A Pungent Lack: Why We're Stuck with Stinky Words When Describing Pleasant Smells
The power of smell is undeniable, and its ability to evoke memories and emotions can be overwhelming. However, our language seems woefully inadequate when it comes to describing delightful odors. The words we do have – stink, pong, reek – only serve to emphasize the unpleasant aspects of smells, leaving us with a stark contrast in our vocabulary.
The Welsh language offers a solution, with verbs like "clywed" and "mirišiti", which allow for nuanced expressions that convey both the presence and quality of a pleasant smell. The former verb encompasses not just smelling, but also sensing or feeling a particular aroma, while the latter specifically connotes a sense of pleasantness. These words enable speakers to describe an experience like a vanilla-scented memory as "miriši", neither good nor bad, simply existing.
The importance of scent in evoking memories was highlighted by Michael O'Shaugnessy's work with prisoners, where scents like lavender and vanilla proved to be effective triggers for emotional responses. This phenomenon is evident in listener accounts, which describe specific smells linked to cherished memories, from the scent of cut grass to the smell of 80s snooker halls.
The author reflects on this limitation in our language, musing that a word to describe a pleasant smell would round out our vocabulary and provide an alternative to stinky words. This desire for precision is evident in their plan to visit Bache Brothers Cycles, a bike shop from their childhood, and see if the scent has changed over time.
The limitations of our language raise questions about how we perceive and communicate the subtleties of sensory experiences. Are there other aspects of smell that remain unexplored by words? Is it possible that the absence of such verbs in our language is a reflection of its focus on more intense, dramatic experiences rather than everyday, pleasant ones?
The answer may lie in finding new ways to describe and engage with smells, using both linguistic innovation and sensory exploration. By acknowledging the power of scent to evoke memories and emotions, we may be able to develop a more nuanced vocabulary that captures the full range of our sensory experiences.
The power of smell is undeniable, and its ability to evoke memories and emotions can be overwhelming. However, our language seems woefully inadequate when it comes to describing delightful odors. The words we do have – stink, pong, reek – only serve to emphasize the unpleasant aspects of smells, leaving us with a stark contrast in our vocabulary.
The Welsh language offers a solution, with verbs like "clywed" and "mirišiti", which allow for nuanced expressions that convey both the presence and quality of a pleasant smell. The former verb encompasses not just smelling, but also sensing or feeling a particular aroma, while the latter specifically connotes a sense of pleasantness. These words enable speakers to describe an experience like a vanilla-scented memory as "miriši", neither good nor bad, simply existing.
The importance of scent in evoking memories was highlighted by Michael O'Shaugnessy's work with prisoners, where scents like lavender and vanilla proved to be effective triggers for emotional responses. This phenomenon is evident in listener accounts, which describe specific smells linked to cherished memories, from the scent of cut grass to the smell of 80s snooker halls.
The author reflects on this limitation in our language, musing that a word to describe a pleasant smell would round out our vocabulary and provide an alternative to stinky words. This desire for precision is evident in their plan to visit Bache Brothers Cycles, a bike shop from their childhood, and see if the scent has changed over time.
The limitations of our language raise questions about how we perceive and communicate the subtleties of sensory experiences. Are there other aspects of smell that remain unexplored by words? Is it possible that the absence of such verbs in our language is a reflection of its focus on more intense, dramatic experiences rather than everyday, pleasant ones?
The answer may lie in finding new ways to describe and engage with smells, using both linguistic innovation and sensory exploration. By acknowledging the power of scent to evoke memories and emotions, we may be able to develop a more nuanced vocabulary that captures the full range of our sensory experiences.
I was at the park yesterday and smelled this amazing lavender bush 
it reminded me of my grandma's garden when I was little... anyway, have you ever noticed how food smells can transport you back to childhood? Like, just thinking about a certain type of cookie can bring back memories of school lunches or family gatherings. It's like our brains are hardwired to associate smells with emotions and experiences from the past. Maybe we don't need more words for pleasant smells because our brains are already doing all the work 
...
. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have more options for describing pleasant smells - who wouldn't want to say "miriši" instead of just "nice"? 
I mean, think about it, if we had a word that actually captured the essence of a nice smell, wouldn't it make all the difference? Like, "ah, I'm so mirišti right now" instead of just "I love this vanilla scent". It's not like it's rocket science, is it?! 
And what's with our language being so focused on drama and intensity? Can't we appreciate a good ol' fashioned pleasant smell without having to go all out? 
. And it's not just about describing smells, it's about tapping into our emotions and memories. I mean, have you ever smelled something and BAM! You're instantly transported back to your childhood or a special moment? That's the power we're talking about 
. So yeah, let's get creative with our language and see what kind of new experiences we can evoke 
.