Chicago has always been self-consciously aware of its aroma.
Blame it on the fact that the city takes its name from the “shikaakwa,” a native, onion-scented wild leek. The odor of that particular skunk weed no longer permeates the area, but others have come to mark Chicago’s intangible smellscape.
— From The city of big odors, an exploration of Chicago’s “urban bouquet”, with thanks to Allison for the link.
There was nothing remarkable about the cold I caught. But a few weeks after I was otherwise back to feeling normal, my sense of smell and taste hadn’t returned. I went to my doctor, and he said I had a sinus infection, prescribed antibiotics, and told me not to worry. That was three years ago.
— Elizabeth Zierah in The miseries of losing one’s sense of smell at Slate, with thanks to Ruth for the link.
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What a terrifying article on anosmia! I've always had a weird fear of going deaf – it seems somehow worse than blindness to me, because I find I process things better when I hear them aloud. (I read some quote once that said the fear of deafness was the fear of being alone, and was therefore a neurotic, childish fear, sillier than fearing blindness. Pooh pooh, I say to that. Written by a person who is neither deaf or blind, clearly.) But now, of course, I have an awful fear of anosmia. Since I developed my perfume addiction, I find I am much more aware of how often I get colds and I dread the scentless days more than I worry about some of the more uncomfortable symptoms of being ill.
I jokingly describe my other half as “anosmic”, though he has never been diagnosed as such. He can smell perfumes but they all smell the same – vaguely pot pourri. He can taste foods, but only very hot or spicy food, so the only dishes he truly enjoys are curries. He is unable to tell the difference between processed ready meals and the real thing, or a packaged cake and a home made one. Because he has always been this way, he is quite happy, and thinks I am mad for going round sniffing all these different things that smell the same to him. So he is not someone plunged into anosmia, which would indeed be scary if you valued your sense of smell and taste before, but rather someone with a very rudimentary sense of taste and smell to start with who doesn't feel he is missing anything. And he won't clear up pet poo or sick either, because when the cats misbehave, they always revert to being “my cats”, not “ours”.
Erin, I try really hard not to even think about anosmia, LOL — I suppose that is childish and neurotic. In a funny way though, I enjoy not being able to smell because of a cold for a few days, it seems like a break, almost?
How interesting — the opposite of a supertaster!
I read the anosmia article earlier and found it profoundly sad. My heart really goes out to the writer. The Chicago article is interesting to me, because it's the closest big city and I have memories of summer car trips to visit friends. I'm old enough to remember the stockyards, and definitely the smokestacks everywhere. We always had to roll up the car windows when we approached the Skyway because of the smell. Much better now!
He is ever so easy to cater for – you can be a rubbish cook, but he doesn't know what anything is meant to taste like, or what the texture should be, for that matter. And as it happens I am a fairly rubbish cook. It would be much worse if I was a great one, wasting my culinary broth on desert air, or however the phrase goes. Instead, I am disproportionately appreciated.
I suppose it depends on the length of the cold. (And after this article, I will try never to contract a cold again!) Right now, I think, working in a scent-less ICU area is break enough for me…
Heh, Mr. Third Shift is a super-taster. I can sneak a little endive (shredded fine, no less) into a wrapped salad and he immediately asks, “What's bitter?” He can taste the wisp of cayenne I sneak into the chickpeas curry.
That sounds perfect!
Wow, I'm impressed!
It seems profoundly sad to me too, although I guess way worse things can happen