My hypernormal sense of smell was always a mystery to me. Why do I remember, for instance, the tangy aroma of my great-grandma’s blackberry jam? And the rubbery reek of new sneakers, why does it cue up the memories of my own first pair? For a while, I didn’t think my olfactory abilities were any different than anyone else’s. After all, it’s not something that is commonly explored by kids or adults. Yet, I was constantly distracted and bewitched by odors that seemed to leave others indifferent.

Standing on line as Sephora, my friend and I were chatting about perfumes. Ally floated a theory that to most women, fragrance is sort of like eyeshadow: packaging and name on the bottle are as important as what’s inside. I couldn’t believe it. Eyeshadow, lipstick, hand lotion - attractive exterior can sway my vote, but perfume? How could anyone like it simply because it’s cute and by Gwen Stefani?

Then I saw a film that gave me a deeper insight. Perfume: A Story of a Murderer is a dark fairy tale of a disturbed young man who is so obsessed with smells, he murders 11 women to create the ultimate perfume - to surprising results. Although killing sprees are not exactly my thing, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was a little bit like Grenouille.

To me, smell is very associative, almost visual. Certain odors can cause flashbacks and conjure up daydreams. I remember riding on a train once, with this guy sitting next to me. He had the most hypnotic, tantalizing scent about him: it was familiar, yet I couldn’t put my finger on. It wasn’t cologne - that would’ve been way too easy -  I think it may have been his leather bag. I was so mesmerized, I could barely refrain from talking to him. I didn’t, of course; what would I say? Excuse me, sir, but I can’t seem to stop sniffing you? Heh.

Perhaps it’s true that majority of the female population really does wear perfume like eyeshadow, but I also know a few who have a ’signature scent’. These are the women who proudly wear the same fragrance the entire lifetime, and never commit adultery with another concoction. I see this as yet another enigma of femininity.

To me, the process of choosing perfume has been almost ritualistic. Every year or so, I venture out in search of a new fragrance, for the memories attached to the old one have become too overwhelming. Moving on to a new scent is like moving on: you are no longer you, but the improved, not-afraid-of-new-experiences you, someone who flirts with strangers and laughs in the face of danger. Perfume is re-invention. When the time comes, I go to Sephora, the olfactory heaven, and spend half an hour sniffing vials of all shapes and sizes, with different designer names attached to them. I don’t look for anything in particular; it can be sweet, musky, fruity or conservative, with notes of honeysuckle or sandalwood - as long as it appeals to me. There are times when my search is futile and I return home empty-handed. But if I’m lucky, my nose will detect a scent so delectable, so divine, that I’ll float home feeling more feminine and gleeful than I ever thought was possible!

Smells of the past:

1. Juicy Couture 2. Aquolina Pink Sugar 3. Ralph Lauren Hot 4. Nanette Lepore 5. Jessica Simpson Dessert 6. Liz Claiborne Curve 7. Burberry London 8. Issey Miyaki L’ea D’Issey 9. Faerie Smak Smell? in Pie Crust (not pictured)

Deerlings: What are your favorite fragrances and how do you chose them? Does packaging/brand name matter? Could you wear the same scent for an extended period of time?

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