I love the smell of creosote it takes me back to when I was a child growing up in the beautiful countryside in Scotland. We had wooden fences and there’s something about that smell that comforts me. I love the smell of a workshop, the oil, the metal, the wood, reminds of my Father, back when he was my Father. Fresh hay - that quintessential musty smell of summers past, another one of my “should be bottled” scents. I do not love, and in fact really detest, the smell of that perfume – the one it seems every Russian woman owns. In this neighborhood the air is thick with it, the kind of perfume that sticks to the back of your throat and makes your eyes sting. Ladies, less is more.