Smell and Technology

Welcome to the future! Step inside the darkened theater, settle back in your Premium Aroma Seat, and get ready for a trip through the exotic land of China that smells just like the real thing! Soar over an ancient evergreen grove; revel in the gentle pine-scented breeze. Trudge through the stifling Gobi desert; inhale the hot dust and prickly cacti. Tiptoe into a small grass hut, and sniff the cool dirt floor and handmade incense. It would seem that in our high-tech world of gidgets and gadgets, such an experience would be happening everywhere. And we are making steps toward virtual reality experiences that are increasingly more like “the real thing”. When it comes to olfaction, however, we are far from creating anything anywhere near an authentic experience. An actual observer of this travel film would have a rather different encounter. First, he would walk into a theatre that reeked of the remnants of more than thirty different odors, clinging to the seats and curtains. The pine grove would smell rather like the just-cleaned restroom in Union Station; the Gobi desert, due to a time lag, would smell like fresh cut grass, and the tea and dirt smells mix together into an odd not-quite-dirt-not-quite-tea conglomeration that’s a bit nauseating. While technology can catapult us into one almost real situation after another, and provide stimulation for multiple senses, olfactory technology is continually disappointing, and even recent improvements cannot really create a virtual world that smells like the real one. And yet, they keep trying. The entertainment industry, commercial marketing, medicine and physical therapy, and psychology all have one failed experiment after another in olfactory technology. In some areas, we seem to be on the verge of a real breakthrough, like Cyrano Industries’ electronic nose, which can detect far before the human nose that food has gone bad (Herz). In others, though, we are far from advanced, such as Digiscents brilliant Ismell device, which was touted to effectively synthesize more than a hundred different scents. The company folded in 2003 while the Ismell was still in development. Technology has been working toward creating multisensory environments since its beginnings. Writers of utopian fiction explored devices such as Aldous Huxley’s “feelies” experience, which wrapped its audience in an orgasmic assault of smells, sounds, and sensations. In the 1950’s audiences were exposed to devices such as the Sens-o-Matic, a machine that enabled the participant to smell, touch, taste, see and hear a film. Today, computers and odors are partnered through technologies that can produce smells to alter the environments we live in, and to create more realistic surroundings in virtual reality and film (Herz 224). Even though, as Jim Drobnick states, “the promises of olfactory media have tended to hyperbolize its capabilities”, attempts are made again and again to include smell in order to “humanize and de-alienate the circumscribed sensescape of audiovisual technology” (Drobnick 330). Repeatedly, though, experiments in olfactory technology have either failed completely or been met with such skepticism and hostility that they are viewed as gimmicks. Why is it that audiences are able to suspend disbelief with their eyes and ears, but not their noses? Is the problem with the technology, or perception, or culture? I think that obstacles lay in all these areas, and that olfactory technology may never reach the point where it is accepted in the same way that visual and auditory technology is.


The earliest known example of olfactory technology is in 1906, when S.L. Rothafel, owner of a movie theater in Forest City, PA dipped cotton in rose scent and held it in front of an electric fan, thereby suffusing the theatre with floral essence during a newsreel screening of the Pasadena Rose Bowl game (Drobnick 359). While there were several more similar attempts at olfactory technology in the years that followed, the real breakthrough came around 1960, when two cinematic technologies arrived – Smell-O-Vision and Aromarama. Both of these used a scent track on the film itself to trigger odors, sort of like a soundtrack. They faced a few challenges, however – the first of which was synchronization. Odors take time to be recognized, especially in large areas, so it was hard to time the odor release with specific events in the film. Secondly, since the change from one scent to another was a slow process, one scent would often linger before another could be released, creating “odorific confusion” (Drobnick 360). Aromarama attempted to alleviate this by distributing scents through the air conditioning and using Freon gas to help dispense the smells, but this didn’t really work, and audiences were left with an unpleasant mixture of smells (Drobnick 360). Neither of these technologies was met with positive criticism – in fact, a New York Times reviewer called it a “novel stimulation” and “bunk”. His review began: “If there is anything of lasting value to be learned…it is that motion pictures and synthetic smells do not mix (Crowther, qtd. in Drobnick 360). Smell-O-Vision was also listed in Time Magazine’s (2000) reader-polled “Top 100 worst ideas of all time” (Drobnick 360). These negative reactions didn’t cause the entertainment industry to be defeated, though. They actually seemed to take a step backwards in subsequent decades, and several films have used what is known as “scent card” technology, which is essentially a scratch ‘n’ sniff imitation. Viewers would see a film and be prompted by color blocks or images to scratch their cards with the corresponding color or image, thereby releasing by microencapsulation smells that relate to the visual images on the screen. The most well known attempt was John Waters “Odorama” film, Polyester, in 1981. The film told the story of a housewife who learns that her pornographer husband is unfaithful, her daughter gets pregnant, and her son is suspected of being a notorious foot-fetishist who has been breaking the feet of local women. At the beginning of the film, viewers were given a scratch ‘n’ sniff card with the numbers 1 to 10 on it. When the number came up on the film, they were to scratch to reveal odors such as flowers, grass, pizza, glue, and feces. In 1988, the technology was used by the English National Opera in a scratch ‘n’ sniff production of Prokofiev’s Love for Three Oranges. Later, two Nickelodeon-produced movies for children were released with similar techniques, The Wild Thornberrys (1999) and Rugrats Go Wild (2003) (Drobnick 371). While this form of technology certainly works, it relies on a much older concept, and involves a completely separate process to release odors, one that is completely controlled by the viewer.
Outside of the entertainment industry, olfactory technology has had a little more success. Electronic noses, or e-noses, have been in existence for about ten years. These electronic noses typically consist of a series of sensors, each with previously specified sensitivity to certain chemical compounds (Herz 209). The Cyranose 320, for example, has been used to analyze surrounding air from fresh beef strip loins stored at 4 degrees and 10 degrees Celsius, and was found to be accurate between 90 and 100 percent of the time when compared with actual microbial counts (Herz 210). E-noses, according to Rachel Herz, are cheaper and more accurate than human panels, can reduce the amount of analytical chemistry needed, are easy to use, can give immediate results, and are portable. There are some problems with e-noses, however. First of all, most e-noses are only able to recognize pre-programmed sets of related compounds. If one wanted to analyze vapors that were made up of many different chemicals, a whole array of e-noses with different sets of sensor panels would have to be set up. Another difficulty is that terms for smell perception are imprecise, such as, “this smells fruity”, and e-noses are unable to replicate that subjectivity. Finally, most compounds are far too complex chemically for an e-nose to take in all possibilities – smell molecules often have such subtle differences that a slightly different ratio will completely change the scent, and this would be unrecognizable to an e-nose. Coffee, tea, and cocoa all contain the same 670 compounds, but the human nose can tell quite easily that they smell different, whereas an e-nose would simply detect the identical compounds (Lai).
Another area where smell technology has been successful is in military training. The military has been experimenting with olfactory technology to recreate the smells of a battlefield – burning bodies, exploding bombs, blood and sewage are being combined with VR simulations to enhance the quality of training for soldiers, and, according to Herz, produce “a generation of better soldiers (249).” Of course, such technology is still in early stages of development, and very expensive to produce. Also, much information regarding these technologies is classified and it cannot be closely analyzed.
One company that appears to be making progress is TriSenx. TriSenx has marketed the Scent Dome, which retails for $369.00 (“Digital Scent Technology”). The company, based in Savannah, Georgia, has created a device that can hold up to twenty scents at a time. The scents, in the form of oils, can be mixed and matched by signals given from the computer. The codes can be embedded in music, CDs, E-mails, games, and Web Pages. The domes mix and release the smells into the air using technology similar to the iSmell. TriSenx claims that with their catalog of over 200 scents, almost any scent can be recreated. Users can take virtual holidays, where they smell the sea and suntan lotion; smell the horses as they watch a race on-line; take a virtual trip to a jazz club, complete with the scents of whiskey and cigars, or conduct a safety training session where the smells of burning wires dominate the senses (“Digital Scent Technology”). TriSenx has even partnered with a website called “Scenttv” (www.scenttv.tv), which provides educational and entertaining videos that contains the codes to trigger the Scent Dome. For a mere $17.95 a month, one can join Scenttv and get a free Scent Dome with refills for the life of the membership. Sadly, the entertainment on Scenttv, such as “Mulletman's” vocabulary presentation and cute little girl’s “Gingerbread Man Song”, leave much to be desired. Instead of providing quality experiences enhanced by scent, Scenttv seems to throw together some scent-related information to accompany the Scent Dome technology.
What are the real problem areas with olfactory technology? Is it that the development is still primitive? Is it that we just don’t understand well enough how olfaction works? Do we have a psychological block against our olfactory bulbs being manipulated, or are the technologies available just not convincing enough? I think that these issues are all components of the ultimate failure of olfactory technology. The three most prominent areas of difficulty, though, are related to technology development, the speed of the chemical processes of olfaction, and cultural attitudes.
Rachel Herz feels that the innovative technologies are hindered by an “incomplete understanding of how the sense of smell actually works, and several “inherent incompatibilities between the nature of vision and smell” (234). Our understanding of olfaction is still in its earliest stages, and thus our efforts to simulate scents synthetically are hindered by the fact that there are still arguments about how scents are received, translated and processed. We also tend to approach all sensory understanding from a visual perspective, and this retards the process of understanding olfactory signals. Think for example, about how vision works. One can mix red and yellow to make a new color, orange, but this doesn’t work with scents. Rachel Herz cites the following example: “You can’t mix a chemical that smells like grass with one that smells like coffee and get a new scent, “graffee”, with its own unique olfactory sensation. It may just smell like grassy coffee” (234). Also, much of the new technology in olfaction is accompanied by visual stimuli that appear to be devices out of science fiction – elaborate headpieces, whirring fans, and colorful domes require set-up and adjustment, and serve as reminders that our senses are being manipulated. Some resistance exists simply because new scent technologies appear to be “innovation for innovation’s sake”, according to Jim Drobnick (360). Another factor involved in technology development is scent and control. This is evident in the fact that film technology regressed from scent being pumped through the air conditioning systems to scratch card technology. Scratch cards are voluntary and do not impose upon the user, but “ambient smell is more intrusive and persistent” (Drobnick 364). Smells invade personal space and leak into the environment, and we have not yet developed a way to turn on one smell and turn off another (Drobnick 364).
Olfaction is also a very slow sense, unlike vision. It takes at least four hundred milliseconds (almost half a second) after an odor has been presented for a smell to be detected (Herz 235). It only takes your brain 45 milliseconds to register sight. This makes it very challenging to couple visual stimuli with scents as they operate at completely different speeds. It also takes time to move from one odor into the next. Scents combine and mingle, so that sometimes more than one scent is present simultaneously. Drobnick compares this to a slow symphony: “an ambient piece that slowly resolves one scent into another, or that can simultaneously produce multiple distance smells like chords in music” (362).
It also takes a long time to turn olfaction off. Herz explains that “airflow, temperature, humidity, volume, and a host of other factors determine how long a scent will persist in your nasal panorama”, not to mention mixing problems (236). One viewer of the film The New World in Japan, which was accompanied by a scent soundtrack in 2004, commented that it was like “watching a movie while an aromatherapy clinic was being held in the lobby. Even in my Premium Aroma Seat, I had a hard time distinguishing the scents and often was unsure if a new perfume were being introduced or if a random atmospheric shift had brought a residual scent into stronger focus” (236). Olfactory molecules are also chemically sticky – they stick, literally, to paint, cloth, and plastics. Also, most aromas used in scenting devices are oil based, which in itself is sticky. Thus, scents in a theater will tend to cling to the walls and seats, lingering long after the scent device has been turned off.
Scent is unpredictable as well. We aren’t even sure yet if olfactory molecules differ because of their shape, as some theorists believe, or their vibrations, as newer research tends to indicate (Turin). This obviously makes it challenging to create and adjust synthetic scents, and much of it is trial and error. In either case, the relationship between fragrance molecules and fragrance perception is not dependable (Herz 235). Some chemicals have completely different molecular structures, but they smell identical, and others have similar structures, but smell completely different. For example, Herz says that simply “reversing the molecular spin, as in the right and left-hand isomers of the molecule carvone, yields one that smells like spearmint and another that smells like caraway” (236).
Finally, there is the obstacle of adaptation. Sometimes, when a smell lingers in the environment, we adapt to it and can no longer smell it. This is why those in particularly smelly jobs are able to persist – they adapt to the ambient scents and no longer can detect them. This may not be a problem in the film industry, but VR games and experiences, where audiences may be subjected to the same scents over and over, may have to deal with this problem. If the same odors are released each time a game is played, the scent component will become irrelevant. This is also a difficulty with military training, according to Herz: “Too many mock missions with the same set of smells will result in diminished ability to get the real feel of the enemy” (237).
The most critical problem to olfactory technology, however, and one that I think will be the most difficult to overcome, is cultural. Jim Drobnick feels that the strong negative reactions from critics regarding the use of smell in computer technology are “illustrative of the undervalued role of smell in Western society’s sensory episteme” (359). Many people assume that “multimedia” automatically means “mulitsensory”, but this is not the case. Also, assumptions have been tainted by novelty in the past, with the advent of companies such as Aromarama, Smell-O-vision, and Odorama. Drobnick explains: “Read in an unironic and unsympathetic way, these cinematic smell media are seen as, at best, mere gimmick, and at worst, a technological cul-de-sac which sets back the serious adoption of smell in the digital domain” (Drobnick 364). Drobnick also feels that the sense of smell and its history has been long disregarded, and this is “compounded by the failed experiments and mixture of earnest belief and self-aware pastiche that such cinematic smell media encompass” (364).
Cultural attitudes are strongly associated with emotional reactions as well. Our responses to scents are most often learned (Herz), and differ based upon upbringing, personal experience, and group culture. What may invoke pleasant memories for one person might also release unwanted memories or trigger an unpleasant reaction in another. Researchers currently have no way of measuring or determining how individuals will react to certain smells, and cannot therefore use scent to recreate emotional images or dramatic scenes. Drobnick insists that there are “pejorative cultural attitudes” to combat as well, and that these are “against any kind of odiferous intrusion into entertainment activities or users’ home environments” (330). Smell is unreliable, ephemeral, and invasive, and many people simply are not willing to have their bodies and brains intruded upon in this manner.
So, what does this mean for olfaction? Is it destined to be forever banished to the worlds of utopian fiction or novelty? Can scent ever be taken seriously? At this point, history indicates that it can’t. Olfactory technology in particular seems to just perpetuate notions of scent being a gimmick and good only for children’s movies and futuristic entertainment. Should scent technology be put on hold until we are more aware of how scent works and how to effectively simulate it? I think not. Even though technology is not yet reliable, or even accessible, paying attention to scent is a worthwhile endeavor. Herz explains: “simple awareness of how amazing, wonderful, and incredible our sense of smell is, and how much pleasure, dimensionality, intensity, and meaning it can bring to our lives, is the most essential olfactory knowledge that we need to enrich our lives now and in the future. Paying attention to smells really does enhance our ability to smell, and if we don’t pay attention, many aromas will slip by unappreciated” (238). Drobnick also feel that scent is worthy of exploration, especially in the art world: “the qualities of scent which deny its aesthetic viability within traditional aesthetics – evocativeness, intimacy, variability, primality, evanescence and so on – often turn out to be the very qualities most attractive to artists seeking to redefine aesthetic experience” (328).
Scent has been ignored, even repressed for so long that it’s only logical that our understanding of it is primitive. Developers of scent technology have to combat lack of knowledge about how scent works, primitive technologic devices, inconsistent and undependable chemistry, and pervasive anti-olfactory cultural attitudes. Even if they continue to be unsuccessful, focusing on scent in technology can increase our awareness of olfaction, thereby causing us to think about it more and actually enhancing our natural sense of smell. We also will come closer to understanding how it works as more and more advancements are made. Most important to scent technology, though, is its use in understanding art and culture, and this is where I see the most potential for development. Installation pieces that explore cultural perceptions of olfaction, written pieces that critically analyze texts from an olfactory perspective, film and video that harnesses the sense of smell as an accompaniment, all have the power to force us to pay attention to smell and transform the way we “see” the world. While technology may currently be ineffective when it comes to olfaction, it can still harness our imaginations, and give us a new realm in which to pursue sensory perception – a world that has been relatively unexplored in the history of Western culture.


Works Cited

“Digital Scent Technology." Digital Scent Technology Blog. 30 Mar 2007. Digiscents. 16 April 2007 .
Drobnick, Jim, Ed. The Smell Culture Reader. Oxford: Berg, 2006.
Herz, Rachel. The Scent of Desire. New York: William Morrow, 2007.
Lai, Scott. “Electronic Nose”. 25 Nov 2003. 12 Dec 2007. ecow.engr.wisc.edu/cgi-bin/get/bme/ 462/webster/papers2003/electronicnose-scottlai.doc

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Smell and Perception

“The act of smelling something, anything, is
remarkably like the act of thinking itself”
– Lewis Thomas, Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler’s Ninth Symphony

A man who suffered from anosmia, or loss of the sense of smell, once commented: “It was like being struck blind. Life lost a good deal of its savor – one doesn’t realize how much “savor” is smell. You smell people, you smell books, you smell the city, you smell the spring – maybe not consciously, but as a rich unconscious background to everything else” (qtd. in Drobnick 185). Why is scent such a vital part of perception? And why do so few people fail to realize it until it is absent? If scent gives life such “savor”, then why is it so underappreciated? A large part of the problem is that perception of scent is far more involved than most people care to admit. Our culture, our society, our conditioning, these all contribute to and transform our perception of smell, and these factors are so diverse and uncontrollable that the explanations are as ephemeral as the sense itself.




We are aware of the world through our sensory experiences. The term used to describe our awareness is perception, and it’s a highly complex concept. So expansive is the study of perception, in fact, that many theorists choose to break it up into more manageable slices – how we perceive sound, or color, or taste. Of course, perception is all wrapped up in philosophy as well. Zen Buddhists and atheists alike contemplate such perceptive mysteries as the sound of one hand clapping, or the reality of the forces we cannot see. Perception is part of biology, and culture, and sociology, and, well, pretty much everything else. Sadly, though, the study of smell and perception is rather limited. There are countless reasons for this, but the simplest answer is that smell is elusive, complicated, and just not really understood yet. Scientists have very recently figured out how smell works, at least on a biological level. The 2004 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine went to neuroscientists Richard Axel and Linda B. Buck for their research on scent, and Jim Drobnick says that their research is “on the verge of cracking” the basic code for scent perception and cognitive processing (2). We now know, for the most part, what goes into our noses and what our brains do with it to turn it into a smell. But smell perception is so much more complicated than that. What makes us like or dislike a smell? Genetics? Culture? The shape of the molecules? Are our perceptions of smell inherited, or instinctive, or learned? The research on our most primitive sense is still in a most primitive state.
Scent has often been, according to Drobnick, “delimited as a mere ‘biological’ sense”, but in reality, scent is “subtly involved in just about every aspect of culture, from the construction of personal identity and the defining of social status to the confirming of group affiliation and the transmission of tradition” (1). Perhaps this is why the perception of smells is such a difficult topic to discuss – one can’t really break it up into nice, neat slices – certainly, the scientific aspects alone are difficult to navigate. But scent cannot be examined simply from a biological perspective, because so much of olfaction is dependent upon cultural factors created by society and involving the environment, the people in it, and their symbolic worldviews. Drobnick explains: “no act of perception is a pure and unmediated event; each society inflects and cultivates sensory practices according to its needs and interests” (2). Drobnick suggests that taking a sociological approach to olfactory investigation will open up wonderful new methods of inquiry. Through “olfactocentrism”, he says, we can explore how scent transforms perception and thought.
To address olfaction from a cultural viewpoint, very little needs to be known about how smell works, but a basic explanation may be helpful. Rachel Herz, a psychologist who writes about smell in clear, straightforward terms, gives a fairly concise overview of the process of olfactory perception. Odors, she explains, are molecules that float through the air. When we breathe, air goes into the nostrils where these molecules land on the olfactory epithelia, a mucous membrane containing sensory neurons. The neurons are covered with cilia, and the cilia have receptors on their tips. Humans have about 20 million receptors in both nostrils (dogs have about 220 million), which is why we are considered rather poor smellers. So, here we are, with the odor molecule-filled air, being sensed by the 20 million receptors. The smell must then, of course, make a quick trip to the brain. The neurons connect directly to the brain by passing through a bony, holed structure called the cribiform plate. The axons of the neurons bundle together, forming the olfactory nerve, which sends impulses to the olfactory bulb. From the bulbs, the sensory information goes to the olfactory cortex, part of a brain area connected directly to the limbic system, where emotions are housed. Interestingly, Herz notes, the “connections between the olfactory area and the amygdala and hippocampus are more direct than the connections between these brain areas and any other sense” (“I Know What I Like” 191). Herz thinks that this is the key to why olfaction is so closely linked to both emotion and memory.
There are still a few puzzles associated with this process – for example, how the molecular makeup of an odorant gets translated into a psychological perception, and then, how we formulate a like or dislike response. According to Herz, most scientists follow what is known as the “shape theory,” which says that the molecules have different shapes and the shapes fit (or don’t fit) into the olfactory receptors. Once a correct amount of molecules fit into the receptor, the signal is sent. The pattern of electrical activity in the olfactory bulb then determines the scent we perceive (“I Know What I Like” 192). Luca Turin, though, proposes a rather different theory called the vibration theory. He says that the perception of scents is due to the different vibrational frequencies of the molecules, and molecules with similar vibrations produce similar scents. Herz says that Turin’s theory has been proved true for some scent categories, like citrus, but that the evidence still leans mostly in favor of shape theory (“I Know What I Like” 192).
Perception theories aside, however, a complete understanding of smell sensation requires much more than just a biological explanation. Herz thinks that we need “combined efforts by scientists in molecular biology, neurophysiology, and psychology” (“I Know What I Like” 192), but I think we also need ethnographers, anthropologists, and sociologists. Smell is cultural, and to really understand it, we need to study its cultural aspects.
We first must recognize how scent perception differs drastically from the traditional vision-based approach to perception. It’s logical that we tend to approach perception through visual means, because vision has long been touted as the most important sense, and it is the one we rely on most heavily. But examining the world around us while heightening the importance of smell can give great insight into perception, particularly in regards to emotion, culture, and social development. One essay called “Smellscape”, by J. Douglas Porteous, argues that “unlike the information present in vision, olfactory experiences are inherently discontinuous, fragmentary and episodic, that is, time-based” (Drobnick 86). Considering the immediacy of vision, a sense that is focused on time would provide a very different perception of the world. Instead of the focus being on perspective, scale, and distance, as they would be in a visual environment, a “smellscape” would concentrate on “intensity, complexity, and affect” (Drobnick 86). Porteous is quite confident that these olfactocentric “views” of the world “exceed ocularcentric approaches” (Drobnick 86).
Visual perception is grounded in thought and cognition, whereas olfaction is tied directly into the brain’s limbic system, which is the “seat of emotion” (Porteous 101). Porteous explains that vision distances us from the object, because we “frame views in pictures and camera lenses; the likelihood of an intellectual response is considerable” (101). Smells, by comparison, “penetrate the body and the immediate environment, and thus one’s response is much more likely to involve strong affect” (Porteous 91). Porteous’ explanation made sense to me as I compared the process of looking at a lovely banquet in a colorful magazine and actually experiencing a banquet laid out on a table. Our vision can appreciate the beauty of the food, the artistic layout, and the rich colors, the view framed in a picture, through a camera lens. But, putting the food before us, with the apple-pie cinnamon and roast turkey shaped molecules vibrating into our bodies, our response is much more intense, emotional, and surrounding. Alain Corbin quotes Saint-Lambert: “Odor gives us the most intimate sensations, a more immediate pleasure, more independent of the mind, than the sense of sight” (Corbin 177). Porteous agrees, explaining that smell is primarily an “emotional, arousing sense, unlike vision and sound, which tend to involve cognition” (Porteous 89). To Rachel Herz, though, this begs an important question: “Where does the sensory perception of a smell end and emotional appreciation of that smell begin?” (“I Know What I Like” 192). Herz feels that our emotional responses to smells are learned.
While Jim Drobnick recognizes that we have an instant positive or negative reaction to smells – a “polarized response”, he calls it, he also says that there is an “intense power of suggestion” when it comes to olfactory perception. Herz explains: “Our responses to odors are learned: our specific history with specific odors gives them meaning, making them pleasant or unpleasant to us” (“I Know What I Like” 194). She goes on to relate that odors have connotations that we learn by association. Every smell we experience is in a certain context: “semantic, social, emotional, physical”. The context always has some emotional content, positive or negative, and we associate the smell with the remembered emotion (“I Know What I Like” 194). There are many examples that illustrate this. Imagine the first time you smelled roses. Perhaps you were playing in a lovely English garden, or watching your father bring home a gift for your mother. What if, though, you first smelled roses at your mother’s funeral? Or if the mean old woman who babysat you wore a rose-scented perfume? Your association with the scent would be very different. Herz notes that the reason most of our odor preferences come from childhood is because that is when we first experienced them. She comments: “Anytime in life that we encounter a new smell, emotional-odor associative learning can take place to determine our hedonic responses to it” (Scent of Desire 38).
Perception is also affected by culture and situation. While some may say that there are certain smells that are universally disliked, Herz disagrees. She notes, for example, that in some cultures, the smell of feces represents ritual and tribal conquest, as members of a culture smear their faces and bodies with it. In other cultures, the smell of a burning body, something that Westerners “could never conceive of liking”, represents a typical cremation ceremony, and is a smell that is even accompanied with celebration – some cultures like it (Scent of Desire 44). Herz gave another interesting example that illustrates the difference in odor preferences in two English-speaking cultures, Britain and the United States. The smell of wintergreen mint, she says, is a favorite American scent, but is “highly disliked” in the United Kingdom (Scent of Desire 42). According to studies conducted in Britain in the mid 1960’s and the United States in the late 1970’s, history provides the answer. In Britain, the scent of wintergreen was used in medicines and rub-on analgesics that were popular during World War II. In the United States, the scent is almost exclusively used in candy and gum. The British associated the scent of wintergreen with medicine and war, the Americans with sweet, positive experiences (Scent of Desire 42). Herz has many more similar examples regarding how expectations and situational contexts change a scent from a pleasant to an unpleasant one, and vice versa. Mark Twain gives an example in The Invalid’s Story – a stowaway is convinced that the pungent aroma emanating from a sack is a dead body, when it is in fact strong-smelling cheese. Herz notes: “a suspicious context, and a burlap sack of a particular but ambiguous shape, created a set of expectations that influenced odor perception and even inspired drastic behavior” (Scent of Desire 55). A relatable example occurred recently in my own family. My aging grandfather had a favorite chair that, as he became increasingly unable to care for himself, developed a pungent odor. Once, leaning over the chair, several months after my grandfather passed away, my father was nauseated by the odor of the chair, and amazed that it would still be so fragrant after several months of disuse. As he sat up and commented on it, however, he noticed that my mother had opened a jar of peanut butter, and that what he thought was the chair was actually an odor he liked very much. Herz says that in her laboratory, they were able to change scent perceptions simply by changing labels. They would give the same odor a positive or negative name, such as “parmesan cheese” and “vomit”. People would act differently to the odor based upon its label, even saying that they were disgusted by it or wanted to leave the room. When they were told that they were smelling the same scent with both labels, they refused to believe it (Scent of Desire 57).
Another area where scent perception is altered is language, as Herz’ example illustrates. Herz explains that since scents are invisible and “we are obsessed with identifying the objects in our world, we look to words and scenes for help” (Scent of Desire 57). We also are limited in the words that we have available, and our like or dislike of a smell affects our descriptors. In asking subjects to describe a skunk, for instance, Herz heard everything from lemonade to sweaty socks to chocolate-garlic. She notes: “we don’t learn about odors the way we learn about other objects and experiences in our world. Our parents and teachers don’t give us any ‘smell and tell’ lessons; therefore most of us have acquired idiosyncratic connections between scents and words” (Scent of Desire 54). The book Sensorium, an exhibition catalog for a recent sensory exhibit at MIT offers another interesting perspective: “Smell bypasses conscious cognition to summon core emotional states associated with the minute chemical combinations that first stimulated the neuron for that specific scent” (Jones 13). The book later asks the important question: “Can this subversive quality account for its absence from language?” (Jones 14).
We are only just beginning to understand the complex ways olfaction is immersed in social contexts, cultures, and psychology. Recent decades have provided us with the basic codes we need to understand how smell works biologically and chemically. Recent studies are beginning to help us venture out from a perceptive world so long immersed in solely vision to, as Jim Drobnick calls it, an “olfactocentric” realm where our sense of smell is considered separately from the other senses. As we do this, we discover that the chemical and biological explanations for smell only begin to explain this elusive sense. Our perceptions of smell are learned, and our childhood, background, emotions, cultural situations, and language all impact this learning process. The implications for better understanding history, culture, and perception through the sense of smell are only just beginning to emerge from a culture that has been focused almost exclusively on vision for hundreds of years. Helen Keller once penned these words about smell: “A whiff of the universe makes us dream of worlds we have never seen, recalls in a flash entire epochs of our dearest experience…Smell is a potent wizard that transports us across a thousand miles and all the years we have lived” (Keller 181). It’s intriguing that a sense so powerful has been placed at the bottom of the sense hierarchy for so long, and thrilling that new discoveries are helping us to better understand the unseen world, the olfactocentric one.


Works Cited
Corbin, Alain. “The New Calculus of Olfactory Pleasure.” The Smell Culture Reader. Ed. Jim Drobnick. Oxford: Berg, 2006.
Drobnick, Jim, Ed. The Smell Culture Reader. Oxford: Berg, 2006.
Herz, Rachel. “I Know What I Like: Understanding Odor Preferences.” The Smell Culture Reader. Ed. Jim Drobnick. Oxford: Berg, 2006.
Herz, Rachel. The Scent of Desire. New York: William Morrow, 2007.
Jones, Caroline, Ed. sensorium: embodied experience, technology, and contemporary art. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2006.
Keller, Helen. “Sense and Sensibility.” The Smell Culture Reader. Ed. Jim Drobnick. Oxford: Berg, 2006.
Porteous, J. Douglas. "Smellscape." The Smell Culture Reader. Ed. Jim Drobnick. Oxford: Berg, 2006.

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