A Scent of Nostalgia

In this episode, A Scent of Nostalgia: Old Spice . . .

Empty!

Here’s an odd question: Is there a particular scent that instantly transports you back to childhood? For me, it's the unmistakable aroma of Old Spice Aftershave. It was my dad's go-to, or perhaps the only affordable option at Kroger when Mom did the grocery shopping.

This got me thinking; I wonder when Dad started using Old Spice?

I distinctly recall the opaque white glass bottle from the 1960s on his shaving shelf. The front featured a sailing ship illustration; the "Old Spice" branding was in red script below it. The bottle's tapered shape narrowed toward the top, culminating in a small aperture secured with a gray stopper.

Did you know that Old Spice has a fascinating history? It all started in 1937 when the Shulton Company, founded by William Lightfoot Schultz, introduced a unique fragrance. Interestingly, this original product was meant for women! Inspired by his mother's delightful potpourri, Schultz named it 'Early American Old Spice.' His vision was to capture the charming essence of colonial times, and he beautifully showcased this theme with packaging featuring colonial sailing ships, creating a lasting identity for the brand.

Building on the initial success of its women's fragrance, the Shulton Company proudly introduced Old Spice for Men in Est. 1938. (This is still printed on all bottles.) This line featured shaving soap and aftershave lotion infused with that classic, distinctive scent many cherish today. It wasn't long before men's products outshone women's range in popularity, establishing Old Spice as a beloved name among men's grooming brands.

The iconic Old Spice scent, a blend of citrus, flowers, and vanillin, established itself as a beloved favorite in men's grooming, first in America and then worldwide.

In 1990, the consumer goods giant Procter & Gamble (P&G) welcomed Old Spice into its family, ushering in an exciting new chapter filled with growth and innovation.

I still keep a bottle of Old Spice (the same bottle design, but now plastic) for myself. It’s more than just aftershave; it reminds me of simpler times. This familiar scent evokes comforting memories of a smooth-shaven face and a childhood hug from Dad. I don’t remember my father ever having facial hair. In his later years, he used an electric razor.

However, when I reached for my aftershave this morning, it was empty!

So, I wrote to Santa for a bottle in my stocking this Christmas. Ok, I’ll come clean; I ordered one from Amazon.

I’m curious: have you ever smelled something that instantly transported you back to your childhood?

I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...

Our Journey to Avignon

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part 1) When everything that can go wrong—does—sometimes grace still finds you. Our Monday morning trip began on the quiet island of Noirmoutier , where salt marshes and sea breezes whisper of simpler days. From there, our early morning drive was uneventful; we arrived at the Nantes station with plenty of time to spare. From Nantes to Paris Montparnasse, everything went smoothly—so we thought, until it didn't. That's when things started to unravel. If you've never traveled the Paris Metro , imagine a vast underground maze pulsing beneath the city—corridors twisting into one another, trains roaring in and out of the dark, staircases that rise and fall like riddles. It's efficient, yes—but only if you know where you're going. We had over an hour and a half to make our next train to Avignon —plenty of time. Or so we believed. We needed to reach the Gare de Lyon station, where our TGV (high-speed train) was headed south...

On The Fly

Search This Blog