize the olfactory and focus more and more on the ocular. We’re obsessed with the visual. We use our digital devices as if they were an extension of ourselves. We use our eyes all day long - observe it for yourself over the next few days and you’ll likely realize how much you focus on seeing. It’s not lost on me that you’re reading these words right now using your eyes alone. But I have plans for that! I want to bring new, non-ocular dimensions and perspectives to the written word, so stay tuned. 

I’ll give credit to our sense of hearing, for giving sight a run for its money. We do use this sense to listen to music, podcasts, concerts, and maybe even the sound of birds chirping. Subconsciously, we try really hard to not let sight dominate our attention, and listening appears to be our great escape. 

But after that?

How much do you engage with your sense of taste? You might say, “Well a lot, actually!” But that’s a misnomer. You see, the pleasure of eating actually comes from your sense of smell. More than 80% of the enjoyment of food and drink comes from smell! Let anyone who can’t smell assure you that it’s true. They’ll tell you the experience is completely different. 

I would argue that only our sense of touch is as equally neglected and undervalued as our sense of smell. We humans are increasingly becoming more isolated, less physically connected, and intimate with each other. We hug less, we keep our distance, and we don’t shake hands anymore (thank you COVID). Even a simple touch of the arm to show we care is absent. 

Which leaves me with our sense of smell. Maybe you’re someone who really loves it and engages with this beautiful sense every day (my people!). Maybe you’ve lost your ability to smell, or never could smell (shout out to my anosmia friends!), but you still want to connect with it. Or maybe you simply stumbled upon this page and realize you don’t engage with your sense of smell much at all, but really should (the curious noses!). 

I welcome you ALL. I’m grateful you’re here and are willing to give this a try. I aim to make this space engaging, thought-provoking, and mind-expanding. I might not always get it right, and welcome the discussion. I hope to push beyond the status quo talk of perfumery, bad smells, and resulting sanitization that we find throughout our Western culture today (especially here in the U.S.!).  

For now, I’ll leave you with a small assignment. At the end of today, I’d like you to reflect on how much you used your sense of smell vs. your other senses after you got up this morning. Make a pie chart, write down a percentage for each sense, and put the piece of paper in your sock drawer. We’ll come back to it at the end of the year. 

Until next time, aromatically yours,

Frauke