So the other day I was busted by an employee at our local comic shop here in The 'Banks: he handed me a recently released + recommended title, which after opening I reflexively took a big sniff of a page. No worry, as for him there's nothing like opening up a new set of gaming cards, so I felt right back at home. Probably one of the few places in public one wouldn't have to worry overmuch about looking like a total nerd.
But it did set me to wondering about this phenomenon: after a cursory Google search there is plenty of material out there on the well-established olfactory instinct of any bibliophile upon entering an antique establishment. And my entire childhood is predicated upon many, many memories of reading books - either in one of my father's used bookshops, while visiting my mother's library, or from my own collection lining one entire wall of my teenage lair.
Not much at all on the subgenre nerdgasm of comic books specifically. Aside from food itself, a couple notable triggers along these lines I routinely personally experience are the spring thaws in Alaska that immediately transport me back to coastal Maine. And both Roastaroma tea and the scent of Nikwax boot waterproofing will promptly cause me to mentally reach for a backpack, as they are indelibly associated with trekking. The only other instance I can recall would be new LP's that came hand-in-glove with picking up new releases from the record store back in the day.
|excerpted from Cinnamonseries|
At any rate, I'm sure I'm not alone in this. And even if it is one of the usual delusional tendencies that occupy my time, it's part and parcel of palpable, sensual connection that underscores the importance of making things, holding them and touching them offline.