Smell of Books is an amusing selection of imaginary fragrances for bilibiophiles, with names such as "classic musty" and "eau you have cats."
"Have you been avoiding e-books because they just don’t smell right?," the site asks. "…all of that is changing thanks to Smell of Books™, a revolutionary new aerosol e-book enhancer."
If you're wanting the real thing, though, count yourself lucky. The Demeter Fragrance Library, a selection of novelty perfumes and colognes, sells a scent called Paperback in all sorts of different product variations.
There are also, allegedly, scented candles to help evoke the high of the smell of old paper.
Lignin is apparently the magic ingredient: The chemical composition of
"Old Book Smell" Read the rest
Ambergris in Morecambe, England. [BBC]
Read the rest
A man from Morecambe believes his dog has found a rare piece of whale vomit while walking on the beach. ... Mr Wilman said: "When I picked it up and smelled it I put it back down again and I thought 'urgh'.
Pizza Hut Canada produced a limited-edition perfume. Apparently, Eau de Pizza Hut has "“top notes of freshly baked, hand-tossed dough." I guess it beats smelling like pepperoni or anchovies. (TODAY, via NextDraft) Read the rest
Expect America's malls to soon become orange-scented. A new study by Washington State University researchers suggests that "simple scents" -- they tested orange -- can stimulate a bump in retail sales. This is compared to no smell or "complex scents" like an orange-basil-green tea blend used in this study. From WSU:
The researchers say the (simple) scent is more easily processed, freeing the customer’s mind to focus on shopping. But when that "bandwidth” is unavailable customers don’t perform cognitive tasks as effectively, says (Eric) Spangenberg, (dean of the College of Business)...
"WSU researchers tie simple scent to increased retail sales
" Read the rest
A peculiar smell filled the sinister expanse of our basement. We loaded the Victorian-era sinks to clear anything stuck in the drainage traps, disposed of old paints and chemicals, and inspected the closets and boxes for culprits. Nothing.
Weeks passed, until the odor began to permeate upstairs into the house itself. Leaving no corner unexplored, we finally lifted the toilet lid in the basement's ancient, haunted lavatory. Floating, face down, was a massive drowned rat. Underwater, the fur remained; in the air, it had delaminated. An island of smooth, naked ratskin rose from the water, bordered by a grayish crown of putrefaction.
Nearby, the remains of a fly. Read the rest