This cultural history of smell focuses mostly on France from the 1500s to through the 1800s. It's a fascinating journey, starting from a time when nasty smells were given as a part of life for everyone, high and low, and were accepted with good humor. In the following era things smelled little better but bad smells became associated with evil and sexual temptation. Rather than bathing, people combatted bad smells with stronger good smells. Women were thought to smell bad and men good, even when the women were clean and the men were sweaty and filthy. Bad smells became associated with disease, particularly the plague, but not because of an understanding that bad smell was connected with microbes and uncleanliness, but because of the idea of disease carrying miasmas. The favored scents of this era were strong perfumes derived from animal products, principally musk, civet and ambergris. But then in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as high fashion worked its way down to the middle classes and a period of general social prosperity came along, there was a switch in preference to floral smells which were softer and more romantic. The book also speaks in passing of the modern era, in which we have moved to a scentless society, in which the ideal smell is the appearance of no smell at all. It was all very interesting, though I would have enjoyed more cross cultural analysis so that I could have better understood whether the path of France was representative of the rest of Europe and the extent, if at all, that similar developments took place in the rest of the world.
This is a book that my dad would have loved, so as I read it I was thinking about how much I would have enjoyed discussing it with him. He had a deeply scatalogical mind and loved talking about shit and the smell of shit. He was fond of telling me that every man's shit smells good to himself, a proposition that I learned from this book goes back at least to Montaigne, perhaps earlier. And he loved to retail folk ideas about the smells of men and women, cloaking them wherever possible under some scholarly veneer. Mr. Muchambled is my dad's secret smelly twin. I think that they would have liked each other.