Some scents carry an overwhelming sense of place. For me, The Smell of Weather Turning *is* the North Downs. A little way inland, but with the blown-across traces of the sea, the deep chalk hills, the greens of sat upon grass, the damp paperbag of chamomile, the inevitable weight of clouds.

It’s strange and lovely, and incredibly specific.

I’m just glad it doesn’t contain the other smells I associate with this place–early 1980s eggy packed lunches and damp blazers–from the hellish boarding school weekend ritual of the “bus walk”.

Are there any perfumes that are locked to a particular place in your memory–by recreating it, or by association?

Originally posted 12 March 2019