i was ironing a shirt this morning (truth be told, several shirts. i was reading an article on christopher ely and it made me want to iron.) when the steam that pffted off the shirt shook me. i hadn't worn the shirt in years and i never wore it that much to begin with so it had plenty of time to steep itself in the ambient scents of my previous life. the hot steam release of a pocket of the past was the last thing i was expecting this morning and it made me wonder about other people who train their noses and memories.
I wonder whether there's a higher tendency towards melancholy in those in the wine and beer industry. anything that demands training the nose to pick out specific aromas and to connect them with past bottles, descriptors, and experiences. really digging your nose into a wine or beer can reveal such a complex fabric; threads of recollection: cherry, garrigue, reductive, or petrol but also comparisons of "like the '02 whatever' or "the '97 thisandthat". and, of course, it's too easy for the bouquet to take you to when you had that '02 whatever and where and with whom and what happened then.
the trick, i suppose, is to have far more pleasant experiences to associate than not.
and always to be adding great wine/beer related experiences like our champagne and mencia and craft beer weekend. leftovers and reruns and '97 beaune greves.