I’ll admit I was a little irritated when I read the results of a study on what smells we adults most associate with our mothers: laundry detergent. Could the respondents have been more cliché? Are mothers really trapped in the cages of domesticity even in our minds? Didn’t the old lady do more than clean up?
So I thought about it for three seconds and realized that the one smell that makes my eyes-lids droop and my arms feel floppy and my head want to burrow into my mother’s sagging yet still ample bosom is this: Liquid Tide (with color-safe bleach alternative).
How could that be? My mom was a feminist! I did my own laundry! When I think back on my mother, I don’t imagine her in an apron with her washboard and clothespins. I’m thinking office work! I’m thinking ‘80s shoulder-padded power suits! I’m thinking restaurant dinners five nights a week! But uncap the lid on that reddish-orange one-gallon bottle and I’m back in a freshly laundered pair of Brittania jeans and tuxedo shirt basking in the glorious attention of Mom.
Dad doesn’t fare much better in terms of scent memory originality: cigarettes and Right Guard. I’m practically reading the paper on his lap right now.
As for my kids? I’d like to believe they’ll think of me at the first hint of sautéing garlic. More likely, coffee breath and the subtle fragrance of email will return them to their idyllic childhood.
Strollerderby’s Karen Murphy associates Old Spice with her dad and chalk dust with her teacher mom. She’s sure her kids will think of her anytime nag champa incense is burning.
Cryitout Mike’s dad smells like Canoe and Old Spice, while his mom smells like Jazzercise and endless loops of "Take me on" by A Ha! He says of his daughter: “In 30 years, Emmeline is going to say I smell like coffee and neglect.” My kids will see yours in group therapy, Mike.
Readers, name your smells.
