Would You Tell Me If I Smelled?
A test of love, friendship and malodor
A few years ago I was walking with my friend Rachael in the shallow reaches of Central Park when she asked me a question that pierced the soul of our friendship: “Would you tell me if I smelled?" Rachael has an escapist approach to speaking, in that thoughts would escape from her mouth briskly and with little hesitation. It’s both caustic and comforting—like rubbing alcohol applied liberally to a cut. But on this particular occasion, her question struck me.
We walked on past joggers and smokers, who all surely smelled. I found myself struggling with an answer and muttered something about offering her some nicely scented soap. I tried to imagine a scenario in which Rachael, who in the six years of our friendship had not once made me question the thoroughness of her toilette, would smell so bad that not informing her of her stench would be committing an act of friendship treason. Maybe if she were heading to the sauna after an all-you-can eat anchovy-fest. Or, perhaps going to meet the President directly following a night of hard drinking. The gravity of the circumstance would have to align with an equal degree of clusterstench that the necessity of asserting the obvious would far outweigh the risk of our mutual humiliation. “Sure. I’d tell you if you smelled.” And as soon as I said it, I wondered if it was really true. “Would you tell me if I smelled?” I asked. “Of course!" She replied without a beat. "I wouldn’t want you walking around stinky.” And I knew it was true. But would others show me the same level of raw commitment?
I posed the question to my boyfriend, who, always flattering and guided by a delicate touch, had a propensity for dodging tough questions.
Me: Would you tell me if I smelled?
BF: Yes, because that would be an aberration [aww]. Usually you smell great, so if you didn't, it'd mean something's up. Are you afraid you smell?
Me: No, I don't fear that I smell. But it's an important question. It goes beyond spinach in the teeth or a trail of toilet paper stuck to a shoe.
BF: If you smelled from the start, I don't think we'd be dating. And if you started smelling, then it'd be a sign of a larger issue.
Me: I don't mean if it were a medical issue. I mean, what if I just smelled one day?
BF: I'd be like: “Love, let’s take a shower.” And then we'd take a shower together.
I appreciated his discretion and I henceforth suspected all invitations to a shared shower.
My mother, as always, was less delicate:
Me: Would you tell me if I smelled?
Mother: Yes.
Me: What would you say to me?
Mother: I’ll say to you: “you smell.”
I sincerely hoped that her decision to put her answer in the future tense wasn’t her way of assuring me that one day, I would surely smell.
For the record: I have been told by a diverse group of people that I smell very nice. I have been stopped by complete strangers who have inquired about my pleasant scent and have demanded answers.
I pressed onward. Next, I asked my best friend. She was harder to pin down.
Me: Would you tell me if I smelled?
BFF: It depends on the smell.
Me: No it doesn’t.
BFF: Are we talking about generic BO? I think that BO is easier to address than full-on nasty smell.
Me: Let’s say BO. What would you say?
BFF: I might say something like: "Oh, I thought I smelled something that resembles a gym." Which is still mean, in my opinion.
Me: It’s not mean—you'd be doing me a favor! What if I just stank? Like an indescribably bad smell?
BFF: I would follow the same convention, but more general: "I smell something strange."
Me: And then look in my direction?
BFF: I would be too afraid to look at the person.
Me: Even me!?
BFF: How do you tell your friend they smell???? That's terrible.
Me: Thanks for the insight. Now I know I can’t count on you if I ever smelled.
BFF: Ugh. Well, now I’ll just say: “Damn, Adee—you so funky!”
It is a true test of character to look a person in the eye and tell them that they are unfresh. Forget asking a friend or loved one to pick you up from the airport, help you move or plan your bridal shower, just meet up for dinner after working out at a poorly ventilated gym and see what they’re really made of. This party trick will make quick work of a burgeoning relationship, so save it for someone you are close to but whose loyalty is perhaps questionable. I only hope to one day have the chance to turn to someone near and dear to me, hold my breath and exhale long enough to say: "you smell."
In the meantime, I ventured onto the final frontier: the workplace. My boss, who always smelled subtly nice, usually had tactful and innovative ways to handle people's idiosyncrasies. She also never failed to point out a crumb clinging to my shirt. I knew I could count on her. But before I had the chance to make us both uncomfortable, I found something disquieting waiting for me on my desk. I had recently done her a big favor and now I found myself staring at a neatly wrapped bar of scented soap with my name on it.
Boss: Doesn’t it smell good!?
Me: Ugh. It smells great.
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