What Smells Like Skunk?

Has my olfactory system betrayed me?

Wandering the streets of Downtown Chicago after dark with friends, I suddenly catch a whiff of a familiar, yet unpleasant smell.

“Why does it smell like skunk? Are there really skunks in the city?” I queried. 

(In my defense, we legit saw a red fox hanging out by the Bean sculpture during our visit, so the possibility was not out of the question.)

“Anne, that’s not skunk,” says one of my friends. “That’s weed!” she explains. 

Oh, wow. I was clueless. I thought my nose knew better. 

Perhaps my two bouts with COVID and its seemingly temporary alterations to my senses of taste and smell were more of a permanent disablement, even though the bland world without the joys of these experiences did seem to subside.

I realize that so many scents in my world smell like skunk to me now: skunk (obviously; and living out in the country, we smell this a lot), coffee brewing (unfortunate, I know.), car exhaust, sometimes poop (a smell encountered frequently as a healthcare provider and equally unfortunate), and now weed. 

My therapist seemed intrigued by my description of the smell of my internal adrenaline rushes, which I describe as “acrid.” As a child, I experienced a similar smell when I tried to fathom the concept of an infinite universe; it’s as if my brain burned with the effort to comprehend it. 

She asked me if I’ve always been sensitive to smells, but I couldn’t remember at the time. 

After I thought about it some more, I recalled that a smell often takes me back to a place in my past. Running near the Sauer’s spice factory in downtown Richmond sends me to the spice shop on St. John in the USVI. It’s a pleasant throwback. Or walking into someone’s home that reminds me of my grandma’s house. Or how something I brought out of my suitcase on vacation still smells like home (and if I’m lucky, also adorned with cat or dog glitter).

The other question my therapist asked was if I was sensitive to perfumes. This I could positively confirm. 

There was that disgusting Giorgio perfume back in the 80s that everyone wore back then; that and its designer imposter counterpart. Trapping me in a room with someone doused with that concoction surely equaled a headache for me. 

But now, at work, there’s a guy who stocks our supply closets and simply smells divine. I always conveniently have a supply need when he’s stocking. (If you smelled him, you’d understand.)

And I love that song by Twenty-one Pilots about being stressed out. Do you know the line about the scented candle? Yes. That one. About making a candle that smells like home. What a great idea for a side hustle. 

Do you know that retail chains pump signature scents into their stores? Like every Wawa bathroom smells the same. The Gap locations smell identical. So do Abercrombie and Fitch stores. The list goes on. That shit is purposeful. 

Compared to the pleasant aromas at the mall, the grocery store can be downright revolting to me, especially near the seafood and meat departments. It makes me want to vomit every time I smell that rank fishiness. It’s an area where I’ve learned to breathe through my mouth, not my nose. 

But some smells bring me comfort, like baking bread, the cinnamony scent of my cat, the familiar and not unpleasant smell of my dog, books, and how my husband’s cologne mixes with his chemistry. 

Perhaps my favorite scent is the magnolia flower. I wish I could bottle it and wear it. Prevalent Virginia, it’s always a great time of year when these trees are in bloom. I often plan my runs to pass areas where these trees live. 

What continues to be most fascinating about my olfactory system is its perception of the smell of skunk and how it simply groups that with the scent of so many seemingly unrelated things. 

Maybe my nose is a traitor.

At least when my daughter and I traveled to London this summer and encountered that skunk smell in multiple US airports and the streets of London, I knew what it was! And it was definitely not skunk. 

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Lead photo of a skunk free from Openverse.

Are you sensitive to smells? And does your nose play tricks on you, too? I’d love to hear about it!

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.