‘What’s that smell?’ My seven-year-old keeps asking this, from her middle-seat in the back of the inevitable family four-wheel-drive. No one knows what the smell is, or will admit to owning it. I like to think of it as the intangible odour of youth – a mixture of sweat, anxiety and optimism – it smells like ‘what’s next?’, ‘are we there yet?’, or ‘has anyone got phone coverage yet?’ It is, more practically, the scent of clothes that haven’t been washed recently, of food still uneaten from hours ago, of perfumes and colognes that haven’t yet been grown into. It’s also the scent of us – our family – the smells that mingle and collectively characterise our present while reminding us of our past, and hint of our future.
|Publication status||Published - Oct 2019|