Fragrance and Memory: Rediscovering Odesa Through Scent

Read this article in Ukrainian: Аромат і пам’ять: Відкриваючи Одесу заново крізь запахи

Writing about Odesa today reminded me how memory itself can feel like fragrance—vivid, intangible, essential. I sit at my work table in Brussels, in the dining room, surrounded by familiar comforts. A bouquet of white freesias, casually picked up at the supermarket, fills the air with its violet sweetness. On my right, I’ve arranged a haft seen—a small altar celebrating the Persian New Year, a symbol of rebirth and renewal. Outside, even though I cannot see it from here, I know the tall magnolia tree in the garden is bursting into bloom, its petals opening softly, without hesitation.

Here in Brussels, there are no air raid sirens piercing the night, no unsettling hum of Shahed drones slicing through the quiet. In these moments, I feel deeply conflicted and yet comforted. Part of me wishes desperately to be there—in Ukraine, experiencing the intensity, the solidarity, and the rawness of life in Odesa. Another part feels profound relief to be here, safe yet yearning. I am suspended between two places, two emotional landscapes.

Memory offers a bridge. It lets me travel effortlessly, invisibly. In memory, I revisit streets filled with laughter and chaos, sea air tinged with salt and flowering acacias, the comforting dusty vanilla of old paper in vintage bookstores. I remember the way Odesa’s salty breeze tangled softly in my hair, how at night my skin carried traces of the city—sea spray, blossoms, sunlight—and how these scents whispered of moments lived fully, intensely.

Neuroscience tells us the limbic system processes memories, emotions, and aromas—all intertwined, inseparable. Perhaps that explains why, when words fall short, I instinctively turn to fragrance to express my longing, my contradictions.

I search for perfumes that capture these elusive sensations—perfumes capable of bringing Odesa back to me, with all its complexity. Something salty, subtly floral, gently warm yet edged with melancholy. As I inhale deeply, fragrance becomes more than scent: it transforms into living memory, reconnecting me to places and people I hold dear. Fragrance, like memory, becomes a necessity—not a mere luxury, but an anchor holding my emotional world together, wherever I find myself.

The perfumes that I envision seem, at first glance, unrelated to Ukraine. Guerlain’s Chamade, created in 1969 by Jean-Paul Guerlain—a French aesthete, horse lover, and poet of scent—is the most vividly transparent composition of rose and hyacinth. In its airy layers, I find the sea foam on the beaches of Odesa, and the first spring blooms spilling over garden fences in the city’s leafy streets.

Voyage d’Hermès evokes salt and stones, a walk down Deribasovska street, a reminder that Odesa was built by voyagers and adventure seekers: Italians, Greeks, French. Duke de Richelieu’s monument, the beloved founder of Odesa, now hidden away for protection against Russian attacks, still makes its presence felt. Like the perfume itself—subtle yet assertive, declaring: I have traveled, I have seen, I carry the scent of old stones and bitter herbs.

Painter Genyum, perhaps, most literally evokes Odesa for me. This spicy, woody blend, a Ukrainian bestseller, drifts frequently through Odesa’s streets. It recalls my cherished Lalique Encre Noire, yet darker, more mysterious. It feels like an invitation, a temptation to step once again into the intensity and complexity of Odesa’s life.

Maison Francis Kurkdjian’s Aqua Celestia, finally, infuses mimosa blossoms within a luminous, green, woody composition. Mimosa trails like a golden thread from bright top notes of lime and black currant through the gentle sweetness of neroli and rose. A creamy musk enhances the softness. In this fragrance, I sense optimism—fragile yet determined—that mirrors my own ambivalent feelings of being torn between two worlds, comfort and conflict, longing and belonging.

And you—have you ever experienced a fragrance that felt like a bridge to another time or place? Which scents hold your memories, your longings?

Photography (1) by Dmitro Milutin. Image 2,3 by Victoria Belim-Frolova. All rights reserved.