I grew up in Cairo, Egypt, which is a city rich with sensory experiences, especially the smells. You don’t realize that you’re absorbing all of these aromas when you live there because it’s just normal. But visiting these days, I can recognize certain places in Cairo simply by their scent.

To get a rest from the bustling city life, my family and I would spend the weekends and some of the summer months at my father’s family farm in Beni Suef, about 1 hour south of Cairo. It’s a beautiful farm surrounded by old citrus trees, and we had many farm animals and dogs running around. I remember my sisters and I would spend the whole day outside playing with the animals, so happy, but smelling completely filthy at the end of the day.

I can clearly recall the season when the citrus trees flowered and the scent of neroli filled the air. We’d open our windows in the morning and that lovely smell would welcome us to start the day.

But the smell that reminds me the most of my time on the farm is the scent of orange zest. I must have been around 6 or 7 years old, visiting on a winter weekend. My sisters and I would be playing outside all day, and in the evening, after washing up, we’d have a nice big family meal with my parents, sisters, aunt and grandmother all sitting around a big dining room table on the second floor of the farmhouse. My mother always cooked these amazing meals using whatever was available from the farm. And we’d happily eat the food and catch up on whatever happened that day.

What I remember most distinctly was my grandmother. You should know that she was always nicely dressed at the table in her house robe. Her hair was perfectly curled and silver with a little blue tint that I remember would always catch the light. She was never not elegant. She would sit at the table after dinner and have whatever fruit is in season, whether it was oranges, apples, or whatever. She’d insist that we had to finish the meal with something sweet. You know, I still do until now!

On this occasion it was winter, so she would eat oranges for dessert. As a kid, for me, fruit wasn’t dessert. To me it had to be sweet like chocolate or cake or something. That’s what sweet was to me. To me fruit was a snack, not a dessert. But my grandmother would still say if it’s sweet then it’s dessert, it just happens to be good for you.

Sitting at the table I’d watch her peel the orange with her hands, creating a perfect spiral peel, and then putting the pieces off to the side and not throwing it away. I was fascinated by that. I thought, you’re not supposed to play with your food, so what was she doing?

As she peeled the orange, I always remember the orange zest smell. Because you get that little snap of freshness. To this day I still love that smell of orange zest.

I recall the orange always being very juicy and really messy to eat. The juice flowing down my hand, getting all sticky. And that smell was a really strong smell. You’d bite into the orange and it would pop with juice and you’d get a little bit of the white pith too. It’s a happy little explosion for the senses.

While we were eating, I’d watch her take the orange peel and rub it over her skin, over the top of her hand. It was such a little thing, but I was fascinated by it. Because, first of all, you’re not supposed to be playing with your food. But if my grandmother is doing it then it’s fine. And second of all, I was thinking why is she putting food all over her hands? She’d say that it was to keep you smelling fresh and looking young.

You know, when you’re a child, your grandmother always looks and feels very old to you. But she always had these really super soft hands. She had arthritis in her hands, but her skin was always very smooth. So, she was definitely onto something. In fact, she would occasionally talk about her grandmother being this beauty who had flawless skin and amazing hair. She only washed her face with neroli or rose water. It sounded very exotic and sophisticated to me.

There were clearly threads of beauty tips being passed down through the generations, but just visually. You just observed and followed along as your grandmother did. It was using simple and available ingredients that were mostly local. Hearing her stories I saw my grandmother had an openness to her, which I always admired.

If I think about the smell of orange zest today it makes me really happy because it's related to her, and I loved her. And because it was related to a time when I was just a kid running wild with no care in the world. That smell is connected to all of those good times.

And if I peel an orange today, it makes me feel comforted and reassured. I’ve smelled a lot of the other citruses and I like them all. I just love the element of citrus. But I always go back to the orange. There’s something about the orange that attracts me the most. To me it’s happiness, freedom, comfort and no responsibilities. It immediately takes me back to a time when the only thing I had to worry about was when I was going to feed the dogs and what to name the new puppy.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? Loud, sharp and piercing, but in a nice way, with a pleasant, melodic rhythm.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? White light. It’s bright and luminous.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? It’s the feeling of running your fingers across embossed paper, like an expensive wedding invitation.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? In one word it would be embrace. The scent tells me to embrace the day, to embrace the moment. To put yourself out there. The scent reminds me to be open to new things and, at the same time, receptive to receiving new things. It’s both an inward and outward message. The advice doesn’t feel like fear. It’s a safe openness. There’s no element of fear in the embrace. It’s a completely safe feeling of being open because you know that there’s always someone who has your back.