barbecue, lasagna, pipe tobacco, mowed grass, pine trees, jasmine, ocean, suntan lotion, beer (my parents always loved beer, used to make their own beer for a while when we lived in Alaska, and later had a cool old fridge, painted red, with a keg inside and a tap on the door. Best. Fridge. Ever.)

The smell of Old Spice. My dad wore it. To me it's the smell of fear. I catch one whiff of it today and I am right back to being 8 years old and full of terror.

Mowed grass - both from home and school (we had huge playing fields and in the summer in particular mowers would be going all day over the 1st XI cricket pitch).

Bonfires - from when I stayed at my granny's house.

Dog - my old Labrador, Jasper. Sounds a bit odd but any dog owners here will know that sort of doggy smell that pervades houses with a canine resident.

My dad smelling like factory oil and grease.

I am right back to being 8 years old and full of terror.

I know the feeling.

My dad usually smelt of cigarette smoke, unfortunately, although he did wear Old Spice a long time ago, and used Brylcreem in his hair...

Random old lady smells of my grandmother's friends.

At work, I often use a chinese herbal herbal linament called Zheng Gu Shai. When I'm asking for informed consent form a client to use it, I mention it's properties, and I'll often say "One of it's main ingredients is camphor, so it's aroma is reminiscient of Vick's Vaporub". Depending on the relationship I have I have with the client, we'll often go into a chat about what memories camphor evokes....
For me, it takes me back to being ill in bed, but feeling all wrapped up and nurtured and loved and having my mum or nana tending to me and tellign me I'm going to be all better soon, while massaging Vick's into my chest & back.

The musty canvas tent we used to go camping in as a happy, happy family.

The smell of diesel fuel & roasted chestnuts, which is the smell of NYC to me and in particular the smell of the Central Park Zoo. I guess I was just tall enough to get the full blast from the buses but I loved it: it meant we were going to be seeing the seals soon.

Fresh mown grass, the beach, suntan lotion, cigarettes, that undefinable smell of a grade school classroom, pot.

The smell of the hot attic where our playroom was. (Suddenly sounds all "Flowers in the Attic", anyone remember those strange books?)

The slightly medicinal/old person smell of my Nana and Pop-Pop's house. She always gave us homemade popsicals, and he always gave me a huge bouquet of flowers from his garden.

The smell of the lush backyard where I grew up, chock full of bamboo, woods, open fields, and great places to let your imagination roam.

The smell of the grapes that grew on the arbor attatched to our porch.

Ditto machine ink.

The smell of lilacs always takes me right back to my grandparents' house in Laramie, Wyoming... they had a huge lilac bush out front, and in the springtime, grandma would put bunches of fragrant purple blooms in jars and vases in every room of the house. It seems funny, all these years later, to spend so much money here in L.A. to get lilacs for the month or so they're in season -- I can get exotic flowers year round for next to nothing, but a bunch of lilacs is a rare and evocative treasure.