A couple of months ago, I read about Phulr’s Missing Person fragrance. It was intriguing, to say the least. Having gone through the various stages of loss and grief, I wondered how that scent smells. It is said to smell like someone you miss the most. Apart from Phlur’s Missing Person, Byredo’s De Los Santos is another one that was created by its perfumer after he lost his father and close friend. It was created as a tribute to life well-lived, to celebrate it. Can there be a fragrance or notes that can define the gut-wrenching pain you feel when you miss the presence of someone you have lost? Is there a scent that can mimic the emotions you felt in the presence of that someone special?

My sister was in the last trimester of her pregnancy when she caught COVID-19; and while we frantically searched for a hospital bed and oxygen cylinder during the deadly second phase of the pandemic, our efforts fell short at the end. I've suffered loss before, I lost my grandfather, who I loved dearly, when I was seven; at 12, I lost my dog who I called my best friend, and a few relatives who I was fond of. I still didn’t know how hard grief hits until I saw my sister for the last time. I spent days in bed not wanting to get up, shower, or eat. I would hold my nephew and cry for hours. I still cannot go back to old photos and chats, and the thought of letting go of her things sends shivers down my spine. So, when I read about Phulr’s fragrance, it also angered me. If you have lost someone close and special, you don’t have to smell a fragrance to acknowledge the absence of life, the emptiness, and the guilt you feel at the slightest feeling of joy.

A few months later, during a therapy session, my therapist introduced me to a couple of activities to tackle the different stages of grief, but I was hesitant. She asked me to bring out something that belongs to my sister and journal what I feel looking at it. ‘It could be a sweater, a piece of jewellery, or a photograph,’ I vividly remember her words. I could never do it. The thing about seeking help to understand grief and accept loss is that it makes you feel that you’re letting go of the pain which, in time, becomes the closest reminder of the person you have loved and lost.

However, it’s different with fragrances. Every mourner may have a scent, a smell, that reminds him of the person s/he has lost. When I opened my sister’s cupboard after a few months, I could smell her presence. She often wore Burberry Her and Chanel N°5; while Burberry Her is an intense fruity scent with berries at its top and musk as the base notes, Chanel N°5 is a sweet floral scent with a touch of vanilla. Between these notes, I could picture my sister in her long pastel dress, loosely pinned hair with her sunshine smile. I have heard that perfumes make you nostalgic, but can they help you grieve? Neuroscientists believe that memories sparked by a scent are often more intense as compared to those evoked by a song or a piece of belonging. Logically, it is said that inhaling perfume oils stimulates the limbic system, an area of the brain responsible for regulating emotions. Therefore, it’s natural to feel a sense of amusement whenever you smell jasmine because, maybe, your mother used to wear it in her hair; or the smell of lavender can be soothing for many for it can be a scent your grandmother used.

In the last three years, I have realised that grief is often misunderstood. While you grapple with it and try to process the new ‘normal’, society is quick to put you in an already laid-down framework of dealing with it. I was often told that grief has five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—and everyone raced to put me in one of these five brackets. It did not work for me and so, gradually I found myself connecting to her through perfumes. It doesn’t happen often; I don’t make a special effort to smell her scent to remind myself of her. Memories never leave but in perfumes, perhaps, you find joy.

I was in my early twenties when my sister went on a foreign trip and came back with a bottle of Chanel N°5 for me. It moved me to tears; she didn’t get one for herself, and so I bought it for her when I started earning. Ever since, the scent reminds me of her selflessness, her unconditional love for me and the family. The scent instantly feels like her warm embrace, and for a moment, I find her in the hug... her palms on my head, comforting me. I found relieving memories through scents fluid, they are not stuck in the frame of a picture or threads of a cloth. There’s something about perfumes, while they can be a sad reminder of life that’s lost, they can also spark joy but with a hint of pain that has made a place of its own in your subconscious mind.

Smelling my sister’s scents and at times wearing one helped me reinvent my relationship with her after she was gone. I cried profusely but I also smiled at the fact that I got to call her my sister and be with her during my childhood and some of the most significant milestones of my life. I started wearing her scents as a mark of celebration of the selfless life she lived—it made me disentangle joyful memories from the pain of loss and emptiness.

So, what is it that fragrances changed for me during my grief journey? I believe the two connect as they both linger. It has become a profound way of connecting with her, while the familiarity in the scents makes me miss her and mourn her absence, the softness of floral and fruity notes is mostly soothing and calming. You may find many iterations of ‘perfumes for grief’. However, I believe that it’s just a scent unless you associate strongly with a specific fragrance. Perfumes are not drugs; they cannot subdue feelings or mask emotions but perhaps they can help commemorate those we have lost. Grief takes up its space in your heart that once was filled with love and while perfumes can heal it, they can give you a smile as you wipe the tears off your face.