Every time I walk through a mall and catch a whiff of Davidoff Cool Water, I am instantly taken back to my first boyfriend in school. We only dated for two weeks, so he is not someone that really matters to me, but it was the first time I noticed what a boy’s cologne smelled like. So even now, I can’t help but turn around and wonder if it was him who just walked past.

The other day I was in IKEA, and I found a candle with a scent so specific that it unlocked a memory I did not even know I still had. When I was little, I would sometimes sleep in my mum’s bed after watching a show together. She loved self care and would always moisturize before sleeping. That candle smelled exactly like someone who had just brushed their teeth and applied expensive night cream from L’Occitane. Just like that, I was back in those quiet, comforting nights of my childhood.

Then I saw a meme that made me laugh. It said, When I am at a perfume shop and see Dior Sauvage, I smell it again just to remember what toxic felt like. It is crazy how scent can pull you back into a moment, almost like a time machine. The other day, my friend told me she hates when I wear Miss Dior. Not because of the perfume itself, but because it reminds her of university when I wore it to class every day. For her, that perfume is tangled up in the memory of a difficult breakup.

With all these moments tied to scent, I wonder, what if instead of using our phones to capture and record memories, we could bottle scents instead? When Halston launched his perfume in 1975, it became a sensation, earning $85 million in sales within two years. The Netflix movie about him tells a fascinating story about how he chose his fragrance notes: tobacco for his love of life and partying, orchids for beauty and excess, and a jockstrap to represent a part of himself that was hidden from the public.