God damn it, advertising can be powerful. I mean, not that I would ever buy some stupid crap because I saw it advertised on TikTok, of all platforms…that place is rife with over-hyped junk and over-painted hawkers (the term “influencer” makes my toes curl, no joke) and I’m not pathetic enough to fall for their BS.
Until I was. What got me: It was the yummy sounding scents that mean spring and sunshine and a breeze up your skirt. It was the arty images of grasses waving and glitter on the water and dandelion seeds in her hair. Damn it if a company that makes earthy perfumes didn’t grab me and hold me down and whisper sweet nothings against my forehead while I typed my credit card number into their website.
God damn it if in a frenzy of spring fever, I didn’t buy a sampler of 10 wee bottles so I can “find my signature scent” –the one that will make heads turn and noses flare and passers-by wonder who I am (clearly someone special) and wish they’d been to whatever sun-kissed spot on the map I’d just visited. (I’m not a winter person, as you may have guessed.)
Was this just me jumping on a popular thing on a popular platform, to feel a part of the youth culture of today? In economics there’s a phenomenon known as FOMO, or “fear of missing out”—it’s an emotional response that often drives people to buy a stock that’s skyrocketing; as the price reaches all-time highs, people take the leap regardless of what math and investing sense and even past experience might say about its future trajectory.
That’s what happens on these social media marketplaces. There are many trends, but some of them zoom to the moon and innocent scrollers see them rising and want to grab a seat, not be left behind watching vapor trails dissipate in the sky. Even knowing a trend’s star will be short lived, one wants to nab it and, to continue abusing metaphors, bask in its twinkle.
Me, I thumbed by the wide-legged jumpsuits, the crochet kits, the eyelash serums, the hand-knit Sherpa hoods, even the dog products—nope, nope, nope, nope. I flew through the stupid giant sippy cup for grownups (WTF people?) and every makeup product promising to shave off 10+ years. I saw beyond the crisscross shapewear and European hair clips and that spinning toilet brush.
But the idea of the smells of nature in a bottle, that stopped me. I remember well classics like Chanel No. 5 or, more vivid, whatever affordable perfume I bought from JCPenny in the mid-80s that’s still in my closet, 1/3 used. (I DID get beyond Love’s Baby Soft, finally.) I’ve evolved since, now taken in by nature’s notes. Today’s advertisers crept into my soul with words like sage and bergamot and cedar, grapefruit zest and fresh pine and whatever vetiver root is. Desert wind, sandalwood, aquatic notes, lily rain, black amber. Who wouldn’t want to wrap themselves in the blankets of these words, especially in miserable February, and as a bonus emit deliciousness with every step?
Scent is such a provocateur. It tells stories, it conjures memories. It worms its way deep. An exciting scent can send you traveling. A familiar scent can carry you home.
Speaking of home, an aside that I probably shouldn’t admit here: As a kid I found a floral-smelling spray in my mom’s closet that I’d spritz on my wrists and behind my ears before school, feeling very sweet and sophisticated. I didn’t know what “feminine deodorant spray” meant, apparently.
Actual scents aside, the words, the ones you can smell or taste, seem to have the most power over me. They, like the scents themselves, conjure an image that’s hard to resist. Youth, ease, fresh faces, no worries, endless possibility. You’d think I’d be immune, as I know the strength of language and employ it myself to influence others. You’d think. And yet, deep in the winter blues, shivering at my desk, the mirror telling me things I’d rather not know, those words are a breeze slipping among meadow flowers or that first deep breath one takes by the sea, and I’m powerless. I don’t think its FOMO that got me. It’s the ahhhhhhh of magical thinking and of seasons to come.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
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Photo by James Lee from Unsplash
You got me, now I want some!
You had me at bergamot. We humans too often underestimate the importance of olfaction. How it can motivate us to do all sorts of things and even transport us through time. May you catch a whiff of Daphne or Sweetbox in a garden near you soon, those winter blooms are harbingers of spring.