Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Synaesthesia of Scent


In The Diary of a Nose, perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena writes, "Green is the only color that makes sense as a smell," adding that, in his collection of raw materials, he has different kinds of green including gentle, harsh, smooth, sharp, dense, etc. Among these he has greens "that smell of beans, fig leaves, syringa, ivy, seaweed, elder, boxwood, hyacinth, lawns, and peas."

He might be right, in one sense, given that of all the colors green is used maybe most frequently as a descriptive. Green chypre, for instance - or green floral. When I think of any number of fragrances I picture the color green. I can't talk about, or wear, Jean-Louis Scherrer or Givenchy III without seeing the fields of parched summer grass I remember from my childhood vacations in rural Arkansas. Alliage brings to mind bitter snapped stems. Clinique Wrappings is a shock of fir peeking out from under banks of aldehyde snow; Tauer's Cologne du Maghreb, a dish of fresh herbs. Ellena says every perfumer runs the hazard of conjuring mental images of toothpaste when using mint in a composition, but I smell it in many fragrances and think of herb gardens.


It might be more accurate to say that green is the color that gets the most mileage in the scent vocabulary. Red, for instance, is a little trickier, but some rose-centered fragrances do read to me as red. Une Rose has always brought to mind a deep red velvet when I smell it; Agent Provocateur, a drier shade on the spectrum, like something long sitting out in a potpourri dish. Miss Dior Cherie - don't let's get started on exactly which version - reminds me of fresh strawberries; not just their smell but their damp, staining skins. Lipstick Rose evokes the obvious - but even Arden's Red Door recalls the crimson lipstick my grandmother applied with a brush from its tube.


I often think pink, especially with the contemporary spate of fruity florals. Baby Doll is strictly bright fuchsia tutus and tart berry innards. Yellow crops up every so often too - buttery yellow for certain floral compositions, palest yellow for scents whose vibe feels incredibly buttery to me, whether from orris root or otherwise. Daffodils pop up in my head. More often than anything I imagine golden yellow to orange hues, probably because orientals are one of my favorite types of fragrance. Alahine is golden light at dusk, casting everything in a late afternoon glow. Mitsouko is a brassier shade, something like peaches steeped in liquid sun. I even think of white, when I smell White Linen - something scorched of all color, singeing the senses.


Sometimes I wonder if some of us have a rare offshoot of synaesthesia when it comes to scent. The synaesthete cross-pollinates the senses in ways most people don't. She might see a number and hear it as a sound, for instance. She might see a color and experience it as a smell. What about the other way round, I wonder. What about seeing a scent as a color, as a sort of tinted wash that spreads over our senses? Has anyone seen MARNIE, the Hitchcock film, where Tippie Hedren's kleptomaniac goes into fugues, seeing red when an object or a situation triggers certain emotions? During these episodes the whole screen goes blood red. I wonder if scent is like that for some of us.

It's not quite as cinematic with me, but most of the smells I love do filter the images they conjure through some emotionally corresponding colored lens. When I smell Vent Vert, I do see green - my mind goes right to an analogous image - a field, a spring lawn, fresh shoots proliferating on deciduous branches. It's like that in some way with every scent I smell. So I'm not sure I agree with Ellena, whose own Kelly Caleche tints my imagination a specific sort of pale but vibrant metallic pastel.

12 comments:

Elisa said...

I see almost all scents in color! I think the pink smell connection is even stronger than green. In fact, even when I know to describe something as a "green floral," I don't always see it in green. Galbanum is kind of a drab olive green to my nose/eye, not a bright grassy green, as in lime or some violet leaf materials.

Bryan Ross said...

When I saw the picture I immediately thought this was going to be a post about Daniela Andrier's fragrance "Marni"

Anonymous said...

I have a very broad type of synaesthesia that applies to musical sounds as well as numbers and letters. It definitely does extend to scents, though it is stronger with tastes.

I have no idea why, but fragrances with dominant tea notes tend to be a soft purple. Chanel #5 is antique gold, but with a layer of dust. Chanel #22 is bronzy-pink, and sort of a plush texture. Mitsouko has the colour and texture of thick golden syrup. L'Eau d'Issey is pale blue silk, and Chanel Chance (which I wear most days) is made of bright green crystals.

Brian said...

I don't think of galbanum as a bright green either, Elisa. For me it registers silvery green somehow, maybe a dying green. I probably see pink the least, green, red and gold the most. This could have to do with years of advertising, which probably taught me how to visualize perfume in a lot of ways. It seems like green, red, and gold, if they haven't been the most used in advertising fragrance, have left the biggest impression.

Brian said...

I haven't smelled the recently released Marni, Bryan, but when it came out I was convinced it had already been out for a while. Seems to me I got a sample with purchase several years ago. It came in a tiny box and the bottle was in the shape of a doll, with arms and legs akimbo. And it smelled exactly the way I read Marni described. When I first heard of it I thought of the Hitchcock film, but that name always reminds me of the movie.

Brian said...

Strangely, anonymous, tea notes are one of the few I don't really get a color from. I don't know why. I like tea scents but don't tend to love them, so maybe that's it. I seem to only picture colors with a fragrance I have a strong visceral reaction to - one that thrusts my imagination somewhere solid. Tea is usually, for me, Oh, that's nice. Whereas, say, an oriental totally takes over my senses. Same with most chypres and deeper "green" frags.

Joan said...

I do think of colors as associated with perfumes sometimes. To me, Tocade is cherry red, Fracas is purple, White Linen is more of a natural muslin color, Habanita is deep brown, and Chamade is canary yellow.

Gwenyth said...

I have come to realize I am a "sensualist" in that I am highly attracted to whatever intrigues my various senses at a given moment in time.
I love scents - perfumes, yes, but also the smell of places.
I love colors - in paintings, in sunsets, in gardens, in fabrics.
I love texture - in landscapes, in plants, in food, in clothes, in furnishings.
I love touch - the feel of silk against my skin, the feel of a breeze on my face, the warmth of the sun, etc.
I love sound - (in this area I am fairly specific, however) Music is a passion.

Frequently, the sensual impressions cross over each other. The most common cross over for me is when I smell a scent and visualize a color. It is common for me, when describing a scent to someone, to incorporate a variety of sensations and how I react to them; usually using descriptions of color, place and a particular type of fabric. For instance, when describing Mauboussin by Mauboussin, I've called in to play descriptions of warm peach & plum compote spooned over rich vanilla ice cream with a splash of cognac,the dish of which is sitting on a mahogany table draped with lush purple velvet.

Thanks again for a fantastic post! I adore your writing and your thought-provoking perspectives.

Brian said...

I think maybe Chamade is canary yellow to me too, Joan. Somewhere between lemon and lime.

Brian said...

Aargh, Gwenyth! When I was writing about Miss Habanita, after this post, I was searching my brain for a word I'd had but lost days ago - not steeped fruits, but compote! I sat there for a good ten minutes trying to remember. And here it is! Going back to revise...

Victoria Gonzalez said...

Most manufacturers use green in advertising their products. Color really attracts and my all-time favorite are Chanel fragrances.

Tina Knight said...

I always see the color of pink in most of the fragrances of the perfume especially the ones with fruit scent in it. Although, I must say that a lot of people like the scent of a rosy red.