Old smells

The stairwell in my building smelled today. It probably wasn't different than it's ever smelled, but for some reason, today's stairwell aroma reminded me of Mike's old house. So as I carried my load of laundry down to the washers, I did that old "let the memories wash over me" thing. It was pleasing.

Went to S. Broadway today to check out the thrifting. Finally found a pair of second-hand black wingtips. Picked up a nice blazer and some brown pennyloafers, too. The shoes, especially, smell old, but that's probably because they are leather. Ended up a few blocks north for our Winter bar crawl some hours later. There, too, I encountered a smell that took me back, although I have no idea where back is.

Scent is very strongly tied to memory, and for as long as I can remember, I've been a "smeller."

I've created scent profiles for the homes of my friends and family, and compared them to other locations. I'll occasionally walk into a room somewhere and think, "Gods, this smells exactly like Bob and Kathy's house!"

Naturally, all of this leads me to the obvious question: Do I, and my lodgings, possess a certain je ne sais quoi?

Further research will be needed.