A rainy mixed forest.
Petrichor mixed with woody decomposition and pine. Perfection. Add a touch of woodsmoke and baking, and there’s nothing that says home more to me.
Oh man, I could smell it as I read.
I don’t even really like camping, but the smell of a forest with just a bit of campfire… God damn!
The smell of the air conditioner wall unit at my mother’s old house. Musky. They were kept out in the garage, and my dad has no sense of smell. He would just put them in the windows and turn them on.
When I came home from school and got hit with the cold air, the smell, I knew it was summer. Yeah, sure, there’s probably a fungus in my brain that drives me towards the highest points I can find to release my spores, but, damn, it smelled like freedom.
First thing that came to mind was an Irish pub. Centuries old hardwood and malty hops. Very relaxing.
It currently smells like alfalfa. A highly chemically floral smell. It’s the closest thing I have to a home.
The smell of wood and moisture. You guessed it, a forest.
Shoestore. No idea how to describe it. Scent of leather perhaps
My first thoughts were the smell of a used bookstore, the smell of a coffee shop that roasts their own beans, or the smell of a house heated by a wood stove.
A hint on incense and spicy food, the smell of the ocean, and tuk tuk fumes.
The smell of a forest with a creek. Especially if it’s in the Sierra Nevada mountains. A dry, sweet-spicy smell of evergreens, duff, and cold water. I would bottle it if I could. I’ve never been anywhere else that has that smell.
The moisture, the feromones… there really is nothing like it.
