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A whiff of pipe tobacco brings back my Dad.
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A whiff of pipe tobacco brings back my Dad.
Musty magazines bring back cleaning out my grand-dad's shed with my grandmother.
Portapotties conjure Japan.
Crushed spearmint = sun tea made with my best friend (in a Mason jar in a deserted lot).
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A bakery. Fresh bread and croissants remind me of where my parents are originally from.
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A bakery. Fresh bread and croissants remind me of where my parents are originally from.
And another unique smell I can't describe reminds me of Mecca.
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moth balls- I can't stand them, but when I was little I used to sneak into my grandmother's things in an upstairs attic and explore. She hated that (probably because things tended to disappear).
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White Linen, a perfume.
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White Linen, a perfume.
Memory, Rita, the lady who taught me I could live again after my divorce.
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Provolone. When I was a very little girl we lived in Italy. One whiff of that cheese and I'm five years old, clinging to my mom's skirt as we walk through the open-air market, those giant wheels of cheese hanging like ornaments from the stands and little old ladies with dried apple-doll faces stooping down to ruffle my platinum blonde hair and cooing "Bella bambina!"
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I bought my first home (fixer-upper) about a year and a half ago. I've painted every room in that house at least once. I don't think I'll ever be able to smell paint without thinking of my first home and all I've learned from the experience.
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I love the smell of gunpowder. It brings back my early days in the military. The smell of tequila makes me sick to my stomach and reminds me of my 21st birthday. :-X
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old spice reminds me of hugging my ex.
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