Jimmy Choo. It haunts me. I don't recommend getting your heart broken by someone who wears such a mid-range perfume - it's common and loud enough that you could get hit by a wave of sickly sweet nostalgia anywhere you go. Real day ruiner.

The smell where his neck met his shoulder was an under-your-clothes, warm skin scent mixed with the light spice of sweat, and the freshness of the crisp air that gently infuses into your coat and hair during walks in forests.

It was an intoxicating mix of her hair which smelled of soft coconut, a caramel bourbon sweetness tasted on her lips & tongue, with a soft iris lipstick smeared with passion. Writers ink stained her fingers, while mine smelled of her.

When you take a whiff of a scent, it lingers at your nostrils. But remembering is different. It's felt at the back of your nose, closer to the heart and soul. A quiet ache then perches on its bridge.

Old English townhouse and burning wood from the fireplace. He was my father’s age. When I kissed him I used to imagine I could smell his gray hair.

generic girl shampoo

He was obsessed with cleanliness but his armpits smelt acrid, musky, intense, like burning incense without the sweet notes - specially post-workouts and sex. I was so turned on by it that I stopped wearing deodorants after we broke up.

He always smelled like skin that had been outside in the cold air. It reminded me that he wasn't really part of my life.

He smelt like soap and a hint of wet washed clothes. He was musky and clean at the same time. A touch of cocoa butter and shea butter and I could smell the nape of his neck all day.

Gardenia and jasmine with a bitter smell of a cigarette.