Fifty Plus (50+) - Smells from the past

Beware: Off topic, but something to reminisce about as people over the age of 50 are wont to do.

I was tonight sitting and watching something on television that suddenly brought back beautiful nasal memories.

It brought back a time when I was a scout (as in the boy kind) and the wonderful aroma of hemp rope, linseed oil, hessian sacks and natural timber as emanated from the scout hall. There was not a single whiff of plastic in the air.

The trigger was watching Downton Hall, an English period drama that in this case showed a guy dressed in an English military uniform.

What about you? What pleasurable smells do you suddenly find yourself breathing in deeply -- in your imagination -- as a result of some other sensory cue?

Heh, another thread that could take on a life of its own. Good!

-When I was a boy, my granddad would cook up this fish in a large, cast iron frying pan.
The stuff stunk up the whole house, but damn, it tasted good! The smell lingered for a few days.

-School cafeteria made these "mini pizzas". They were actually English muffins cut in half, then topped with tomato sauce and cheese. Probably not the best thing to be feeding growing kids, but it was cheap and the kids ate it.

-Jiffy pop.

Yes...I remember that "Boy Scout" smell...

There was a certain perfume that my first wife wore...and we were divorced in 1978!

As a teenager, I used to spend vacations helping on a small farm (500 sheep, 20 cattle) in the Yorkshire Dales, a part of the world I always think of as heaven.

Early evening, a touch of mist, damp grass, something mineral from the limestone walls dividing the fields, and coal smoke from cottage coal fires being lit for the evening.

Lord!

The smell of Abbott Labs. Anyone from that area will know what I'm talkin' about.

When I was a kid in Switzerland, there was a certain plant, whose name I have no clue, that had a very pleasant aroma. Once in a very great while, I get a whiff of that aroma, brings me back to those days.

Vanilla.

Vanilla.

Funny that. Just after the war and I used to visit my cousins in London. There was a Vanilla factory about a mile from where they lived and on a Calm day- the whole area was scented with vanilla. They also had a Gas works aswell and that smell is still one that I remember. Along with the steam trains that I used to use to get to school on.

From many years ago, a men's cologne called, "Aqua Di Selva."

My grandparents lived on a Shelby County farm, but after my grandfather died, Grandma rented out the fields, barn, gravel pit, the works.
Hogs were raised in and around the barn, which was close to the house. Hog-farming creates a unique 'ambience' that you never forget.

Whenever I am riding in the Central Indiana countryside and smell pigs, I think "Grandma!"

Used to work summers in a rose house. The smell of a handful of varieties is hard to forget. Oh, and the perfume White Shoulders. I must have had three or four aunts that wore this, and my favorite grandmother.

In terms of real time smell, I ride specific routes because of the (in order of when they appear) lilacs, wild roses, honeysuckles.

[QUOTE=JanMM;12742277]Hog-farming creates a unique 'ambience' that you never forget.

QUOTE]

3 years ago, I think I posted, I spent my summer vacation bike touring in Denmark.

I think you have to be a bit pro-bike to think using all your summer leavedays in rain deluge and bacon-industry whiff is a delightful use of a summer vacation.

I'm trying...

My grandparents house always smelled wonderful... my grandmother was always cooking for everyone and one never left their home feeling hungry.

The baked bread a few times a week.

My grandfather only had coffee in the morning and would grind his beans by hand so besides that smell, there was also that sound.

And there was always this other smell... perfumed but not too strong that took me forever to figure out.

MY grandparents lived through the depression and never wasted anything... my grandmother saved soap chips in a little basket and her favourite was Dove soap.

And as far as perfume goes... Chanel No 5 does things to me and the reason for that goes back almost 30 years.

When I was young, my family would rent a house in Newport Beach, CA, every year for vacation. There was a very distinct "beach" smell of salt air, sand and seaweed. Typing this right now, I can smell it again.

The smell of a rain on the pavement after a hot dry spell takes me back to my summers as a young lad visiting my grandfather at his float house on the lake. Fresh bread and cinnamin buns baking in the oven reminds me of Mom.

Jade East, Lava Soap, The Helms Bakery Truck, Moth Balls, chocolate soda, the ozone from electric busses and street cars.

Riding along a stand of pine trees on a hot summer day.

This is sure to transport us all back to our childhood. Living on the outskirts of a small rural villiage as I grew up, there were many smells that, when I smell them today, I'm instantly taken back.
The smell of cattle manure freshly spread on the fields. New mown hay, the grain and corn harvest.
In the villiage were a sawmill, a feedmill, and a couple of woodworking shops, all adding their own aroma, and all of it very pleasant.

Warzys, deli...

I have two. When I was a boy, I lived in an all Italian section of South Philadelphia. Every fall, all of the "old men" would make wine. After pressing the grapes, in front of so many houses were many, many empty grape cases with purple stains. It was a wonderful smell and an acknowledgement of the expertise of the old world gentlemen. I still have my grandfather's press. The other smell was one that made all of us in the neighborhood drool. We spent a major portion of our free time in a playground. Right across the street was a bread bakery with a wood oven. The smell of the just baked bread would waft over to the playground. The two kids whose parents owned the bakery would run home, grab a couple of loaves and bring them back to us. Was nothing better than just chewing into that hot crusty bread all by itself. We would get back to whatever game after the bread was gone. I miss those days.

The smell of low tide along the salt marsh. Just thinking of it draws a vision of late afternoon and the skimmers flying through and a young me clamming or snorkling for scallops, mussels or something. I left it long ago but a salt water marsh smelling of the outgoing tide will never be gone.

There are two smells that remind me of being 4 or 5 years old (circa 1965), when my parents owned a boat and every weekend in the summer we'd go water skiiing on the Allegheny River with a bunch of their friends.

- there's a type of Coppertone sunscreen I use now that smells exactly like the Coppertone sun tan lotion from those days

- there's a generic similarity to the smell of cheap domestic lagers (which these days I do my damndest to avoid) that reminds me of the Piels, Michelob, Schaeffer, or Iron City that my folks used to have on those boating trips.

There are two smells that remind me of being 4 or 5 years old (circa 1965), when my parents owned a boat and every weekend in the summer we'd go water skiiing on the Allegheny River with a bunch of their friends.

- there's a type of Coppertone sunscreen I use now that smells exactly like the Coppertone sun tan lotion from those days

- there's a generic similarity to the smell of cheap domestic lagers (which these days I do my damndest to avoid) that reminds me of the Piels, Michelob, Schaeffer, or Iron City that my folks used to have on those boating trips.

My father was a die-hard Piels man. That might be explained by the fact that he was Scottish. :p

When I was 4-5 yrs. old (circa pre-1965), we lived in a house with an attic that was so close to the roof I was the only one in the family small enough to walk around up there. It became my retreat and where I kept my beloved doll-house. The smell of hot, dry wood in the summer always takes me back there as does the sound of rain on a roof.
Come to think of it, the hours spent in the heat of that attic have probably contributed to my ability to now ride happily along on my bike when temperatures soar to 99 degrees.:lol:

My grandparents lived on a Shelby County farm, but after my grandfather died, Grandma rented out the fields, barn, gravel pit, the works.
Hogs were raised in and around the barn, which was close to the house. Hog-farming creates a unique 'ambience' that you never forget.

Whenever I am riding in the Central Indiana countryside and smell pigs, I think "Grandma!"
:lol::lol: I'm sure she'd be just thrilled to be associated with that "scent!"
I suppose someday my future grandchildren will associate the smell of a sweaty bike jersey with me!

Our house was near a creek and there was a woods behind us also I can still smell that cool but humidity laden air as it wafted into the window of my bedroom and went over me. One of the nicer memories of my childhood as opposed to some I would rather forget but that's a good one

I'm so glad for this thread as I was growing weary of crotch posts. So we now have hogs and manure which I deem an improvement.

I was born in Brooklyn, NYC. There was a Hersey chocolate plant in a neighborhood where my parents friends lived that scented the entire area. If I think Brooklyn I think chocolate. If I think chocolate I think Brooklyn. I actually grew up in a very rural area of New York and worked on a dairy farm during high school. All us farm kids smelled of cow and if I now drive past a dairy farm, when I can find one, brings back those youthful days.

When I was young, my family would rent a house in Newport Beach, CA, every year for vacation. There was a very distinct "beach" smell of salt air, sand and seaweed. Typing this right now, I can smell it again.

Growing up as a Southern California beach kid, I share these same memories. The 2nd smell memory for me is the fresh pine scent from the local mountains.

When I was 6 to 12 years old, my dad and an uncle jointly owned a small 18' wooden fishing boat, which sat in my back yard when not in the water. It had a forward hatch where the flotation gear was kept, but I commandeered it to use as a hideout. It always smelled of oakum and linseed oil and the place to me was sort of another planet where I forgot the humdrum and sometimes terrible 1950's world.

The other smell that takes me back is the smell of lilies-of-the-valley. I'm not usually one for such sweet smells as this. We had a patch of these plants on the north side of the house which would bloom for about a fortnight, and they kept it up for many decades without any horticultural attention, not even watering. They bring me right back to my early youth, to a safe place.

From my childhood -

The good:
A wood fire outdoors in winter.
The late February aroma in the sugarhouse as a wood fired evaporator labors to turn maple sap into syrup.
Inside a barn after the new hay crop has been brought in to mix with the pungency of manure from the cattle below.

The bad:
The smell of fear.
The lingering odor of mediocrity.
The stench of failure.

And as far as perfume goes... Chanel No 5 does things to me and the reason for that goes back almost 30 years.
Oh, oh, oh... Chanel No 5... there is literally nothing like it, nor anything that approaches it.

All really wonderful posts, many of which I can identify with.

I am a former journalist and editor, and I still get deep pangs of regret I am not still in the industry when I walk past a printery and catch a waft of the ink and newsprint.

In terms of excitement...

I also used to hang around dirt oval speedway, and the sharp but sweet smell of methonal exhaust that stung eyes and combined with the roar of unbridled V8s in sprint cars still makes me dizzy with awe.

Oddly, I thought I would have associated similar smells with Formula One car racing, but for some reason, the exhaust from those cars was never obvious.

For me the Boy Scout smell was slightly musty canvas from backpacks and tents (no nylon tents in those days).

Other evocative fragrances for me include cut grass (golf courses) and the smell of earth, which takes me back to childhood football playing. Lots and lots of tackles with my face down in the grass and dirt. And the slightly skunky smell of your hands after playing a round of golf with cheap grips.

And if I carry my bike inside the car, the summer sun will inevitably bring out the strong odor of the rubber tires, which never fails to remind me of bike shops.

BTW, Downton Abbey was a fantastic show.

I was riding past the Shasta (maybe?) soft drink bottler in Charlotte NC, many years ago. I can't clearly remember the name of the bottler, but I will never forget the smell. It was a hot summer day and they had just spilled maybe 50 gallons of chocolate syrup as they were unloading a tanker truck of the stuff, it had covered the entire curbed truck pad.

We had to stop right by the spill in our car without air conditioning (remember those days?) and wait for a train. The smell was... there is no describing it, you had to be there.

A new can of coffee!

It's hard to describe the influence my maternal Grandfather had on my development. He was no better educated than most folks from Juniata county., Pa circa 1882, but he was surely one of the wisest men I've ever known. Most of what I know about respect, honesty, and integrity I learned from him in the process of his teaching me to use his father's muzzle loading squirrel rifle properly. He had a distinctive aroma to him that seemed to be a mix of equal parts Hoppe's #9 black powder solvent, Old Spice after shave, and saddle leather. To this day, the smell of any of the above brings back fond memories of times spent with him at the range and lessons learned by example.

One other smell that I remember from childhood was the smell that used to come from the old Nabisco plant we'd pass on the way to my grandparents' house. It was like a mix of fresh baked bread and Lorna Doone cookies, and it only happened occasionally. When it did, my sister and I used to beg whoever was driving to take us over to that place, but our wishes were never granted.

Of course both of these scents are long gone, but the memories they engender will most likely stay with me until I die.

Beemans' gum :D

http://www.hometownfavorites.com/beemans-gum.asp

Beemans' gum :D

http://www.hometownfavorites.com/beemans-gum.asp
Teaberry gum too. My aunt from Dayton Oh. always had a couple packs of that gum and I loved it. I would buy it sometimes but it wasn't the same unless she gave it to me. Can't get it anymore but I've seen the Beemans and Clove.

Teaberry gum too. My aunt from Dayton Oh. always had a couple packs of that gum and I loved it. I would buy it sometimes but it wasn't the same unless she gave it to me. Can't get it anymore but I've seen the Beemans and Clove.

...and the taste of Sen-Sen...little black licorice mints :eek:

http://www.candyfavorites.com/sen-sen-pack?gclid=COCmr5avpKkCFWcZQgod9S0ctA

When I was young, my family would rent a house in Newport Beach, CA, every year for vacation. There was a very distinct "beach" smell of salt air, sand and seaweed. Typing this right now, I can smell it again.

My grandparents lived in Newport Beach on one of the channels. Know the smell well. Add stale cigarette smoke, diesel, and low tide to the mix. Separately they are bad smells, but together meant summer at the beach.

Gear oil. My grandfather loved cars. We went to junkyards on occasion. The smell of 80-90 gear oil brings it back instantly.

Cool thread!

When my siblings and I were young, we spent part of each summer at the homes of both sets of grandparents; it gave my parents a break and my grandparents a good extended visit with us (and probably enough for the whole year!). One pair lived on a beach, and smells of seaweed drifting up from the sand never fails to remind me of rowing around in boats and turning over rocks for crabs. The other grandparents owned a farm, and their place was a rich palette of smells (to mix a metaphor). I most remember the barn; my grandfather's old tractors exhaling aromas of mud, oil, and leather; sun-baked mud in the fields, and fresh picked raspberries. He also tended to have a couple of decaying vehicles parked in the back; and the 1940s-1950s car smells of metal dashboards, leather seats, and oil (again) takes me back fifty years in a heartbeat.

One of my uncles worked at a milk bottling company and we would go with my aunt to take his lunch sometimes. He worked in the room where the bottles came down the conveyor and he and another man put them in the cases then into a huge cooler. He would always give us a small bottle of chocolate milk and the smell of that cold room with the combination of a damp floor, cause they always had to keep it clean so the floors were usually damp from mopping and the smell of that fresh chocolate milk is a good one to me.

Every river has a unique smell. My favorite is the San Saba, as it runs through Menard, Texas. My grandparents lived on a farm 5 miles east of town. I played in that river as often as I could, and almost drowned in it one January when the bank gave way under my feet. The last time I was in the area, I stopped on the side of the road where the river crossed it, just before it goes by the farm they used to own. The smell brought back all the lovely memories. I hope my grandkids can have things that make them remember their time with me that way.

I second the old sweat. I equate it with honest sweat, combined with old leather and coils of hemp rope. Walk into an enclosed tack room. Or an old style family run hardware store - oiled wood floors and ceiling fans turning overhead. In those days a boy could take some saved coins and buy a box of 22 shells then go hunting. Probably the SWAT teams and the thought police would come screeching up today. OT. I always maintained that Heaven smells like fresh coffee and bacon cooking.

There was a certain perfume that my first wife wore...and we were divorced in 1978!

My ex used to like White Diamonds. She loved it. It gave me fierce headaches. I couldn't stand to be in the car with her.

Eventually, she ended up receiving a big bottle of Shalimar. She liked that, and it smelled much better, but no where near as good as Shalimar smelled when my grandmother wore it.

Another strong smell was the Tropicana Orange Juice plant. When I was a kid, it could be smelled over 15 miles away, P.U. Then there was the orange blossom perfume that was sold in every giftshop in Florida. Whew! It never matched the wonderful smell of real orange blossoms.

The smell of the sea was always great, especially when you were actually away from the dock and out in the water.

When I was young, my family would rent a house in Newport Beach, CA, every year for vacation. There was a very distinct "beach" smell of salt air, sand and seaweed. Typing this right now, I can smell it again.

And the smell of creosote on the dock pilings.
Remember the frozen banannas at the fun-zone by the ferry landing?

I was raised on a dairy farm in Western New York-------------- need i say more!

Reminds me of Hemingway's quote in Farewell to Arms, "I was in under the canvas with guns; they smelled cleanly of oil."
The smell of oiled canvas, tarry ropes, the sweetly exotic scent of the interior of a small cabin sloop, the smell of pretzels in a Brooklyn bakery, the painfully (to me) beautiful scent of hyacinths the time my father tried to make a little extra money selling them at Easter (and didn't), the sweet smell of the salt marsh and the warm full perfume of pine trees on a humid day, my wife's perfume when we first met, "Here is My Heart", the good smell of farmlands, horses and cows and fresh hay, good pine wood when being worked into useful or playful things, turpentine (real turpentine) and the excitement of mixing it with paint to capture a landscape or a beautiful figure, damp clay that turns into living form and the great potential it offers, fresh cement hardening into form, the scent of engines, racers, airplanes and all the smells of model-making, and of course, printing...the linseed oil, the new paper and the oily sweat of the press as it moves to create beautiful letterpress printing.

My grandmother's roses,
The neighbor's pet woodchuck[!],
Field corn in the later growth phase,
Chlordane sprayed on cotton fields,
"Ambush"...the sexiest farmgirls who ever lived bought this perfume for about a buck a gallon,
The old man's shop,
A late April rain at midnight.

Cycling content...the kerosene we used to dump into the drum of those old coaster brakes...it'd throw you over the handlebars!

Marijuana and patchouli.

"Smells from the past"

My very first thought after seeing that title was what happens a little while after I eat a big meal and immediately before my wife yells at me!! :eek:



Wet canvas reminds me of Boy Scout camping.

Fresh ground coffee reminds me of childhood trips to the grociery store.

Both freshly sharpened pencil odor and mimeograph odor remind me of how much I hated being cooped up inside at school.

My oldest daughter already has confided to me that during visits home she often walks out to our detached garage in hopes of catching a whiff of old grease, oil, and gasoline which reminds her of our basement when she was just a little girl. I had torn down and was storing an MGA down there...everything except the frame and main body shell.

Oh come on guys, Bike Shop smell. I love the smell of rubber and solvents and oil, all blended together to make that bike shop smell. Its not as pungent as it was in the old days, probably because of less solvents used in shops today.