Sick Scents: Fragrances I reached for the last week while under the weather
- Hilary Burke
- Apr 6
- 3 min read
The Scents I Reached For the Most While Sick (When What I Really Wanted Was My Mom)
There’s a very specific kind of vulnerability that comes with being sick.
The kind that slows everything down. The kind that makes even small tasks feel heavy. The kind that, if you’re honest, makes you want your mom.
And while I have a home filled with love — a family who stepped in, carried the weight, kept things moving while I rested, coughed, and generally felt like a shell of myself — there’s still a quiet ache for something that simply can’t be replaced.
So I reached for what I could.
Not medicine.
Not productivity.
Comfort.
And for me, comfort often lives in scent.
A Week of Reaching for Softness
What I noticed most wasn’t just what I wore — but why.
Everything I reached for had a softness to it.
Nothing loud. Nothing demanding.
Just gentle, familiar, close-to-the-skin comfort.
This was the one I reached for most.
Powdery, floral, gently sweet — the kind of scent that doesn’t try too hard.
It just is.
There’s something about it that feels timeless, and oh so effortless. It's earned it's accolades after 91 years of longevity and remaining a classic.
When everything in my body felt off, this felt… steady. Soft. Familiar.
I reached for this on a cold, rainy day.
It felt like wrapping myself in a blanket and holding a warm cup of tea I didn’t quite have the energy to drink.
Creamy. Spicy. Slightly powdery.
The kind of scent that sits close and comforts.
Scent Trunk — Stroopwafel
When you’re sick, food loses its appeal.
But comfort? You still crave that.
This felt like dessert without having to eat it.
Smoky caramel. Creamy vanilla.
That warm waffle-cookie sweetness.
A quiet indulgence when my throat and senses said no to everything else.
This one felt like being wrapped in something delicate.
Soft florals.
Powder.
Air.
It carried this quiet femininity that didn’t feel performative —just comforting.
Like slipping into something clean, light, and familiar.
Clean sheets.
A fresh shirt.
That first deep breath of something simple.
Green. Luminous. Clean.
It didn’t try to comfort me with warmth —it comforted me with clarity.
DefineMe — Nearly Nude
If comfort could be distilled into a scent, it might smell like this.
Milky. Soapy. Barely there.
Like a warm bath.
Like clean skin.
Like exhaling.
I sprayed this a lot.
This one felt like a promise, a promise that I just might feel better.
Figs. Tea. Soft sunlight.
Even though I was inside, sick, and very much not in the sun —this brought a little bit of light in.
Green. Slightly milky. Quietly uplifting.
The Kind of Comfort You Can Reach For
None of these scents gave me what I actually wanted. Which was my mom.
They didn’t recreate that kind of care. Nothing ever will.
But they did something else. They softened the edges of a hard week.
They gave shape to comfort when I needed it.
They reminded me that even when everything feels off — when it hurts to swallow, when your head hurts, and your body aches, there are still small ways to feel held.
And sometimes… in a very Sooo Human way — that’s enough.
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