When I was a little girl, I’d spend the days at my grandmother’s house while my parents worked. She lived in the northern part of Mexico City, and we lived in the southern part. I remember it would take ages to get there.

My grandmother’s house was a very square house. When you came in there was a patio with lots of plants. She loved her plants. She had many pots with violets and other plants. I can see her using her hands pruning the plants of dry leaves, with her glistening polished nails.

It was a two-story house. On the left-hand side, you would come to the kitchen. On the right-hand side, you would come to the living room. Then there’s another patio in the back. That’s where the lavadero was; a large stone on the wall that has grooves and a basin attached. That’s where she did all the hand-washing.

It was like there were two different worlds in the house, in a way. The living room and the dining room on the right-hand side were always clean and tidy. All the activity took place on the left-hand side, in the kitchen where they cooked. And then through a door that opened up to the backyard, at the lavadero, where the washing took place.

The thing that was constant in my grandmother’s house was the smell of soap. In Mexico we use a particular bar soap called “Zote” soap. It’s a pale pink soap with white paper wrapping. And we use it to wash everything. It’s a staple in every Mexican home.

There is a cultural thing in Mexico about being very clean. We have this saying “I may be poor, but I’m very clean.” When you don’t have much, the little things that you do have mean a lot. And those things in your hands actually show that you care, that you love someone. They show your values, I guess. And being clean shows your values. So that’s a big thing. Having a clean house also showed that you had pride in your home. People knew you cleaned, and the basic bar soap was what you used.

My grandmother would wear an apron to cook, and she’d wash it every day. And she’d wash the clothes that she wore to clean with, every day. And all the cleaning rags, facial cloths, everything we used, she would clean with this soap. And she’d clean her hands with it too.

So, if she had any dirty clothes, she would first finish cleaning the kitchen, and then immediately go outside and wash them. There was a lot of scrubbing with water, even if there isn’t a lot of water in Mexico. We use the dirty water from washing laundry to flush the toilet or to wash the floor on the patio: water is precious, and we are always trying to not waste it.

At my grandmother’s I never saw a pile of laundry because everything was cleaned immediately. The same with the underwear. As soon as you wore it, it was handwashed, scrubbed and hung out to dry. And I was always around observing, asking “what are you doing?”

To be clear, it wasn’t a sterile clean. There was a liveliness in the home. We were able to touch and move things. We could be free. My grandmother had lots of canaries who chirped, and she sang a lot, so beautifully. There were also a lot of women around. Four of my aunties still lived at home, at my grandparents’, some of whom worked, or were finishing school. I remember when they would come home, they’d always bring the sweet Mexican breads. Most of the time, though, it was me, my grandmother, and one maid I remember fondly.

My grandmother was a very elegant woman of the 50’s. Even in the 1970’s her hair was well coiffed. She had beautiful hands and well-manicured nails that had sparkly pink nail polish. She was so beautiful. Of course, when you’re little you just think it’s your grandmother.

My grandmother never worked outside of the home. She was always a housewife. She had 8 children. My aunts and one maid always helped. My grandmother was in charge of the cooking; she kept things going. And she was in charge of the shopping. We would go to the market together, which I loved because it was noisy and lively, and we always came back with fresh tasty fruit.

We’re a very affectionate family. My grandmother always hugged everyone. And my aunts, when they came home from work, they’d scoop me up and start kissing and squishing me. A couple of my aunts often wore perfume; it felt heavy and clung to me after they hugged me. But my grandmother’s scent was different; it was always that very subtle soap smell.

Every time my grandmother hugged or caressed me, I could smell soap, especially on her hands. It was a clean, loving, soap smell. But also, when she washed my food-stained clothes. I’d return home with the clothes smelling of the soap and this was a lingering memory of the love I was given at my grandparents’ house, my second home.

The soap smells completely soapy. It’s a traditional type of Marseille soap; rosy, oily, and waxy from the base itself. The smell is fresh, lively, creamy, and rich. And it’s always mixed with fabric; that dry, dusty fabric. Or the smell was mixed with my grandmother’s hands, and the warmth of her skin. But it was also fresh because of the green, metallic notes. It was very reassuring.

I can still get that smell today because those subtle nuances are in all soaps. In fact, I’ve gone back to using soap because I love the smell. But it’s not just the scent itself. There are other sensory elements blended in as well. Like the tactile feel of the creaminess, which appears as you add water, and the bar starts to disintegrate and soften.

When I smell soap today, it evokes care for me; and also love. A gentle type of care and cleanliness. This “clean” smell feels like safety, like a sense of home, and also pride. It’s always very emotional to wash with this soap, and to also clean my hands with it.

When my grandmother hugged me, it was love, but there was also that sensorial cue coming from the scent of the soap to reinforce the love. That was the nice thing about my grandmother. I could be sitting on her lap watching television, eating yummy bread, and I would be embraced by this very subtle, clean soap smell. It was the backdrop. It wasn’t strong, assaulting you. It was really subtle. A subtle clean backdrop, always in your nose.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? A soothing hum.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? Shimmering, pale pink.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? Undulating, soft and creamy.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? It would tell me to cherish the simple things of everyday life. To honor the day-to-day things that we do for each other. Because, although they may seem like chores, we're doing them with a purpose; we're looking after others and showing people we care.

It would also tell me to pay attention to the here and now. We’re so focused on creating these big memories, like going to Disney World. But it’s actually about the day-to-day constants in your life that weave time together. I reflect on that with my son, for example. What am I doing today to create those bonds? It’s not about the amazing holiday that we had, but rather the day-to-day cleaning I’m doing to show my love.

My grandmother was doing the same for me. She wasn’t creating any special games as far as I can remember. She was simply in the house, being there, and including me in all the things she had to do. And it was that routine that gave me a feeling of safety. There was no fear because there were no surprises. There was just unconditional love. I’m so grateful to have experienced that.