We often sense a season’s change by smelling it before we see its signs in nature. “Spring is in the air,” we might say. It’s hard to put your finger on, but your nose can catch it. It’s that sudden shift in sunlight slanting through pale green leaves, newly unfurled and tenderly fluttering; a bursting of plump buds on stems into gasp-making blossoms, the welcome sight of green grass replacing muddy patches, and little clusters of flowers who’ve bravely battled through winter to make it here: the smell of hopefulness returning. We might also be able to smell rain in the air – did you know we’re evolutionarily primed to? Our extraordinary noses can sense an incoming spring shower impressively early: we can smell geosmin (the compounds responsible for the earthy smell of rain, called petrichor) at five parts per trillion.
We just need to tap into that sense of change burgeoning around us to really appreciate it, to welcome it into our homes with a smile. And, you know the best thing about seasonally scent-scaping your surroundings (and yourself)? You don’t need to bother with pots of paint or shifting furniture – lighting the right candle, switching up a new diffuser or incorporating a brighter, breezier personal scent into your routine can instantly change the atmosphere and, consequently, your mood, to feel right for right now. However, spring is the most in-between-y of all the seasons, don’t you think? So, if you find transitional scenting tricky, look for a balance of notes that feels like the best of both worlds.
One of my favorite combinations is the cool, grounding breeze of vetiver (which can also smell of petrichor infused with a zingy citrus). Immediately uplifting and yet soul-soothing, this combination feels like a sunny day after a week of showers. Meanwhile, ingredients such as orange and ginger evoke warming sunlight streaming through natural linen curtains, when paired with the smooth, soothing hush of sandalwood.
Perhaps you might try ‘layering’ scents to create a bespoke seasonal blend. I like something immediately joyous and welcoming in an entranceway, such as an orange-blossom-drenched fragrance in reed-diffuser form for 24/7 olfaction.
Then, bring invisible blooms into the living room via floral notes and freshly cut grass – as though you’ve just thrown open the windows and shouted, “hallelujah!” at feeling warm enough to perform that act again, teamed with the humble pleasure of hearing a lawnmower’s buzz. In here, I’d use candles – they look great as decoration, can gently scent a room even unlit. Lighting them in spring always makes me smile, because I once had a conversation with a Scandinavian friend, who’d just moved here, about how we Brits often save candles for winter. She laughed, and said, “But they’re not for lighting your room, any more, are they? Unless you’re living in a Dickens novel. They’re for changing the feeling.” And she’s so right, isn’t she?
In bedrooms, it’s lovely to use an electronic diffuser, I feel, for at-a-touch mood setting, and using calming scents (like that vetiver, or something whisperingly woody and gentle) to aid much-needed relaxation, or, perhaps, playfully flirting with sensual blooms of tuberose and jasmine here, tenderly touched with a hug of powdery orris, or fluffy cashmere in the base.
Really, however you decide to use scent this season, I think the most important thing is to light those candles, wear that favorite fragrance, take joy in every moment of these lighter days, and promise to save nothing ‘for best’. Our best is right this second – so let’s breathe in hungry lungfuls of the mown grass and buds and blossoms, take joy in the scent of hope returning, and throw open those windows in relief to (finally!) welcome spring in.