I grew up in the African bush in Malawi, Tanzania and Uganda, which is my thing. I love the smell of the dust as you bump along in a Land-Rover. I go back there often.
Scent is very important. Strong fragrances suit some men, while citrus types suit others. I like my men to smell fresh and woody, but also like a man.
There’s so many cool things that happen, where you want to kind of sit back and smell the roses and say, ‘Wow, this is awesome!’ But then you’re already thinking a mile ahead about what the next landmark is, what the next goal is.
I had a shampoo once where it was like, Okay, it’s a great shampoo, but I hate the smell. I had to stop using it.
I grew up in the East Village with a lot of old people in my building, and I’m not sure if they lost their sense of smell over the years, but they always seemed to smell like they poured a bottle of perfume on themselves. I never want to become that person.
I don’t wear cologne. I do occasionally, but anytime I take a shower, I just put on deodorant. That’s basically what I smell like.
I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.
When you’re doing exactly what you want to do, it’s not tiring. You’ve been planting these seeds, and finally, you have a full garden in bloom; you’re like, ‘Oh, I just want to smell the flowers and play among the flowers all day.’ That’s what I’m doing. I’m playing among the flowers.
I’ve always been in love with the States. When I was a kid, we would take these long summer holidays in Texas, Nashville, and all over. I fell in love with the people, the food, even the smell. You don’t necessarily get that in old Europe.
My weirdest scent association is probably Axe Body Spray, because every boy I know wears that stuff, and the smell is so specific! And the loud noise when you spray it! My little brother used to wear it, and the whole house would reek of it for days.
The smell of pine needles, spruce and the smell of a Christmas tree – those to me, are the scents of the holidays.
I really do love being outdoors – I mean, you’d never think it in my high heels and pencil skirt! But I really do miss the smell of hay and farms, and I like milking a cow.
I remember the ballads of the eighties when my mom was cleaning, sometimes I’d listen to, like, Amanda Miguel or something like that and I’ll smell the Fabulous.
I love a good goatee. I’m actually obsessed with goatees. I do like my men smooth, though. I like him to smell really good, so a great cologne is always hot.
I will always smell good.
Enantiomers often smell and taste differently.
I’m really good at sleeping on planes. I mean, I smell jet fuel and I’m out; I’m asleep for takeoff.
I believe that there are many herbs and many trees that are worth much in Europe for dyes and for medicines; but I do not know, and this causes me great sorrow. Arriving at this cape, I found the smell of the trees and flowers so delicious that it seemed the pleasantest thing in the world.
I always wear ladies’ scents. I like the smell of flowers and men’s scents tend to smell like burnt photocopiers.
I like watercolours. I like acrylic paint… a little bit. I like house paint. I like oil-based paint, and I love oil paint. I love the smell of turpentine and I like that world of oil paint very, very, very much.
Why not share with the world the way it is and tell them my feelings about my cat, and how I played with my kids, and how addicted to Christmas time I am, and the smell of pine needles and hearing my kids laugh.
My first ride in an airplane was at nine years of age, and it was wonderful: the freedom, the smell of the exhaust, the air going over my hair… It was me. It was part of me.
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.
Real hippies don’t like me at all. They can smell a real hippy.
It may be that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ but I should be loath to see a rose on a maiden’s breast substituted by a flower, however beautiful and fragrant it might be, that is went by the name of the skunk lily.
I definitely take time to smell the flowers because I feel like my upbringing was quite a bit different than most guys on Tour.
Does wisdom perhaps appear on the earth as a raven which is inspired by the smell of carrion?
Westminster is a jungle – and the hunter can always smell fear on its prey.
To each other, we were as normal and nice as the smell of bread. We were just a family. In a family even exaggerations make perfect sense.
The thing that makes vivid writing is when the reader is in the body of the story, the body of the character. Things smell like something; there’s weather, there’s texture, there’s light.
Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.
There are tons of women’s perfumes that I’ve smelt and been like, ‘I love that. I would totally wear that,’ and lots of women smell a lot of men’s cologne and think the same thing about that. I think there should be no reason to put gender on it.
Cologne, you know, you gotta make sure you smell good all the time.
I think that everything starts to go to hell when you start smelling your own farts and complimenting yourself on how great they smell. We’re not going to turn into fart-smellers.
There are two things I love about Temescal. One is the sense of space that you get when you get to the top. You can see for ages. You can see the ocean spread out before you, but you also feel like you’re in the mountains. And second is the smell of it, which I love most when I’ve been traveling a long time.
I hate all electronic things that are supposed to help the human being. You don’t smell, you don’t hear, you don’t touch anymore.
Smell is a long-distance sense, a way of stretching time and finding out in advance what lies ahead.
People who wear fur smell like a wet dog if they’re in the rain. And they look fat and gross.
I’m definitely of the ‘less is more’ mentality, and what I really appreciate is that fragrance is chemical, and it changes with your body throughout the day. It’s a very deeply personal thing. One smell on one person isn’t the same on another, and I appreciate the uniqueness of that experience.
My wife used to tell me one of my best qualities was that my feet don’t smell, but I remember my brother’s did when we were kids.
I will pursue my passion of cooking every day until my hands fall off and I lose all sense of smell and taste.
I imagine a child. That child is me. I can reconstruct and vividly remember portions of my own childhood. I can see, taste, smell, feel, and hear them. Then what I do is, not write about that kid or about his world, but start to think of a book that would have pleased him.
Sometimes, poor people don’t smell too good, so love can have no nose.
I have to have aftershave in my car. I actually have Gucci aftershave in the glove box that is just for the car, to make it smell nice.
The only thing… in-store retailing has that online doesn’t have is it has the ability to touch, smell, feel, and experience.
My boarding school experience was the only thing I had strong enough feelings to write about for hundreds and hundreds of pages. I can still smell the formaldehyde of the fetal pigs in biology.
Experience teaches that when the will and imagination are in conflict, the imagination usually wins. What we imagine may defeat our reason and make us slaves to what we taste, see, hear, smell, and feel in the mind’s eye. The body is indeed the servant of the mind.
One thing I always make – and I’m sure this is partly to do with memory and yearning and because I’ve made it ever since my children were born – I make gingerbread every year. And it’s partly just the perfume of the spices in the house, makes it smell like winter to me.
With food, you’re the artist; you put the colour in it, you present it to the table and it has the ability to knock out the senses. It can look fabulous, be beautifully presented and smell great and taste good as well.
You know what I love the smell of? Christmas trees and pine. I always have a pine candle even if it’s not Christmas.
If I smell a burger stand I get nervous. It takes me back to BMX tracks as a kid.
I love the smell of juice boxes in the morning.
Although I don’t know Oslo at all, there is something about the feel or the smell of the place that feels like home, which is quite interesting.
My style can’t be held within a pixel medium. Like, it needs to be performed in a living, breathing space. People need to have all their senses ready to take on my comedy, and unfortunately, TV alienates at least their sense of touch, taste, smell.
I love the smell of a real Christmas tree – also, my mum’s Christmas pudding with brandy sauce.
Children teach you to stop and smell the roses even though you’re busier than you’ve ever been before.
Space has its own unique smell. So whenever a vehicle docks, or if guys are out doing a spacewalk, the smell of space when you open up the hatch is very distinct. It’s kind of like a burning-metal smell, if you can imagine what that would smell like.
My father took me to see Hank Williams on December 14th, 1952. I was two years and four months of age. And I remember a little cool eddy of hair hitting my cheek, and I remember the smell of his hair oil, and I remember the mingling tonality of the small talk before the show started. Those are my memories.
