The descriptions of smells in books is something that always sticks out to me. In Don Quixote, for example, it’s the chivalric scent of ambergris; in One Hundred Years of Solitude, the smell of Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s lavender-perfumed moustache lingers on the page. At the university library, I would often be blanketed by the warm, woody aroma of oud whenever a Muslim student walked past my desk. Smelling good makes you identifiable, it helps you feel confident, and it pleases everyone around you
