lavender and sweat

One of my favorite parts of the savages is when the man Wendy is having an affair with is on the phone with her. he’s calling from her apartment, and, laying on her bed, he says that her smell is like lavender and sweat, and he says it really affectionately. their relationship is such a bittersweet little subplot. he’s laying in her bed on the phone speaking with her, her cat might be in the frame, or his dog, i can’t remember, and he’s smelling one of her shirts or pillows. i always liked that because i’ve always liked the smell of bodies and it’s nice when other people appreciate things like that. people are really offended by body odor and smells that aren’t “clean” (emphasize those quotations) the reasons for which i’ve never really grasped. lavender and sweat is such a good combination. i think my love for the smell of bodies can be attributed in part to one of my old boyfriends because he never showered and he always smelled so good and warm. i can’t remember his smell anymore and i haven’t seen him in almost 2 years but when i stuck my head into his room sometime in late December it came back to me like an old friend. and that was it, i put my head into Matt’s room for two seconds and i smelled him and remembered, of course. it’s also because even when i have showered i still have a distinct smell that some people would consider an “odor” but i can’t tell you how many times i’ve also been approached by people who say that they secretly love my scent. that’s what they say, “secretly”, like it’s a secret. i don’t know one person who’d say they don’t like smells in general but at the same time i don’t know many people who would say that they like the smell of a body untainted by perfume, scented lotion, deodorant, aftershave, whatever, or at least they’d be afraid to admit it. remember, “it’s a secret”. it’s not even that i don’t like the smells of those things. take lavender for instance. i myself have lavender deodorant. it’s a good smell. if someone smells like lavender chances are it’s really pleasant. or a nice spicy aftershave, or what have you. but when i hug someone i don’t want to always smell old spice. actually, bad example, because i love the smell of old spice, so let’s say i don’t want to exclusively smell old spice. on the other hand, that’s just one of many rewards of getting to know someone intimately, because you (ideally) get to experience their “true” scent. that in itself is really intimate. it’s only ever more inviting when you just smell like yourself. i don’t usually leave the best impressions on people but one thing people have said about me is that i’m “warm” and i don’t doubt it’s partly because of my unimposing odor, you know. humility. at the same time it’s logical to think that since we have scent memories we’re more likely to remember someone who has a distinct, personal smell as opposed to some artificial one that ten thousand other people smell of too, which doesn’t sound very humble, and it isn’t about being remembered, it’s just nice to smell like yourself, it’s a part of being who you are. it’s also nice to not be able to identify precisely what someone smells like, at least not entirely. it’s like when you’re tasting wine, smelling is really the most important part. and when people smell wine they observe that the wine might smell like blackberries or chocolate or cherries but the wine doesn’t have blackberries, chocolate or cherries in it, the wine exudes its own smell, and that smell is subjective to the taster. when you’re smelling a person you don’t have the same systematic way of observing that you do when you taste wine but it’s still subjective to an extent because you smell things that not everybody else is smelling. if you’re wearing lavender deodorant you’ll smell like lavender. if you’re also wearing a shirt you haven’t washed in a few days then you’ll smell like lavender but also like a plethora of other unidentifiable smells. what’s offensive about that?