Ologies with Alie Ward - Literary Olfactology (THE POLITICS OF SMELL) with Ally Louks

Episode Date: July 30, 2025

Smell and culture. Scent descriptions in novels. Fragrances and class. Stink and stigmas. We cover it all. Scholar, author, and Literary Olfactologist Dr. Ally Louks burst into the zeitgeist in 2024 with her PhD thesis “Olfactory Ethics: The Politics Of Smell In Modern And Contemporary Prose” and we finally got to sit down and talk about the intersection of art and smell and culture. Breathe in the foul, the fragrant, the peppermint, the tobacco, why motel rooms smell the way they do, the forgotten organ that could control your love life, spices at the root of xenophobia, perfume ads that cruised a movement, obscenity trials, explosions, following your first love and getting the last laugh.Follow Dr. Louks on Instagram and BlueskyA donation went to UN Crisis Relief’s Occupied Palestinian Territory Humanitarian FundMore episode sources and linksOther episodes you may enjoy: Rhinology (NOSES), Gustology (TASTE), Misophonology (DISTRACTING SOUND & NOISE RAGE), Disgustology (REPULSION TO GROSS STUFF), Coffeeology (YEP, COFFEE), Black American Magirology (FOOD, RACE & CULTURE), Indigenous Cuisinology (NATIVE COOKING), Cosmetology (GLAM/GROOMING), Genocidology (CRIMES OF ATROCITY)400+ episodes sorted by topicSmologies (short, classroom-safe) episodesSponsors of OlogiesTranscripts and bleeped episodesBecome a patron of Ologies for as little as a buck a monthOlogiesMerch.com has hats, shirts, hoodies, totes!Follow Ologies on Instagram and BlueskyFollow Alie Ward on Instagram and TikTokEditing by Mercedes Maitland of Maitland Audio Productions and Jake ChaffeeManaging Director: Susan HaleScheduling Producer: Noel DilworthTranscripts by Aveline Malek Website by Kelly R. DwyerTheme song by Nick Thorburn

Oh, hey, it's the ashtray you used during the quarantine years that you repurposed as a watercolor paint dish. Allie Ward, this is ologies. This is a subject that none of you know jack shit about because what even is it? It's great. That's what it is. So this ologist came to my attention after a very, very weird, very public thing that happened to them last fall. And I had so many messages begging me to interview them. And it was not a hard sell.

I waited until life calmed down a bit and then got them on the line to chat about what they do. Now, smell and culture, scent descriptions in novels, fragrances, and class, stink, stigmas, we cover it all, including their very weird and gripping backstory. So they have a bachelor's in English literature from the University of Exeter and a master's in issues in modern culture from the University College London. They recently completed a Ph.D. at Cambridge University. They're now a supervisor in English lit at Cambridge. We talk about all kinds of smells and a fewer growth. but just hang in there. That's kind of the whole point of this. Also, this isn't our primary olfactology episode. We still need a whole episode about how a smell works, but this is a social science, academic, deep, weird dive into how we talk about smells, and I love every minute of this. Boy, howdy, this is a wild ride. It's an instant classic. So we're going to get into it in a second,

but first thank you to patrons who support the show for a dollar a month or more at patreon.com slash ologies. Thanks to everyone walking around in ologies merch from ologiesmerch.com. And for no dollars, you can leave a review of which I read all, including this one from Meha D-79, who wrote that ologies is a perfect example of the ability of passionate, knowledgeable people to make any subject fascinating. Things that I would never have thought could keep my attention. They say are made into a delicious cocktail full of facts, stories, and humor for my thirsty brain, from string theory to asking if scallops have buttholes. Mayha, D-79. Thank you for celebrating our essence. Also, if you don't celebrate it because you don't like swear words or you need to listen with your kids, we have shorter classroom, safe, G-rated episodes, and a spin-off show called Smologis. It's hours and hours of free entertainment, wherever you get podcasts. Also, you can find a whole catalog of our 400-plus regular Ologies episodes, anywhere you get podcasts or just by hitting up Ologies.com, where they're all organized. Okay, so let's get into this episode and wait around for their absolutely bonkers.

life story. And toward the end, they make a revelation about them that shocked me. It left me gagged. So hang tight. Breathe in deep. The foul, the fragrant, the peppermint, the tobacco, why motel rooms smell the way they do, the forgotten organ that could control your love life, spices at the root of xenophobia, perfume ads that cruised a movement, obscenity trials, explosions, following your first love and getting the last laugh. with scholar, author, and literary olfactologist, Dr. Allie Lukes. I am Ali Lukes, and I use she-her pronouns. And Dr. Ali Lukes, correct? Yes. Yes. Honestly, other people care more about whether people use my title than I do. But it has kind of become a bit of a persona. Yes. So I do quite like being able to say Dr. Ali Lukes, it's still a novelty to me. Do you remember off the top of your head the full title of your PhD? My gosh, I definitely do. It's

olfactory ethics, the politics of smell in modern and contemporary prose. And you have a bound thesis of it, as one does, right? I do not have a PhD, but you get it bound, you have the work that you've been working on for several years in a volume, and there it is. Yes. It's kind of like a book. I mean, it's book length. So it feels like it ought to be a tangible thing that you can interact with after it's been a word document for the best part of four years. And have you always been a big reader, I imagine? What was your childhood like?

Were you just curled up in the most adorable reading nook with like a stack of library books? Yes, basically. I read in a very self-directed way from a very young age. And yeah, books have basically been my life, my entire life. when did you start to realize that literature would be the focus of your career? Was there a point where you said, oh, I can continue to study this and teach this? Or were you like, I just don't want to put books down and I'm going to keep going as far as I can take this? Kind of both, I suppose. When I was

applying for university, I was really stuck about whether to apply for philosophy or English. And I've always had kind of one foot in each discipline. I kind of melded the two by working on ethics in literature. I could look into philosophy if I wanted to or critical and cultural theory and history. And that's something that I love about English literature is that it allows you to amalgamate a lot of different things, which is great. And I love stories. They kind of give meaning to my life. So I couldn't possibly give that up. And I feel very privileged that I've managed to spend pretty much a decade making stories my life's work. What a dream. Was there a particular book that sort of really ignited your curiosity about how smell is portrayed? Was there one in particular

where you kept noticing it as a theme? Yes, but I had to become interested in smell before I could notice it. So I became interested in smell in the second year of my undergraduate degree because I took a creative writing module where we had to create a poetry collection around a particular theme. And I chose the theme of perfume because I'd become really interested in the conceptual qualities of perfume advertisements. How, you know, when you would watch a television advert for a perfume, it never seemed to mention the smell of the perfume. Be the man of today. That's so true. It would always kind of try and sell you like a lifestyle or a feeling. And I started

looking at like advertisement copy on websites that sold perfume like Dipteak, for instance. And the authors of those advertisements would have to contend with this linguistic restriction surrounding smell. Like we don't have a particularly developed olfactory vocabulary in English. And so it It meant that it created really interesting writing. It became kind of synesthetic and evocative. And then once I was interested in smell, I started seeing it everywhere. Like, whenever I was reading, it was kind of like suddenly jumping out at me, whereas before I probably would have just not really noticed, like most other people when they read. And the first book that I really started working on at length in relation to smell was Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

Heads up. This isn't much of a spoiler. But in the 1955 book, Lolita, this is a classic work of fiction. It involves a man obsessed with young girls, who he calls Nimfetz. And he is enraptured with a 12-year-old named Dolis, nicknamed Dolly, or Lolita. And he becomes her stepfather. He sexually assaults and abuses her. It's horrifying. But based on decades of cultural references and movie adaptations. You probably already knew that plot. So when you see mentions in the news of a private plane named the Lolita Express, there's a little context. And I mean, most people who have read Lolita would not really be aware of the smell content in that book. But I promise, if you were to go away and reread it or read it for the first time with smell and mind, you would realize that it's

absolutely fundamental to the story. Really, like what types of things jumped out? to you. So initially, like within the first few pages, we discover that Humbert Humbert, this horrible fiendish narrator, was actually a perfume advertiser. No. In his previous career, it says that he worked in advertising for his uncle's perfume company. No way. And what I suggest when I talk about Lolita and when I write about it is that actually the whole novel becomes a kind of perfume advertisement for Dolores and for the kind of the nymphet creature that Humbert, Humbert kind of creates in his head as this demonic race of little girls who have this incredible magical power.

Gross. And when I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on Lolita and I actually included little smell samples. Oh, that's amazing. For each of the sections of the thesis based on the smells in the novel. What types of samples were they? What types of notes do they have? So I'll give you a couple of examples.

One of the things that Humbert Humbert says of Dolores Hayes is that she smells like chestnuts, roses and peppermint. Oh, that's specific. Which is actually a very complicated smell. And he also adds on to that, you know, the smell of a very special French perfume as well. So Humbert writes a poem in the book that reads, Dolly, my folly. Her eyes were verre and never closed when I kissed her.

No, an old perfume called Solevere. Are you from Paris, mister? And Humbert describes this old perfume as the, quote, very delicate, very special French perfume I latterly allowed her to use. And it's suspected by readers of the book to have notes of anise and fennel and absent, hence the green. and its name Solévert, it translates to Green Sun. Now, this perfume I looked doesn't actually exist, but a fascinating fact, I went down a rabbit hole on the 1966 Harry Harrison sci-fi novel about the threat of overpopulation. It was called Make Room, Make Room.

It was adapted into the movie Soylent Green. In the book, Soylent is a portmanteau of soy and lentil, but in France, the movie is titled Sole Verre. So perhaps Harry Harrison was a Navakoff fan. or just really like fictitious French perfumes. So we've got this special French perfume plus all of these kind of incongruous notes. And I also included towards the end where there's this section about Humbert's own smell, where he kind of describes himself as in his moments of moral clarity, if there are any,

he kind of describes himself as this horrible stinking beast. And so I included a sample of secretion, Magnific, which is this horrible – I mean, some people actually quite like it, but I find it really repulsive, this horrible kind of niche perfume, which is supposed to smell like bodily fluids and like blood and that kind of thing. So the intended effect was for it to evoke in the examiners, the kind of moral repulsion that Nabokov is trying to evoke in the reader. Oh, that's brilliant. How did your advisors and how did the committee react to that? They loved it. They really did. I got an incredibly high mark, I think probably just because it was so unique. I can't imagine that many other people have ever cented their dissertation. I picture those kind of folios in magazines where you can fold back the little flap and then scratch and sniff, you know? I love that kind of thing. I think they took them out of a lot of magazines, which I'm bumped about. I used to rub them on my wrists and neck and be like, free perfume, I'll take it. Okay, I looked into this. And for decades, it's been known that those really delicious perfume samples in magazines have been an issue for folks with asthma and allergies.

There was a 1995 study titled Inhalation Challenge Effects of Perfume Sense Strips in Patients with Asthma, and it confirmed that chest tightness and wheezing occurred in nearly 21% of asthmatic patients after perfume challenges. But with the decline in sales for print publishing and more people just taking fashion inspo from whatever isn't being shamed as millennial on TikTok, magazine sales and thus ad sales have fallen. And so that's really been the driving factor of why we can't sniff Vogue as much. Although those in the perfume industry do give the heads up that in April and May before Mother's Day and in December before the gift-giving frenzy of the holidays, you might be able to smell more magazines. There might be some more perfume ad revivals in them, if you miss them.

And what about some other smells in novels and in poetry? The way that people are portrayed, do you find that that goes through their bodily smells or their food smells or their perfumes? Like, what types of notes? What do those notes draw on a lot? Gosh, big question. The nice thing about literature is that very often it kind of replicates but also intensifies life. So all of those things can be found in literature. You know, comments on people's bodily smells, comments on people's food, especially when that food is kind of new to someone. The whole point of smell really is for us to notice new things in our environment. So my former supervisor, Steve Connor, says that smell is the sense of discrimination. It helps us distinguish the ripe from the rotten and the good from the bad. And that's its kind of function for us. So very often in real life, as in literature, smell kind of acts as a way of sometimes othering people,

but also kind of registering discomfort with the otherness of people. and their weird ways and behaviors and foods. Did you have to talk to any old factologists about the olfactory bulb and its role in memory and the hippocampus? I understand that we can't really identify smells unless we have something in our memory to compare them to or kind of a simile. Like how are smells processed in the brain? Oh my gosh, that really is a big question.

So, okay. I know more about smell science than I do any other kind of science, that's for sure. So smell has this very unique relationship to parts of the brain that really evoke, you know, memory and emotion and association as well, the hippocampus. And one of the things about smell is that it doesn't go through the same kind of processing as other sensory perceptions. So when we smell something, it evokes very visceral, immediate responses. And then another thing about smell and memory is that the brain can store away olfactory memories, basically indefinitely. And particularly if they're related to kind of key moments, especially in our childhood,

but also just in our lives in general, they become very visceral triggers for certain feelings. memories. So as humans, we're very good at associative learning. So if something has the same kind of qualities as something else, then we're quite good at kind of thinking, oh, okay, that has a kind of eggy compound, which I know is associated with gas and therefore I should be concerned by this particular smell. People have quite a strong reaction to the smell of sulfur, for instance, even though the smell of sulfur doesn't really cause us any physical harm, it has components in it that we associate with, you know, the kind of gas itself is odourless, but they will put in a chemical to make us aware of it, that kind of eggy, sulfurous,

horrible smell. Yeah, that kind of gas. Gotcha. Okay, so this is called very simply gas odorization, and it's added to natural gas and propane. So we know. know when something might blow up and kill us. Now, why do we do this? Because when pipelines were filled with these naturally colorless odorless gases, things blew up and killed us. And in one 1937 explosion in Texas, nearly 300 kids and their teachers died. After that, someone said, let's make this stinky so people notice. So what notes you might notice when you leave Bunsen burner unlit and you start to panic are tetrahydro theopene, which links. lends a garlic-like stench, while mercaptains, which are delightful little sulfhydral groups bonded to

a carbon atom, they lend it the classic timeless rotten egg smell. And then rounding out the fragrance profile are additional sulfides that just keep the stench lingering. Now, why the sulfides? Why do those get our attention? Okay, hydrogen sulfide, it's already present in nature in both rotting eggs and the guy next to you on the plane who just cannot hold it in. You know he's trying. And so when we associate that smell with anything else in the world, even if it's not quite the same smell, we know to be suspicious of it. But also slightly related, I think, but I'm on a slight tangent. Smell is the only sense that we can create new, completely new sensory perceptions for. So, like, you can't imagine a new colour, for instance. It's not point.

possible. But for smell, because we've gotten so good at synthetic perfumery, we can create entirely new smells that nobody has ever smelled before, which I think is pretty remarkable. I too think it's cool as hell and it's worth the hyperfocus. I took Latin in high school and the word perfume always delighted me just that it's through smoke, you know, it's meaning being through smoke. Do you find a lot of historical texts that talk about things like, you know, incense and the smells of churches and smoke, do you find that as time goes on, those references change a little bit? Yeah, absolutely. I mean, incense, firstly, was the kind of earliest way in which we produced perfumes, or at least produced fragrances. And incense are these naturally occurring

materials that when burned release their fragrance. It used to be absolutely fundamental to especially practices related to religion. But it was also, you know, since antiquity, used in the households, like personal household altars. It became kind of synonymous with offerings to the gods. Perhaps the most special kind of offering because it offered a kind of proximity to the divine because smell is taken into the body. And so it offers that kind of connection. And in our mammology episode about mummies, we cover how the wealthiest ancient Egyptians just spent a grip of cash to preserve their corpses with this sticky goo of herbs and aromatics. So not only did this goo get them safely to the afterlife, but it also landed their

bodies and bandages in 19th century apothecaries. as vials of powdered mummy became a prized item for people. Just a little dusting of the dead with a botanical earthy bouquet to heal what ails you. Now, a little less divine if I can just back this thing up, so to speak. Oh, I was going to say, you know, you're mentioning sulfur and gas. I don't feel like I've read any passages about farting in any book. Does it come up? I mean, considering how part of the human condition it is,

why don't we read more about that? Well, okay, one answer is that censorship was a thing for a long time. It was too sexy. It was too sexy. You know, if you were to take, for example, James Joyce's Ulysses, which obviously was kind of heavily condemned for being too erotic and obscene. Okay, so this 1920 novel by the Irish author James Joyce, it is a whopper. at 700 pages. It's a dense one, but wanting to buck Irish conservatism at the time, Joyce made

it real juicy, exploring themes of love and sex in the bushes and even wank in it. And it was published in these serialized chapters via one literary magazine in the U.S., which landed the publishers in court. And at one point, a passage involving someone nutting was going to be read in the court, but the judge objected because there were ladies present. And the lawyers were like, the ladies are the publishers of the magazine, and the judge famously said that they probably just didn't understand what they had printed. But yeah, that trial was a big one, and the publishers were found guilty, and they were charged a fine of like a hundred bucks. So why was it so sensual and bodily and threatening to the general public in the eyes of the law?

Partly because of certain scenes that revolved around smell. You know, there's this kind of much quoted scene that became prominent in the trial for Ulysses, the obscenity trial, where Bloom is seated above his own rising smell on the toilet. He's reading newspaper. To be fair, this scene was set in an outhouse, so rising smells like a poltergeist are likely not subtle. But at the time, rising smells never made cameos. And that absolutely shocked people, even though it's a super mundane thing, you know, everybody at some point in their day or week, depending on how much fibre you eat, is sat on the toilet above their own rising smell. But people were like, you cannot possibly put that in literature. I mean, I think we're experiencing more bodily realism in contemporary literature now.

I've certainly read some quite vivid. Yes, yeah, good word, vivid descriptions of bodily processes in literature kind of produced in the last 20 years or so. Any passages you want to shout out, any passages of smell in books that really made to go, holy shit, wow. So there's a book called Wetlands by Charlotte. Roche and it has a great cover which has kind of been emblazoned on my brain. It's like bright pink with an avocado on the front. And the entire story revolves around a woman who is hospitalized

because a cyst near her anus has gotten infected. I don't like that. And she requires surgery to get it fixed. And it becomes very clear how this could have occurred to this woman who does not abide by standard hygiene practices at all. Interesting. And so that I think would have absolutely scandalised Joyce's readership in ways that I don't think they could possibly have imagined at the time. Yeah, it's a good and interesting book, but it definitely tests the boundaries of what can be considered pleasurable reading. If this was gross for you, I get it. You can see our disgustology

episode to learn more about how your brain is protecting you by retching. Now, if you loved it, we do have a colonoscopy how-to episode for you. And we have one on how zoologists analyze freezers full of animal scat. Okay, so we're through most of the gnarliest parts of this episode. Let's get to other aromas. Let's get to good ones. What about pheromones? Do you find that that smell of attraction, I mean, to flip it on the other side, is used in a lot of romance novels or a lot of like very like erotic scenes. Do you find that they use smell to make things more physical? Yes, definitely. Smell is a really, really important part of the romance genre in general. You know, you have characters who have their kind of characteristic smells, often which are

typically masculine or feminine depending on the gender of the character. And yes, I think smell is a way to signal a kind of desire and attraction that is difficult to explain through reason. And I think we're all intrigued by that. I think that's why so many people are interested in the notion of pheromones. And I kind of actually a little bit invested in the existence of pheromones. Now, in general, we have not got any evidence, really, that human pheromones exist and that we are able to detect them. It kind of makes sense that they would exist because they exist in other primates, like other mammals. Yeah.

But we have spent decades and decades and like a lot of scientific resources trying to work out whether pheromones exist in humans and whether we can perceive them. And nobody has come up with any hard and fast evidence that is replicable. Yeah, it's still very much up in the air. Up in the air. Oh, my word. Bless her for that. Also, in terms of human pheromones, according to the textbook neurobiology of chemical communication chapter 19 titled human pheromones do they exist they say like all vertebrates humans excrete or secrete many different chemicals via their urine and anal excrement breath genitalia saliva and skin glands and i just realized i told you guys

that we were through with most of the gross parts but human smells are human smells okay so it continues most proponents of the human pheromone concept assume that skin glands are the source of the active fermonal agents. And all three major skin glands, two sweat and one sebaceous or oil, can produce chemicals that become odorous. So why can't we smell love then? Is this why online dating is just such a crapshoot? And we should just go back to having dances where you only have to twirl around someone for the length of one song to know if you want to see them naked. Well, there's this 2023 paper, the clinical significance of the human vomeronasal organ in the journal of surgical radiologic anatomy confirms that, yes,

there has been a longstanding debate on the presence and the functionality of the vomoron nasal organ, also known, let's just call it a VNO, because it's hard to pronounce, or a Jacobson organ in adult humans. And this paper for sinus surgeons warns that if the VNO is a functional organ in humans, it would be important to preserve the organ during nasal surgery. And there's apparently a little pit in the sinuses that could be like a portal to it. But the paper concludes that the human VNO is probably a vestigial organ with a non-operational sensory function. So it's okay if you accidentally hack it off in an operation. But we do have a great episode with an ethnologist about the current and the ancient role of dogs in human life, as well as an

eco-otorology episode about how dogs are better at detecting ecological samples than machine. means, and in it we discuss the Jacobson organ in dogs, and why when your pup smells or taste something, it might make like a chomping puppet movement with its mouth to shove the air up into their vomero nasal organ. In my home, when our goblin dog Grammy does this, when she tastes something new, we call this doing the thing. She's doing the thing. But back to romance, though. For more on the smell's role in romance, we have a filamentology episode two about kissing with the famed biological anthropologist, Dr. Robin Dunbar, who told me that when you kiss, you're tasting a partner's immune system. And the people you like tend to be people

who have a different set of immune genes to the ones that you have. And that episode delves into hundreds and thousands of years of evolutionary anthropological evidence. But it happened to come out. We released that one a week after the world shut down for COVID, which was just honestly, such cruel fate. But we'll link it in the show notes. I know that they did some like sniff tests of like body odors that are different genetically from you are more attractive. I mean, a good insurance that you don't fall too in love with your cousin, I guess. You know, but have you seen that research where they put dirty t-shirts in jars? Yes, the sweaty t-shirt experiment. Yeah. It's separable from pheromones because pheromones are like a very

specific thing. So one thing about pheromones is that in other animals, they have something called the vomeronasal organ, which allows them to detect pheromones. So pheromones aren't, strictly speaking, smells, but they are kind of chemical compounds that different species will use to communicate messages about their, you know, sexual availability or their emotional state, etc. But they're not technically smells. They're not perceived through the nose per se. They're perceived through this veneronezal organ, which we don't have at all. We do when we're in the womb, but then it stops working practically straight away after birth. Oh, what a bummer. I wanted that. I grew that. Come on. Yeah. They've been robbed of our venerone nasal organs.

all of this is where you get the note you know what it's too early although we have already been talking about anal cysts and farting but this is it's always the way it goes isn't it cover it head to toe and you know do you find that in literature they look to smell to really explore grief a lot do you find that that comes up a lot because I know that if you smell a perfume of someone who's passed away or if you have a shirt of someone who's broken up with you, those smells, they can be so reminiscent. I know that they obviously can convey disgust and attraction and nostalgia, but do you find that grief comes up a lot? Yes, definitely. The text that automatically comes to mind is a novel by J.M. Kertzia, who is the author of Disgrace,

who won the Nobel Prize for Literature. But one of his lesser-known novels is called The Master of Petersburg. And it's a kind of fictionalized account of Dostoevsky's life. And at the beginning of the novel, we see this fictionalized Dostoevsky enter the room of his recently deceased son. And he kind of picks up various things in the room to smell them. He like, he smells his pillow. He even smells the armpit seam in one of his son's suits. And, kind of philosophizes on how his kind of ghost is entering him and is perhaps gaining life again through that experience of kind of being revived through smell. Oh, that's such a beautiful passage. It is, but also the book itself is really, really horrible. It's all about

corruption and that particular scene gets very perverse very quickly. Does it? But it starts off, It starts off nice. Do you ever have people who ask for copies of your PhD? Can you go buy it? This is a crazy subject. Is that a big yes? I feel so bad about this because there is someone at the University of Cambridge who now spends a portion of every single one of their working days, pressing a button on their computer to send me requests of my thesis. And I have apologized to them multiple times.

I'm really sorry, Tony. I could never have anticipated this. How many people have requested it? Do you have any idea? Well over 3,000. What? But in a victory for Tony. I can't actually send anyone my thesis. I feel like I should say this because I know that people will probably send me an email and say,

can I have a copy of your thesis? I can't because it's under embargo. Okay. Because I'm turning it into, well, two books actually. I mean, I'm turning the thesis into an academic literary monograph, and I'm also writing a trade book about smell. Amazing. This is, you know, an unprecedented situation,

but because there are so many people interested in the work, it actually makes a lot of sense, and the advice that I've received is to keep it under wraps for now. Good. Okay. I love that. So let's get into the absolutely boggling twists of destiny that led Allie to be talking to me in between writing two different books about the nichest of subjects. My God.

So what exactly happened? Sure. Yeah. Okay. So I had just finished a very long day of teaching. And on my lunch break, I had taken this picture of myself with my hardbound copy of my thesis, ready to deposit in the university library, because that's the kind of final hurdle that you have to get through for your PhD to be done.

done, basically. I had picked up my two copies of my thesis. I'd put one in the university library and I'd got my personal copy and I took a photo with it and I put it on Twitter, well, X, formerly Twitter. I kind of think of them as slightly separate things now because the version of Twitter that I was used to to talk to people in my field whilst we were all in lockdown just no longer exists. It's a very different platform now than it was back there. So this was a tweet she posted in late November 24 with the caption, thrilled to say, I passed my Viva with no corrections and am officially pH done. And in the tweets photo, she's like happily cradling a yearbook sized volume. It's hardbound in this deep crimson color with foiled

gold lettering. And it reads olfactory ethics, the politics of smell in modern and contemporary prose. It's cool. So basically, I put it on there because I was used. to using it to talk to my not very many at all followers who are basically all academics and I thought I should let them know that I'm done in case they're working on any projects that need a postdoc and then they'll think of me. Hey, are you guys hiring? And then it kind of broke containment immediately. I guess for the first 24 hours actually, maybe even best part of 48 hours. It was like skyrocketing. in terms of the engagement. But the people who are commenting were really friendly. They were just

congratulating me on my accomplishment, which was very nice. And I really appreciated it, even though it was slightly discomforting to have that many people seeing my face. So people just said, whoa, that's fascinating. Who knew? Congrats on that. And then. And then it got retweeted by a couple of kind of big right-wing accounts who were, I suppose, not necessarily criticizing it, more kind of mocking it or mocking me or the institution at large. And then it got nasty for a little while. It kind of was bouncing around a side of the platform

that I had never encountered before. And the comments were unhinged. And a lot of them gained quite a lot of traction. You know, they became the kind of most liked ones because it was kind of blue-tick people interacting with each other because they get money from that. Yeah. Within a week, this post had nearly 120 million views. In the grab bag of responses were a lot of male avatar photos clearly triggered saying things such as, what a stupid fucking thing to study. and you have made no valuable contributions in your thesis, and perhaps your entire life.

Another said, instead of a baby, you spent three years producing junk, three years becoming less intelligent. What a wasted life. Another claimed, you should be deported to Haiti. I don't know why they wrote that, because she doesn't live in the U.S., but Allie also relayed to one media outlet, quote, I did receive one rape threat in my personal inbox, which I felt really significantly crossed the line because my email was not readily available on the internet. So that person had to go to some trouble to find it just in case you wanted a peek into what it's like being a non-male gender on the internet. You probably already knew. And then people started defending me and it was like some kind of strange culture war going on with me at the center baffled. Thinking actually that a lot of

it was very, very funny. Apart from the, like, crazy threats to my life, etc., a lot of the comments were very, very funny because they were so far-fetched. They were like worlds away from reality, which was quite entertaining for me, if a bit stressful. And do you feel like this is part of a wave, and maybe this is mostly American, of just anti-intellectualism, anti-so-called like elitism. I mean, did you find that that was part of the center of that culture war? Was a lot of Americans, too? Yeah, mostly Americans. It was a lot of Americans who thought that I was American. Oh, my God. I think they thought maybe I was from Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Or some people out there in our nation don't have maps. They just didn't really think very hard at all. There were a lot of comments about, you know, using federal funds, but I'm, I'm British. Oh my God. So that's not, that's not a problem for you guys. Don't worry about it. Yeah, it definitely kind of struck a chord with that particular, particular kind of anti-intellectual slash kind of just straightforwardly

misogynistic group of people. There was a lot of just like, women should be in the kitchen. Oh, my God. As if we're back in, you know, well, 1950. She quickly gained 238,000 followers and interest from literary agents all over the world. And one scholar of literary studies, Dr. Mushhtak-Belal, proclaimed that Dr. Ali Luke's PhD thesis is set to become one of the most influential theses of the 21st century. And the funny thing is, is like, boo-ya, you have like a book deal. Like more people interested in this work than ever this.

so many people didn't realize that this work even existed. I had so many people being like, get her on ologies, get her on ologies. And I'm like, she is busy right now. And our listeners were very stoked that you're coming on. And I have questions from them. Can I ask? Absolutely. Yes, I would love to answer questions. But before that strikes, let's take a quick break and donate to a cause of Dr. Luke's selection, which this week is the UN crisis relief, specifically the Occupied Palestinian Territory Humanitarian Fund, which is managed locally under UN leadership and immediately available to a wide range of partner organizations at the front lines of response. And this way funding reaches the people most in need when they need it. And for more

on the conflict and Gaza and the humanitarian crisis we're all seeing unfold, you can listen to my 2024 chat with Dr. Dirk Moses, who's a leading global expert on genocide. That episode is titled Genocidology, and in it we talk about crimes of atrocity, and yes, the nature of genocide. So that donation went to UN crisis relief, specifically for the occupied Palestinian Territory Humanitarian Fund. And on a side note, several separate ologist donations were made this week directly to families in need who are suffering aid blockades and starvation in Gaza. Again, highly recommend the Genocideology episode. Okay, let's get back to smelling stuff and let's take in the essence of your questions. Amy Ford, Rosa and Robin Cohen asked about vocabulary. Amy asked, could you speak on the

emotional baggage of the word smell versus scent versus odor versus stink? They each have different meanings that I'm interested that you used smell for your thesis instead of scent. Yes. Okay. So the word that I use most often in the thesis is olfactory because I think that it is probably the most value neutral. I think it's definitely the most value neutral, actually, of all of the smell terms. I think smell is supposed to be value neutral, but actually in practice has negative connotations. Yeah, I can understand that. If someone says, what's that smell? Yes, yeah.

Like, the chances are they're probably talking about something negative. Smell you later. Right. And in general, in the English language anyway, we have this very bifurcated olfactory lexicon, like the words that we used to describe smell fit into two categories, the kind of foul and the fragrant. That's Alan Corbin's kind of way of thinking about it. So this is Professor of History, Alain Corbin's classic 1986 work, The Foul and the Fragrant, Odour and the French Social Imagination, which explores personal sense in the 17 and 1800s. And I can only imagine what a

richly aromatic time it was in France. As the first words read, today's history comes deodorized. And it's, of course, not just history. It's also the present. Just a few months ago, French and a British tennis star faced off in a match with the Brit, who was behind in the match, requesting an intervention from the umpire saying, on camera, can you tell her to wear deodorant? She's smelling really bad. Now, that player, Team Britain, lost the match anyway and then had to issue a retraction and an apology on social media for the insensitive. toward the Lairduteni. In general, the words that we have to talk about negative smells are pretty over-provided, I would

say. Like, we have a lot of finely differentiated words for negative smells, and not very many, really, for positive ones. So I consulted a thesaurus, and sure enough, unpleasant odors can be noxious, putrid, revolting, malodorous, rank, smelly, rotten, stenchy, stinking, stinky, and reeking. But it's not often you smell something that you would describe as ambrosial or redolent. This is why Dr. Luke's who wrote a PhD and now two books about it is a pro. It's kind of become a little language game that I'm very familiar with and I'm good at playing.

And a few people, Fran, Izzy B, and Aaron White wanted to know about food. And Fran said, why do so many white Americans, especially claim to hate the smell of garlic or garlic breath? They've never noticed anyone with bad garlic breath and garlic is delicious. However, coffee breath is terrible. And Izzy V wanted to know, I'm curious about if there's connections between the smells of cultural cuisines, mentioned Indian or Mexican cuisine, for example, or diet culture and racism, classism, other prejudices. So, yeah, the different smells of different types of cuisine and how that gets mentioned. Oh, gosh, there's so much interesting stuff there. So I've actually read, not recently, but read quite a lot of academic work on the smell of garlic and the kind of particular socio-political and historical situations in which people being averse to the smell of garlic arises and how it relates to not always necessarily racism, but certainly xenophobia.

So against, for example, Italians, I think is maybe the most obvious. but also the Jewish community, where garlic and onions were used in their kind of traditional cooking. Okay, so I'm mostly Italian, like 75%. So I honestly did not know that the waft of simmering onions or garlic could possibly be perceived poorly. Like, what else does food taste like? I do like it. I like it very much. I think, did we add salt and pepper?

I think we needed salt and pepper. No, there's no salt and pepper in it. And there's this 2016 paper out of the history department of King's College, London, titled Greece and Sweat, Race and Smell in 18th century English culture. And it notes that at the heart of bristling at a so-called difference in odor was essentially the fear of otherness. And given our two-part vampirology episode about Eastern European folklore and garlic as a repellent for the undead, there were likely deep fears and associations made with certain food smells.

And the paper mentions that under oppression, any group associated with poverty is associated with contamination. It brought up this enormous discourse about the smell of garlic and it became this kind of foundational derogatory feature of that group and became a bit of a trope, basically. So that's that. Coffee breath reminded me of this novel called Come Join Our Disease by Sam Byers, who, writes so wonderfully about the smells associated with the commute, kind of the work commute, and the like long incubated farts and like dehydrated spit. And like it's incredibly like just so precise the way he's able to evoke these particular smells. And I think, you know, stale coffee breath is one of those things that he locates as well as a kind of pervasive feature of the London commute, especially.

We have a whole episode about coffee, and yes, we delve into coffee breath in it. And it turns out it's not so much the coffee itself, but it's the things that you are splashing into the coffee, like creamers and milks and sugars. And by you, I mean me. And by splashing, I mean pouring liberally. And those are what make your mouth a mid-morning stink bog. But that whole episode is stellar. We're going to link it in the show notes for you.

Now, what about lunch, though? And then the other question was about kind of racism and ethnic cuisines. We actually talk about this a fair amount, I think, in public discourse, the kind of the idea that people will go to school or to their workplace and they'll bring with them a lunch that is specific to their culture, you know, the food that they grew up eating, which is really comforting to them. and other people will kind of turn their nose up and make them feel bad about eating it. And we've seen actually like bans on this kind of thing in public libraries, you know, where you'll say like don't bring in smelly foods. And sometimes they'll specify what kind of smelly foods they mean. And they'll say things like, you know, samosas.

And you think, well, you know, fish and chips are really smelly as well. But you're not isolating that as a thing that you're not allowed to bring into this public. space. So that clearly has some kind of racial component to it. I think we should take it seriously, actually. It's worth having those conversations, I think. Okay, so remember her controversial, viral tweet. One of the top replies read, when I was in elementary school, the kids used to make fun of us brown kids by saying, you all smell like curry. And many of us hated it when our parents would send us Indian food for lunch because of that. So what this academic is studying, the tweet said about Allie, is a real thing and should not be ridiculed by the uneducated masses of Twitter.

And that tweet was left by Dr. Khalil Andani, who is a Harvard professor of religion. Also, for those of South Asian descent, you may be in possession of the ABCC-1-1 gene, which means that you have fewer active apricorine sweat glands in your pits and in your groin, which means that stink-making bacteria are not thriving in there, which means you have won the B-O lottery. Now, for the rest of us, and I'll talk to my people, the stinky whites, I consulted many message boards. And apparently, our sit-down air, especially Americans, are widely agreed to smell like wet dogs or old milk or cold hot dogs or dirty pennies. Now, part of that might be diet-related.

And as a person who lives within walking distance of three hot dog and four hamburger shops, I can vouch for a cultural predisposition. it's interesting how smell instantly jumps to association and it can be revealing of what people's association is and then once they've experienced it, their last association is like, oh, that was pretty good, you know? Spectacular. Give me 14 of them right now. Really? Do you know what's in here? I don't care. Don't tell me.

So much of that is just tied to ignorance or lack of exposure or xenophobia. And going back in the past a little bit, he mentions commutes, which made me want to ask this, But Melissa Hall asked, did everyone in the past smell like cigarettes all the time? I say, I love old Hollywood movies and everyone is always smoking inside in fancy places. And Melissa says, I'm a smoker and I feel like now cigarette smoke is associated with the lower classes. And I'm super careful not to smell like my beloved cancer sticks.

But what about the 50s? And Abigail Riggle also says, is there a scientific explanation behind why fresh and stale smoke smells so different? Has there been a change in how cigarette smoke has been portrayed in literature as kind of a tell for someone's class or habits? Oh, that's okay. A, I wasn't alive then. So I can't tell you from experience, but I can say that it's fairly safe to assume that probably, yes, it was more common for people to smell like smoke. But we also very easily habituate to smells that we're around a lot. It doesn't take very long at all, really only about 30 seconds for us to habituate to a smell.

Like even the worst kind of smells, you know, like a pig stye or whatever. As long as the smell isn't shifting and changing or coming and going, we just stop noticing a smell, basically. So if you're in a room where people are smoking, you will pretty much just get used to it after not very long. My colleague Will Tullet has done some really interesting work on cafes and salons and smoking and has traced when smoking became a kind of more communal experience, why the fact that gender's mixing in these public spaces meant that smoking became less popular because women who weren't used to the smell would complain about it. There's a great deal of work on stigmatisation and smoking as it relates to smell and how people who smoke are very often

represented as being foul, smelling and disgusting, and they have decaying teeth and yellow fingers and that kind of thing. And then it certainly does, in some ways, lead to a kind of moral stigmatisation of something that is, in most cases, not moral. There is a kind of argument to be made for it affecting other people, because it's a kind of a behaviour that's associated with poor health. As we were saying before, smell is deeply, deeply emotionally associative. And so if you have positive emotional associations with smoking, which you very well might, if you had, say, a grandparent that smoked or a parent that smoked, then it can be a very comforting thing to smell. I was thinking about the parent trap, both the book and the

film at the end where I think it's Hallie, like, hugs her grandfather and says that she's making a memory. Yes, I remember that. Every time I think about my grandfather. And how are you? I always smelled of tobacco and peppermint. Smell of tobacco and peppermint. Well, I'll tell you, I use the peppermint for my indigestion and the tobacco to make your grandmother mad. I'll remember that he smelled like pipe tobacco and peppermint. I think there's a distinction between tobacco and cigarettes.

And then there's also, of course, online this kind of big discussion always being had about the difference between cigarette smoke and weed smoke. Yeah, it's interesting because I live in California where cannabis has been legal for a while now, essentially, and it more recently has become legal in New York. And so when I'm walking around in New York, the first couple times I went to New York, when it was legal, I thought, I smells like home right now. Like, it smells like California right now. And then I was like, oh, that's just weed. And now I've become habituated to it. You know, I smell it in New York and it doesn't raise any flags of like, oh, just because you're in some parts of the country, you're used to people smoking it wherever.

But it's, yeah, it's funny that I would get homesick. If you're like, I wish there was a book that mentioned the smell of drugs, head on over to, say, Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which sprinkles in a little hash smoke and the smell of huffing ether through a drenched Kleenex and then stumbling through Circus Circus. Or get a hit of Inherent Weiss by Thomas Pynchon, which contains gorgeously thick prose like, At the moment, she was lying in an unlit room of uncertain size, which smelled of pot smoke and patchouly oil. And they moseyed south down the alleys of Gordita Beach in the slow seep of dawn

and the wintertime smell of crude oil and salt water. Also, there's a description in Inherent Vice that is so striking, it just might as well be a teleportation device. made of words. And it reads, there were black light sweets with fluorescent rock and roll posters and mirrored ceilings and vibrating waterbeds. Strobe lights blinked, incense cones, sent

ribbons of musk-scented smoke ceiling word, and carpeting of artificial angora shag in various tones, including oxblood and teal, not always limited to floor surfaces, beckoned alluringly. I feel like you know exactly what that motel room smells like

as soon as you turn the key, which brings us back to patron Abigail Riggle's question. Is there a scientific explanation behind why fresh and stale smoke smell so different? And the answer is yes. Science calls this third-hand smoke, and it's made of the mix of nicotine, formaldehyde and naphthalene that settles on services into fibers and builds up over time. So the Mayo Clinic cautions that you can't get rid of third-hand smoke with more airflow. So fans, open windows, not going to help you.

And it's hard to clean off third-hand smoke with typical household clean. So please science tell us how. While a 2020 paper titled Remediating third-hand smoke pollution in multi-unit housing, temporary reductions and the challenges of persistent reservoirs said that using a combination of dry and wet methods is most effective. So dry cleaning involved simple green all-purpose cleaner, followed by some distilled white vinegar, left on surfaces for a few minutes, but then wet cleaning was a bigger job with like professional steam cleaning. teams and enzymatic preparations, attention paid to pH and all that. So this is why the fine print says that if you smoke in your rental Kia, they can hunt you down, they can hit you in the face, and they can take your wallet. And hotels, don't even think about it unless you're a newly divorced guy whose wife found your WhatsApp and you're forced to stay at a weekly rate hotel for a while. Thirdhand smoke is your new girlfriend. Last listener, or almost last listener question. Goal Next Door, first-time question-asker, Manna, and Scott Hanley wanted to know a

little bit more about perfumes. Gull Nextdoor said this is fascinatingly exciting and hadn't heard about this before, but they're so curious. And Manna says, oh, my God, this is heaven for a scent nerd. I'd love for Dr. Luke's to dive into her opinion on the way people interact with perfumes and overconsumption. And on that note, we had a couple teachers. Thoraposaurus Jess said as a high school teacher. I am subjected to many smells on a regular basis. They see firsthand how much scent is deeply important to students, like a 45-second continuous stream of X body spray or 57 consecutive scourts of vanilla bubblegum, lilac, princess peach perfume and bed, bath, and bodywork stuff. Yeah, so perfume, like, when did that become such a part of our identity?

Well, I mean, affordable perfumes are still a relatively recent invention, not so much as an invention, but I suppose a commodity that is actually available to the kind of average consumer. Now, I could be wrong about this, but the 1980s were really the time when a lot of kind of ordinary middle class people decided to be wrong about this, but the 1980s were really the time when a lot of kind of ordinary middle class people decided to, buy fragrances to use. So obviously women have always worked. They've always performed labor in various ways. But the 1980s saw women going into professions and jobs that they hadn't been able to before. And there were certain perfumes that were very much kind of marketed towards those particular groups, these kind of new professional women, at relatively affordable prices. So with the rise of synthetic ingredients. The Normies had more access to smelling like flowers by the late 1800s. But perfume really started to permeate the air of the late 1970s and the early 80s, explains this essay, fragrance as class performance, scent signifiers across socioeconomic boundaries. And in 1973,

cosmetic companies like Revlon dared to show sassy working women, wearing pants, smelling hot, and controlling their own destinies. thinking of like Reeve Ghosh and Charlie and they kind of became almost synonymous with that new style of femininity which was like, take me seriously, but also I still want to smell like a woman. There's only one fragrance to wear when you're living in a fast lane and that's Charlie. And so you got those kind of fragrances were pretty overpowering in general. They're still pretty much on the market, but they've all been reformulated since their initial conception. But if you smell kind of the original decants, they're quite strong. As with everything,

you know, in fashion, music, smells and our smell preferences change over time. And so we now don't have quite so many floral notes in the average perfume than we would back then. We're now kind in the era of the gourmand in general? By gourmand perfumes, I thought she just meant fancy, but it apparently means like edible smelling, like chocolate or honey or caramel-y scents. A lot of sugar vibes, even some coffee notes, and fruit. Now, Tom Ford makes a lost cherry fragrance

with notes of almond and tonka bean, and yes, black cherry. It sells for over $200 a bottle, and those in the know report that it happens to smell exactly like embalming fluid. Okay. Scott Hanley asked, top fragrances, fetch high prices and are not available to lower income noses,

like think creed, et cetera. If that isn't a cultural disparity, I don't know one. But do you find that certain perfumes are described in novels to note, like, this person has a lot of money and is old money, and maybe this person not so much? I know that that quote, too, with Marilyn Monroe, like, what do I sleep in? What do you wear the bed?

You wear pajama tops, the bottoms of the pajamas are a nightgown. So I say Chanel number five. Because it's a truth. And yet I don't want to say nude, but it's a truth. Chanel number five. Yes, absolutely. Yeah. But yeah, do you ever find that types of perfumes are like, oh, this person is rich

or like this person's new rich or something? Yeah. The thing that is interesting is. I think about fiction is that it's quite rare to come across references to specific fragrances. But there are examples. I mean, Tony Morrison in her novel Tar Baby references Chloe, like the brand Chloe and that very, very famous original perfume. So Tony Morrison won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1993. And Tar Baby is her 1981 novel about a black fashion model named Jdeen who lives in a house with a wealthy white family and they go to the Caribbean and she falls in love with someone named Son, a black man who is on the

run after a murder. So the novel follows how they balance their identities apart and together amid their surroundings. And in an interview, Morrison said of its title Tar Baby that it's also a name that white people call black children, black girls, as I recall, she says. And at one time, A tar pit was a holy place, at least an important place, because tar was used to build things. She says, it held together things like Moses's little boat and the pyramids. For me, she says, the tar baby came to mean the black woman who can hold things together. Now, Allie mentioned that there's a reference in this book to the fragrance Chloe, and I found the passage, which reads, usually when Margaret, the white daughter, overslept, Jade woke her up with a smile, some funny piece of mail or an exciting advertisement.

and they would begin the day with some high-spirited girlish nonsense. Look, Chloe has four new perfumes, four. So Chloe, it's this classic high-end luxury perfume by Lagerfeld, and it came on the market in 1975. So right before the book came out, it's in a short, ribbed square bottle with this crisp ballet pink bow at the nozzle, and it smells rosy and floral. So that tracks for the characters. But the only other mention of Chloe in Tarbaby is the very first page, which is a biblical quote from Corinthians 111, which reads, for it hath been declared unto me of you, my brethren, by them, which are of the house of Chloe, that there are contentions among you. And this is just a postnote on this aside from a few

days after the episode went up. I thought I really ate with this aside, but what I completely forgot is that Tony Morrison's given name was Chloe. But some of her classmates had trouble pronouncing it. So she changed it to Tony because Anthony was her baptized Catholic name. So a couple Chloe Easter eggs in there. So be fitting. Also, Ali absolutely already knew this and mentioned that this is included in her dissertation, which we're going to have to wait until her book comes out to get the details and her thoughts on that. But yeah, Chloe, great little perfume Easter egg, Tony. What I would say about perfume and exclusivity and classism is that, Obviously, these kind of luxury brands are making you pay much more than you need to.

But there are alternatives. There are affordable alternatives. And there are so many more brands who are doing things affordably now. You know, you can buy a sample for like one or two pounds. And it will last you a week's worth of wear. And I think that's special. Oh, that's actually a good note. Last listener question is Megan Rieser wanted to know, they said this is so exciting. I'm wondering right off the bat what your favorite smells are.

I wanted to know if you've had any sense that you previously hated, but you changed your mind about once you learned more about it and learned more context. Do you have something that through your work, you suddenly smell lilac differently or suddenly smell Jasmine differently? That's so interesting. Okay. Were you going to say something else? I was just going to buy you some time, but I was going to say there's a David Lynch recently passed away and he's buried in Hollywood Forever Cemetery and he was such a champion for L.A. and filmmaking. And the only thing on his tombstone, his epitaph, just says night blooming Jasmine. And that's it. And it's so interesting because it makes me want to tear up just saying

that there's certain times of the year that the night blooming Jasmine and it happens this time a year is so, it's so pervasive in the city and it's so nostalgic. And it's such a fingerprint of L.A. if you've walked around the hills or if you've walked around parks at night. And I just thought it was so interesting that his last words were just night blooming Jasmine because it says everything in three words about L.A. and about nighttime in L.A. Anyway. Oh, that's so special. I'm so glad that you shared that. And it's, I will get around to answering the question. But it reminded me of this extremely recent experience that I had where one of my students submitted to me without letting me know that they were working on this, which made it even more wonderful, an essay about

a short story by Julian Barnes called Pulse, which is about a man who loses his sense of smell at the same time that his wife is diagnosed with motor neuron disease. And so the story is kind of trying to think through these very, very different kinds of disability. And towards the end of the story, there's this really, really special scene where his wife is kind of lying in a hospital bed and she can't really move anymore and she can't really use many of her senses, but her sense of smell is still working. And so is her hearing. And so he kind of talks about walks that they've been on and crushes herbs between his fingers so that she can imagine. He doesn't even really know if she's still kind of cognizant of this, but he does it anyway because he knows that

it will be a way of kind of connecting her to better times. Oh, that's so beautiful. And I just thought it was an amazing story. And I hadn't come across it before, despite the fact that I work on smell this order. So it was a really kind of remarkable thing that my student had just kind of submitted this essay offhand. I was like, here you go. But yeah, okay. So favorite smells. My two favorite smells are vanilla and fresh garden sage. Not the kind that you like, you know, like the dried stuff that you burn to like get rid of spirits. But like the kind of herb that you would use with like potatoes. We have a big sage bush in our garden and every time I go out there, I pick a leaf and I just walk around with it because I think it's like one of the best

smells ever. I have come to think about smell very differently and I've come to think about my kind of responsibility for how I react to smells very differently. So as a kind of young person, before I lost my sense of smell to COVID for 18 months. Oh my God, what? Yeah. No. Oh my God. I will explain this whole. Yeah. Okay. It's. It wasn't my villain origin story because I was already working on smell when it happened, which made it, you know, all the more ironic. Oh, my God. But as a young person, I was very perturbed by smells.

I think I had quite a sensitive sense of smell and would often kind of be affected by smells that other people either couldn't smell or just were in kind of such small quantities that it didn't bother them. I felt very kind of overwhelmed by smell very often. So sitting on the bus next to a smelly person, you know, wearing like a, a coat that had been out in the rain and then dried, that would make me feel a bit like, ooh, I need to get out of here. And I do think that doing my work has made me think quite seriously about those situations and how I interact with people who might smell different or strongly. But my relationship with most smells has changed since losing my sense of smell

because I kind of experienced the whole panoply of smell disorders on my road to recovery. And it's still not quite there. I think it's probably about 75% of what it used to be, which in some ways is quite helpful because it's less annoying. I was going to say, yeah, like you'd had it dialed up to like 150. Like maybe it's just at 100 now. Maybe you're just on the level with everyone else. But did your sense of smell gradually come back? Yeah.

So it was gone. Like gone completely 100% couldn't smell a thing for 18 months. And then it very, very slowly, like so incrementally that it was practically impossible to know that I was recovering. Yeah, it has slowly come back. But a lot of things smell different to how they used to. So Allie points to her desk, which has little bottles of perfume and other smell samples. And she told me that she's still having to retrain her nose and identify certain notes. And this is the most literary thing I can imagine happening to her.

Like, how is she not in a corset with the local stable boy, taking her around a flower garden in spring to teach her the smell of daffodils to rehabilitate her nose? I used to be really good at it. I used to be able to smell something and know what was in there. And now everything smells different. It's like having a kind of hard reset. Wow. You have to kind of work.

I suppose, I mean, this is maybe a terrible comparison, but it's kind of like learning to walk again, you know, like everything is different. You're having to build up your understanding from the ground up. Yeah. And it's so elemental to your field too. That is so specific. Is that I was going to ask what one of the worst things about your work was. I imagine having to retrain your nose as someone who writes about a whole factory. Yeah, like what's one of the hardest thing. I mean, actually genuinely think that maybe the hardest part of my work, because I love what I do. I really genuinely can say that I love what I do. The hardest thing is returning to books that are really great examples of olfactory texts in that, you know, smell is very fundamental to them

and it's operating in a way that is, you know, necessary for the functioning of the plot or for characterization or style or whatever but the books themselves are just absolutely hideous just like poorly written i mean that they include representations of just like really horrific things you know like Lolita is is one thing that's a very it's a special text in the sense that it really the kind of linguistic glossing effect that goes on means that a lot of the horror is very subdued, but some texts will just throw the horror at you and ask you to deal with it. But during the PhD, I did not very often get to work on positive smells of any description or like family-friendly, fun, nice books. It was always people

doing horrible things to each other in the realm of fiction. That's got to be not easy to to shake off. Do you have to then go to like a comfort read right after that, just go crack into whatever comfort read you've got? Exactly. Yeah, I really do. And I really try to resist any kind of snobbery about fiction. Like I will happily read young adult fiction. When I was finalizing the edits on my thesis, I listened to all of the audiobooks for a series of unfortunate events, which is a series that I loved when I was a kid again. And it actually really rewards a reread. because it's very intensely literary. There are lots and lots of references

to canonical literature in those books. So I really enjoyed that. It was a way of completely shutting my brain off at nighttime. What about you mentioned you love what you do? What's your favorite thing about the job about being in this field? I love feeling like I really genuinely have a sense of purpose that I know that whatever I choose to do

is contributing new. knowledge. I think that's the really special thing that I love about smell studies is that because it really hasn't been going for very long, you know, it kind of emerged in the 1980s. There's so much work to do and it all feels very invigorating and necessary. And I love feeling like I'm making a contribution in some way. It's interesting to think of how many people who are now familiar with your work might incorporate smell differently in their own writing, whether it's screenwriting or poetry or prose. I think it's incredibly special, actually, that people choose to send me messages all the time on social media about how they have come to think about some aspect of

their olfactory life differently. And I love hearing from people. I think almost everyone has a sense of smell. Sorry to my friend Micah. Who does not? And I love hearing about them. I love it when people share. It's again, it's stories. I'm just, I'm addicted to stories. I always have been and I love when people tell me any kind of story. So ask literary people, literally the stupidest questions, because what is life without stories? Thank you so, so much to Dr. Ellie Lukes for the chat. And you can follow her on Instagram at Dr. Ali Lukes and Ali Lukes on Blue Sky. You can stay tuned for her two upcoming books, which I will be celebrating. I'm going to climbed to the top of a hill and just scream, yeah. Now, a donation, again, was made to the

UN Crisis Relief, specifically the occupied Palestinian Territory Humanitarian Fund. Again, highly encourage to listen to our very unfunny episode on genocide with Dr. Dirk Moses. More links to studies will be up at alleywar.com slash literary olfactology. You can find a whole catalog of our 400-plus episodes just by going to ologies.com. Ologies merch is available at Ologiesmerch.com. You can join Patreon at patreon.com slash ologies to support the show and leave questions for the ologists before we record. Aaron Talbert, Adminciology's podcast Facebook group. Aveline Malik makes our professional transcripts. Kelly R. Dwyer does the website.

The long-lasting Nuel Dilworth is our scheduling producer. Happy birthday to my sister saucer today, who I adore. Get well to our editor, Jake Chafy, who's out with a minor plague. Susan Hale is Chanel number one, who managing directs his whole situation. Lead editor is the crisp and elegant Mercedes Maitland. of Maitland Audio and robustly musky, Jared Sleeper of Mindsham Media and also my marriage stepped into co-edit this episode as we have ordered Jake back to bed. Nick Thorburn made the theme music and if you stick around to the end of the episode,

I burden you with a secret from my life. And this one is courtesy 2009 me when I had a date with this crush who wanted to cook me dinner and he asked me if I was like allergic to any foods or if I didn't like anything. And I told him I didn't really like garlic or onions. And this was a lie, but I did hope to make out with him, which is why I said I didn't like him. But he didn't know that. And he didn't know how to make a meal like flavorful in their absence. So he very sweetly chopped up like a bunch of parsley and rosemary and herbs, which was a nightmare the entire time. I just kept thinking I had green things in all my teeth. And I was like, this is my fault. I brought this on myself. Anyway, he was very kind, wonderful dude. In the end, we were not each other's people. And now me, your internet uncle, is married to your pod mother, Jared, and he can smell like anything. And I would not mind. I hope that's reciprocal. Okay, go stick your face in a rose, go waltz maybe through the perfume department at a fancy store. Don't buy anything. You

smell things. Put a little vanilla extract on your wrists. That's free. It smells great. Maybe saute taste some onions for me. Oh, treat yourself to a chapter or two in one of those books on your nightstand. I will do the same. Okay. Bye-bye. Thank you.