Smells of Wet pebbles on a beach, mothballs and whisky.

Liquorice. Nicotine fingers. Slippers. Smell of rain.

A dry woody undertone reminiscent of the brick shaped pencil box I made in grade 5 woodwork. The second whiff smells like the HB pencils that would later call that creation home complete with their crumbled lead ends. 

Once, a had a jacket potato explode in the oven. This smells like that. Quite nice. Red skinned potato, reasonably unclean oven.

It reeks of: Misogyny. Passive aggression. Coffee breath and fags. (It also has some lovely old design references too.)

I’m getting sea breezes, Mediterranean maquis… myrtles, laurels, oregano… with a hint of 1940s Soho coming through.

Secondary school. Mr Taylor’s class. Base notes of putting your fresh, wet work on the drying rack semi-ceremoniously – remember the racks? I miss the racks. Strong scent of wet acrylic and the little bits the eraser leaves behind. Lingering afternotes of blue paint on your white school shirt.

Used sandpaper. Twiglets. The dusty wooden floors of early 1980s school assemblies.

Hint of autumnal mildew and wet bark, slight pungency of leaf and traceable warm scent of recently emptied decanter.

Smells like kneeling on a church pew and Wham bars.

Fresh linen, autumn walks and a hint of headmasters office.

Stale cigar smoke. Vanilla cupcakes. Musty.

This smells like the old wallpaper at the bottom of a drawer when moving house.

Blackcurrant cordial and PVA glue.

This smells of biology labs, garden sheds and old blankets.

Coconut with a hint of damp fungus, in the most pleasant way possible.

This smells like writing on a black board with chalk and charcoal in a cedar forest, and my grandma.

Glue. (But in a way that’s good to sniff.) Timber yards and sawmills. Comfort and heart-gladness and the smell that things have when they are still new and exciting and have the possibility to change you.  

A faint aroma of fish and chips, or perhaps it’s vinegar. 

I’m getting plastic flowers on a rainy Monday in Milwaukee

I get a little sweet whiff of Bedhead Hair Wax from this book. The smell also reminds me of the library photocopier at Leeds College of Art and Design in 1998 (when I studied there).

It smells like a sleeping bag that’s been rolled up in the attic.