There would be a mix of Suavitel wafting out of the 24-hour coin laundromat on Adams and consomé from the L.A. ![]() The heart notes would be jasmine from peak-season walks with your dog through East Hollywood after sundown summer fire season freshly cut flowers - or, more specifically, fumbling out of a warehouse party in the early morning, the sun barely peeking out, and walking home through the Flower District. There is something distinct about the air. A person’s house can have a specific scent oftentimes, it goes unnoticed day to day, but some days - when a person returns after a long time away, when a friend walks through the door for the first time - the smell announces itself. Los Angeles is such an expanse of diverse geographies, microclimates, neighbors, businesses, cultures the city smells like a lot of different things, at different times, in different places, to different people. What, exactly, was I smelling? Scent and sense of place are interconnected. As soon as I saw the downtown skyline - driving north on the 110, or south coming down the 5 - I’d roll down all my car windows, take the deepest breath I’d taken all day and utter the words: “Smells like L.A.” ![]() Read the full issue here.Įvery time I left and came back, it was the same. This story is part of Image issue 10, “Clarity,” a living document of how L.A.
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