Sunday, 11 October 2015
Smell the roses
Today I was down in the dumps, for no reason in particular, just a melancholy mood. So when I spied a beautiful bunch of long stemmed roses at the IGA's bargain price of $10, I decided I'd spoil myself. They were so pretty, that my mood lifted almost immediately - the idea of bringing them to the new flat, that is currently looming as a very tiny, lonely space that I'm dreading being in most of the time, made me feel better. I could picture them cheering me up on the bedside table, and somehow transforming my attitude towards the place with their presence.
The best part? They smell. That fragrant, sweet rose perfume. I've been lamenting lately that shop flowers rarely smell anymore. The scent no longer pervades the room like it used to. I keep smelling them like a drug, each inhale inducing a smile. And like Proust's Madeleine*, the smell brings memories of happiness, and transforms my mood. Sometimes, it really is as simple as that.
"Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth."
Dianne Ackerman A Natural History of the Senses
Linking with #FYBF and #WeekendRewind
(It needs to be said, I'm not really a rose girl - my favourite flowers are jonquils, and in their short season, when they drop to $5, I buy them each week, and have them in the kitchen where I get the most out of their strong fragrance. Rest of the year, I don't buy flowers. Until today.)
(*It also needs to be said, if you haven't read Swann's Way, it's more accessible than you would think, and actually very amusing.)