Smell is one of our strongest memory-triggers. For example, I can insta-recall any given boyfriend stint by smelling Bath & Body Works lotion. Country Apple. Ah, the good ol’ days. Mind you, the city carries all sorts of its own smells. Good = roasting (burning?) street-stand peanuts in the winter. Bad = the MTA wafting up from sidewalk grates. Or garbage. There’s lots of garbage.
Speaking of the malodorous subway… the *other* rail system accessing NYC is NJ’s Path Train. Now, the Path emmits an entirely different, yet still very discerning, smell. So much so, when sauntering down the street I can smell a Path entrance before I actually see the Path entrance. Powerful stuff. And over the years I’ve dated several boys that live in New Jersey. The intersection of 14th St./6th Avenue, conveniently suited with both a NYC subway and a Path stop, was always the scene of the you-go-that-way-I-go-this-way awkward goodnight kiss; the act of which perpetually chaperoned by that Jersey-bound aroma. Mmmmm everlasting memories. Maybe B&BW will start to market “Pungent Path.” A kiss to build a dream on.