SHOPPING BY SMELL

The olfactory sense, or sense of smell for the unedjimicated, is a subtle sense that may have a greater impact on one's reactions than one is aware of.

This website quotes thusly: "The olfactory system, which senses and processes odors, is one of the oldest and most vital parts of the brain. For most animals, it is the primary mode of communication and influences many important functions, including reproduction and taste."

It is also, for this human animal, the primary mode in deciding where to shop.

I went to Market Mall, here in Calgary, the other day. It's a fairly upscale mall with many fashion stores and hip body shoppes and retro kiosks. It's even undergoing renovations and having a new wing added, so you know it's doing well.

And I found myself doing some seriouso shopping there, for four hours. Normally I'm an in-and-out guy, want it-find it-buy it-GONE, but since Mrs. M and I were shopping for new "nice" gear for her cousin's wedding, and her whole family was in tow, it became less "shopping for clothes" and more "outing to the mall."

The best thing for me to do in these situations is to tell Mrs. M I'll meet her at a prearranged time and place, and go off on my own. Mrs. M shops like a moth; fluttering from place to place with no rhyme or reason, sometimes back to a place she's been before, and it exhausts me; I'm more linear, even when I'm window shopping: Up one hall, down the next, shop on the right, cross to the left, evenly perusing the mall one annex at a time.

Now I've set the stage for you. In my four-hour sojourn, I realized that the overriding factor in deciding my enjoyment of a store, and whether I would shop there, was decided almost entirely by my sense of smell.

I began at the Bay. Big chain store, decent prices, with some upscale fashion couture. But the very first thing about it is the assault on one's nose from the Fragrance District at the mall entrance. Givenchy, L'Oreal, Hugo Boss, Lancome-- my sweet nasal GODS, it's too much. And when all melded together leaves me with no greater impression than the elderly trying desperately to cover up the scent of mortal decay. It's just...funereally floral.

And, to an extent, this colors the entire store. Perfumey. Powdery. Decrepitude covered up by a dusty floral shawl, secreted away in an old attic. These are the impressions my nose filter sends to my brain. So I vacated as soon as possible.

Zellers is equally assaulting, but not in that cover-up-lie kind of way. It's all rubber, plastic, factory; a sharp tang of the newly-assembled; but because of this lends a kind of tawdry air to the place. It's Zellers, after all; cheap, mass-produced, right off the line. You And A Thousand Others Like You. That's the impression there.

Then we move up to Toys R Us: A similar factory-produced smell, but it's cut with the sugar-candy and chalk smell of an elementary school classroom, and the sticky-fingered apple and alphagetti smell of children. These are memory-smells from my own childhood, leaving me open to possibility and excited by the idea that, as an adult, I can buy anything I want here. Mix School with Playground and Toy Factory and you've got it.

The Gap is one of my favorites. See, this is a place that long ago understood the Olfactory Connection. They DELIBERATELY spray their "feature fragrance" in the air every so often so that each Gap smells the same, subtly influencing their customers. And I, for one, respond VERY WELL to their scents. When I walk into a Gap, I feel at ease immediately, but also invigorated; sharp citrus mellowed with an earthy, pine or woody scent. I'm most at home there. And I feel in control; like I know what I want, and why I'm there.

Crabtree and Evelyn USED to be a favorite shop; it had a definite English scent to it, Lavender, Sandalwood and Lilac; potpourri al fresco. But now it's become too much a ladies' store, too perfumey.

The Body Shoppe assaults my nose with too much information, but in a good way; I'm curious about, and enjoy most of, their selection of aromas. And they have the sense to provide coffee beans to 'clear the palate' with between sniffs. Smart.

I realized that smell is everything to me. It's the FIRST, and the LAST, impression I have of a place. I walk into a mall, and I can tell you right away if I even want to be there. Marlborough Mall is a nasal abomination of old cigarette smoke, sweat and unfavorable grease; Chinook Mall is a newly-minted facade of decadent delights that hint that you can't afford them but should be checked out anyway.

Chapters stores always smell like books and coffee, and if they could bottle THAT and sell it I would scent my house with it! I would like to spend my whole day there, just sitting on a couch and SMELLING. It's wonderful.

So the next time you're out shopping, take a moment to listen to your what your nose is telling you. Consciously understanding what it is that you smell may help to enhance your shopping experience-- or convince you to find a better place to shop.

Posted by Agent M at November 16, 2003 11:05 AM