Beautiful experiences are like cherished clothes at the season’s end. We put them away, yet they hold on to every moment we wore them.
I remember, as a child, opening my father’s wardrobe while he was away on a theatre tour. I would close my eyes, bury my face into his shirts, and breathe in that familiar, comforting scent. In the silence among the hanging coats, his violin solo from Swan Lake would suddenly start playing in my mind.
Scents possess a unique magic – they hold the keys to doors into our past that we thought were locked forever. Some seasons leave us, yet their scent never quite fades. We can open the right door, embrace the soft fabric of our memories, and breathe in their fragrance whenever the world outside turns cold.
