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Sometimes I wish I could conjure up all of the smells that have meant something to me in my life, scents that would instantly bring back a former life and former surroundings…

There are the very distinct smells of different colleges, ranging from an antiseptic odor of a brand new facility, to a chlorine and floor cleaner scent of a workout room, to an unidentifiable one of a former auditorium turned into dance studio. In every case, the odors were mixed and saturated to the point where the final smell could never exist elsewhere. If I were to stumble upon such smells again, it would be within the confines of those specific walls, and I would be transported back in time, when life was simpler and a boundless future lay before me. A visit to any barn would revisit memories of riding lessons and odors that only a horse lover could love. Yet smelling it takes me back to a life long ago, when I had free time for the acquaintance of the noblest of beasts. In one of my favorite former jobs, there was a distinct odor of being in a facilities area, with its mishmash of machinery, oil, and wood. Smelling that combination now would put me into a very happy state, since that experience was as well. On the other hand, smelling the lotion that nurses applied to my mother as she laid in a coma before passing away causes an immediate and almost abhorrent reaction…

I have vague recollections of grade school smells such as tomato soup and cheese sandwiches in the cafeteria, and lilacs floating through the open windows every May. I think that if I ever came upon that mix again, I would regress to that uncomfortable state of pre-pubescence, especially if Love’s Baby Soft cologne was also around. And I can’t forget what my favorite people wore-the men who favored Polo and Grey Flannel, and the women who wore Estee Lauder and Channel. Should my path cross theirs again, I believe I’d feel an irrational disappointment if they no longer smelled the same, which they probably would not. This isn’t as horrific as it sounds though, because, when you think about it, a person’s scent should change, just as their life does.

There’s a magic connected with cologne that’s hard to define. It has an unexplainable power to create emotional responses. Most women should be able to take a whiff of certain colognes and remember a particular time of their life. I wore Oscar de la Renta while a working gal and Giorgio on my wedding day. I was a big fan of Beautiful and Gloria Vanderbilt because my mother was, and along the way I’ve worn Fire and Ice, Eternity, Passion, and dozens of vanilla blends. (One essential oil prompted folks in my office to question, “Who’s baking cookies in the kitchen?”) Each and every one of these smells is more of a scent-sensation than a smell. They defined me for several months or even years.

On Black Friday, I stopped in Saks and sampled a Bond St. #9 fragrance, where all in that line are named after different New York neighborhoods. It’s $195 a bottle, but, in my opinion, not as intriguing a scent on me as most others. A month later, I purchased Paris Hilton’s Just Me from a street vendor in Chinatown. It does not smell like the same scent purchased from Macy’s, and I wonder if it’s due to being outside in the heat, since it’s obvious the bottle was never opened. One of the strangest things about fragrance is that it’s easy to detect if something is one iota off, and that difference is greatly annoying, like in the imposter brands. (I keep sensing an overwhelming scent of celery in this Just Me. Perhaps I’ll mix it into unscented cream for a body lotion that won’t let me smell like vegetable juice.)

I’ll continue to use my special scents at special times. And even if it’s not really all that special of an occasion, just smelling Caswell-Massey’s Sandalwood will make it become so.

We can never underestimate the power of scent, so don’t hesitate to indulge in a wonderful scent as soon as possible-you’ll love smelling great.