Growing up in Parsippany, New Jersey in the 1960’s, my younger brother and I would spend the summers at the community pool in our apartment complex. It was a very functional set up, the kind of pool environment you’d find in most places around the world. It was your typical rectangular shaped pool, surrounded by concrete and plastic lounge chairs, and enclosed by a chain link fence.

My brother and I would spend hours in the pool, splashing around, entertaining ourselves during the hot and humid summer days. The truth was, I hated swimming. Unlike my brother, who was an athlete and did laps and elegant dives, I did cannonballs and just goofed around. I think it was because I wore glasses, and couldn’t see in the pool. For me swimming was a nightmare and I ended up spending most of my time under water. I liked having a diving mask on because I didn’t have to hold my nose, and I could see because I could keep my glasses on.

As far as I was concerned, being in the water was always a visual experience. I would go into the water, and immediately go under. I’d look at the light coming through the water. And there were the different aspects of how long I could hold my breath, as well as how long I could be under water, more than on the water. I didn’t so much swim, as much as I used the water for therapeutic purposes, mentally or physically, in the submersion space, not in the physical activity space.

But it was coming out of the pool that has had such an impact on me. It’s the experience after splashing in the pool which evokes such strong feelings. The water was always cold and refreshing, and when I’d get out, I’d always be a little chilled. I’d take my pool towel and, instead of lying on the lounge chair, I’d take the fresh, dry pool towel and place it down on the hot concrete right next to the pool. I’d lie face down on the towel, totally wet, and I’d close my eyes and just be still.

Right at that moment, there was always this amazing scent that would appear. It was a combination of lots of different smells converging into one - the steaming hot concrete, the fresh, fluffy pool towel, my own body with the chlorinated water, and the sun baking it all together.

The first thing you really pick up on is the chlorine on the cotton towel. The pool wetness, the marine notes, on the cotton towel with or without the notes that might be there in terms of fabric softener. Usually the pool towel doesn’t have that typical laundry note. It’s not your everyday towel so it doesn’t have that laundry smell.

But then there’s this richness that comes from the mineral notes of the hot concrete. There’s that smell of wet concrete that’s another level of the scent experience that you wouldn’t expect. It’s a dichotomy of the hard and the soft coming together. You’ve got the hard, the soft, the wet, and the hot because you’ve got the sun element. You wouldn’t think the sun would add a fragrance note but it does in the steaming part; the steaming of the water on your skin, the steaming of the water on the concrete, and the steaming of the water on the towel. The three of those coming together - that’s the fragrance. That scent has the layers of concrete, skin, fabric, all of it. And your face is right in it.

Part of the scent experience is also the sounds that you hear. They’re always exactly the same. They’re not any different, no matter where you are in the world. It’s always the same muffled sound. There’s the splashing that’s happening in the pool, there’s laughter and joy, there’s conversation, and there’s so much going on. And, it’s exactly the same, no matter where you are. It doesn’t matter what language it’s in. You’re hearing the same sounds around that pool. And the smell is the same. The sound is the same. And you meld into your own childhood memory. You become neither here nor there. You disappear in that space. It’s so wild.

I wouldn’t call it a summer smell. It’s not summer to me. It’s not always summer when you’re at a pool lying on the hot concrete. In fact, the beauty of that smell is that when you close your eyes, you could be anywhere you’ve ever been, at any point in your life, at any time of year. You’ll always have that same experience. That scent experience never changes. It’s exactly the same no matter what pool I’m at in any part of the world. All you need is a combination of those 3-4 things together and the scent is always the same. When you close your eyes, you can be that little kid again. It takes you right back to the first time. It’s so fascinating to me to think that a smell can do that.

What’s incredible is that this smell is the ultimate in relaxation. It’s totally calming because you just lie there. You don’t have to go anywhere; you aren't doing anything. It’s so meditative because you just let the sun bake you dry. And you use the towel to keep you from burning on the hot concrete. It’s like a spa experience. It’s totally calming.

And I love that it’s a scent memory that has always stayed with me. A few summers ago I was at the pool here in my town and I did the same ritual as always. Now I’ll swim my laps, I’ll get out, and I still don’t want to lie on the lounge chair. Instead I'll lie on the concrete, on my towel. I’ll have that same exact experience I had when I was a kid.

I always wonder why everyone isn’t lying on the side of the lounge chair on the concrete. I mean, it’s way better. In fact, it’s even better when you cross your arms and make a pillow for your head. Then you’ve got that sort of humidifier going on in your headspace. It’s fantastic. It makes me salivate. It’s so intoxicating that you almost need it. You just need it. It’s totally meditative.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? The sound of dropping a pebble in a well. There’s an echo. You can hear the silence of it falling down the hole and there’s an anticipation of waiting for it to hit the water. And then it goes “plup.” It echoes and comes right back up at you.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? Rust color. The brownish-red color that you see when your eyes are closed and you look into the sun. I don’t know what I’m seeing, but I see light through my closed eyelids.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? Boxed bucatini pasta. It’s hard on the outside and hollow in the middle. it’s not until you heat it and wet it that it becomes limp and malleable.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? It would tell me to not lose the child within. Even though that memory is distant, it’s familiar. It’s a calming and happy place. And the beauty is that you can always go there. Remember to not forget that place, hang on to it. The fact that I can always go back there is incredible. The peace that I find when I get there is the peace that I advise myself to remember to have.