Does perfume feed (on) our brains?

What if each new fragrance we test was actually leeching away our brain’s processing power?

That’s the first thing I thought when I read an article on Salon.com reporting the findings of Dr. Eric Spangenberg, an environmental psychologist and the dean of Washington State University’s College of Business. Dr. Spangenberg carried out a study in a home-goods store in Switzerland and two others with his undergraduates in the US to compare the effects of three olfactive environments: unscented, scented with orange, and scented with a more complex blend of orange, basil and green tea (the two scents both tested as similarly pleasant).

It turns out the single-note scent was the only one to make a difference: in the Swiss store, customers spent 20 percent more, while the undergraduates solve more computerized anagrams more quickly. No-scent and complex scent environments yielded identical results.

It would make sense that a pleasant scent, if it is compatible with the environment, would drive customers to linger in a store and therefore be exposed to more temptations. It’s also quite possible that the smell of oranges lifts the mood of students solving anagrams, therefore enhancing their intellectual performance because they’re less stressed out.

When I reached out to Dr. Spangenberg to discuss these issues, this is what he answered:

“Our interpretation of fluency theory suggests that it is either, as you suggest, increased affect for the simple scent and therefore they are in a better mood, or the scent enhances cognitive capacity (and isn’t too complex and therefore taking up processing capacity).  It could be some combination of both explanations which would help explain why we found no difference in response behaviors between complex and no-scent, and simple scent was better (significantly) that both of those conditions.”

The processing fluency theory he refers to is “the ease with which information is processed in the human mind” (according to Wikipedia). It seems that “high fluency is subjectively experienced as positive”: in other words, we feel good when we can suss something out easily. In this theory, fluency has a bearing on what we find beautiful based on symmetry, familiarity, etc.

This would explain why the orange-basil-tea, though as pleasant as the orange, doesn’t produce the same effect when people experience it without being aware of it. Their brains are actually using up processing resources to identify the notes – a bit like a background program slowing other software down. Because the fragrance itself becomes a problem to be solved, they are less engaged by other stimuli (buying napkins or solving anagrams). It’s like a nagging, subconscious “I’ve got it on the tip of my tongue” feeling.

This may be why I, for one, refrain from testing a new fragrance – or even from wearing fragrance at all – when I’m about to tackle a tricky intellectual task. As though I needed to shut the “background program”, the floating attention required to turn my impressions of a fragrance into words as I experience it over the hours.

But on the other hand, floating attention – as opposed to knitted-brow, “pick out the notes” sessions over blotters – is usually what yields the most creative results. It’s when I forget the fragrance that I find the words. They pop up while I’m performing some mindless activity like walking or taking a shower. Which is where processing fluency must kick in: I’ve trained the smell => words paths in my brain, so the connection happens spontaneously when I’m not trying to force it. All perfume lovers are familiar with that eureka moment.

This makes me wonder whether it’s possible that some fine fragrances, despite their complexity, achieve a harmony that makes people process them fluently without even being aware of it. Not necessarily because they are simple, figurative and/or familiar, but because somehow their olfactory forms make as much sense as the smell of oranges, echoing proportions, or achieving the same relationship between their notes, as something produced by nature. Perhaps that is the key to the success of some original fragrances – as opposed to copycats: people perceive these proportions subconsciously and respond to their harmony.

It's also possible that becoming more fluent in the language of scent, dedicated perfume lovers may experience the pleasurable feelings procured by fluent processing more frequently. In that case, though testing different scents drains some of our brainpower, we’d be benefitting because this fluent processing would subtly enhance our mood, and maybe even our cognitive capacities.

That’s probably not something that can be tested in labs, but it’s a damn sight more reassuring than to think all those vials around my computer are competing to suck out my brain like tiny zombies. If yours have enough gray cells left to respond, I’d love to read your thoughts…

For another take on Dr. Spangenberg’s research, please check out Dr. Avery Gilbert’s blog, First Nerve.

Illustration: Gala Narciso by Salvador Dali, 1938.