There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

I found a shirt today that I had brought from Edinburgh to California to wear, and the first thing I noticed as I slipped it on was the smell. No, it didn't reek from weeks of being stored in my suitcase, but had the fragrant aroma of home. The smell that I first notice when I hug my Scottie after not seeing him for months, the smell that wraps itself around me when I first crawl into the Edinburgh bed, and the smell that I recognise from 5,000 miles away as belonging to us. Along with that smell came the realisation that I could smell it, meaning that I have now been away from home so long that I've lost the us smell and probably have reverted back to giving off the odour of my parents' home- dog, wood smoke, horse sweat, a dash of incense, a dash of hay, and a hint of wind carrying the bite of snow.

It's funny how people create their own unique smell- the one that hits you when you first enter their house or get in their car or borrow their sweatshirt. I think you can tell a lot about people by how they smell, but maybe that's just me.

People who tend to drown their living space in those sickly artificial plug in fragrances, spray deodorisers, and potpourri bowls that are supposed to smell like fresh rain, ocean breezes, or sun kissed country raspberry lemonade tend to be anal neat freaks with something to hide. A two-faced false nature, or a rotting corpse in the basement? No one will know with their nostrils so clogged with the scents of Amazon Mist distracting them.

Those who tend to have more musky, woody scents around tend to be more laid back and unreserved. Especially since sandalwood incense helps to fudge the smell of other headier aromas, like the ones that result from smoking pipes or joints.

Then there are those who surround themselves with floral scents. Not the artificial kind from the potential ax murders, but from real flowers. They might also have an assortment of floral sprays, like lavender water, rose water, or lilac water hanging around for when they think their feet smell. I even had a friend who went and bought lavender scented bin liners and rose scented toilet paper. Very prissy, very girly, and very much sending subliminal scented messages that she was not of the common populace, but all together on another tier of high moneyed society. Plus, I have to say I secretly loathed the fact that she could afford FRESH bloody bouquets from Marks and Spencer's EVERY BLOODY WEEK!

I've always wondered what I smelled like from an outsider perspective. I guess I'll never really know unless something happens and I find myself living alone. I would like to think of myself as an earthy, woody, warm scent with dashes of clean breezes and a dollop of floras punctuating every now and then. Scottie claims that I have my own "Shady-Smell' that I give off when we're cuddling, but he's not very good at descriptions and can never pin point what it is about my smell that makes it mine.

I just hope I never become one of those peopel who smells bad and doesn't know it. Like my brother's college room. Musty from the mold accruing in cups, old lanudry that's festering in the corner, unwashed bedsheets, stale sweat, and hot plastic from the computer that is never turned off.

Blech.