What’s your favourite sense?

Marc Jacobs Daisy Sorbet -  succulent blend of sheer florals with a hint of fruit
Marc Jacobs Daisy Sorbet - succulent blend of sheer florals with a hint of fruit
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I’m rather fond of my nose. Not my actual nose I might add – which I’ve never liked as it’s far too prominent for my face – but the things my nose can do.

I’m not talking about my journalistic ability to sniff out a good story or my innate nosiness (I’m just doing my job, OK!), but the actual thing our noses do, as in the sense of smell.

Aasma Day

Aasma Day

I somehow got embroiled into a peculiar conversation the other day among a group of friends when someone asked the bizarre question: “What’s your favourite sense?” and then embellished it by asking: “If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you least like to sacrifice?”

Not quite believing I was seriously considering such a question, I ended up plumping for sight as my favourite sense that I definitely didn’t want to lose.

I mean how terrible would it be to suddenly not be able to see after experiencing the glorious sights there are?

But, truth be known, I’m pretty fond of all my senses and would be loathe to give up any of them.

And the sense of smell is often an overlooked one, but it would really get up your nose if you suddenly couldn’t smell any more.

However, some people don’t have a sense of smell at all or have a very weak one.

When I first met Hubby and we were in our early dating days, I remember when he was still trying to impress, he was quite effusive with the compliments.

But after a while, I was struck by the fact that, although he often told me I looked nice, or that he liked my dress or my hair, he had never told me I smelled nice … something I had often been complimented on in the past.

Worried I was going a bit pongy, I lathered myself in even more fragrant shower cream and body lotions and squirted myself with so much perfume I’m sure I smelled like a lady of the night’s boudoir.

Still, there was absolutely nothing from Keith telling me how ambrosial I smelt.

In the end, my patience ran out and I wafted my wrist below his nose and demanded: “Do you like my new perfume?”

“Yes, it’s very nice.” he replied unconvincingly and suddenly realisation dawned. “You can’t smell can you?” I asked and he confessed he had always had a very faint sense of smell and could only sniff out really strong aromas.

He wouldn’t be any use in a gas leak would he?