
One of the side effects of living with chronic migraines is that my nose has become remarkably sensitive to scents. I can smell things that don’t bother most people, things that most people don’t notice — things like the smell of dryer sheets on clothes that have been worn for a full day already, or cigarette smoke on the highway, or my mother’s scented handsoap while we’re cooking dinner together.
Smell sensitivity is not uncommon for migraineurs while experiencing migraines. For some of us, scents like these trigger migraines. It’s a boatload of fun.
Gradually, I’ve adopted a scent-free lifestyle; I’ve had to. I make my own unscented laundry detergent, use fragrance-free soaps, and favor beeswax candles when in need of a little ambiance. My hair product is strictly coconut oil, and when I want to clean, vinegar and baking soda are my new best friends.
These are all things that don’t bother me. I can smell these smells and I won’t get a migraine because of them.
Since cutting back on the onslaught of scented chemicals in my life, I’ve noticed that with one sniff I can distinguish between artificial fragrance and a naturally-derived scent (like essential oils). There’s something especially pungent about fake smells like the kind you find in air fresheners and body lotion. They’re acrid; they linger in the nose. And more than that, for this savvy blogger they cause an instant migraine.
I feel like a canary in a coalmine.
Artificial fragrance used in scented products contains carcinogens, hormone-disrupters, and unregulated chemicals. When you put on scents or breathe them in, you’re actually introducing poisons into your body. Your clothes that come out of the dryer smelling like a mountain stream? Dirtier than when you threw them in the wash. Your cucumber-melon bodywash is like washing in turpentine, and you might as well tattoo on a hazardous waste symbol when you wear perfume.
Not to scare you, intrepid reader. But rather, to illustrate the difference now that I’m out of the toxic soup of scented products:
Lily, my faithful, not-quite-a-puppy-anymore puppy, comes with me to work twice a week. Every lunch we stroll around the building grounds so she can chase chipmunks and splash in the stream. Every afternoon we come in and she lays down on her blanket, and I’m inundated with the scent of wet, muddy puppy.

Would you believe me if I told you that it’s heaven? I love the smell of wet dog. I love knowing that Lily’s supposed to smell like that when wet, that my nose works, and that there are scents out there that don’t cause head pain. She smells like nature to me. Ditto for open windows, sweaty clothes, cooking food. They’re just smells. They might be strong, but it’s the way things are supposed to work. You should give up your fragranced products and try it some time. The whole world smells sweeter now.
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©2011 at Simple Savvy, the simple living blog where I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Lily HATES the camera. I had to scruffle her and snuggle her after that first picture.

Great post!
“I love knowing that… there are scents out there that don’t cause head pain.”
Yep, there are only a few natural scents that get my migraines going, but almost every artificial scent I encounter triggers head pain, disorientation, nausea or the avalanche that is sound and light sensitivity. I wish so hard for less fragrances in everyday life. I’ve got my house pretty free of them, but outside my door, it’s like a minefield.
Scents I savor: sleepy puppy, browning onions and garlic, and 15 minutes into a good rain
Thanks for the sweet compliment! Outside is definitely a minefield. I find other people’s houses to be the trickiest with all the scented hand soap everyone has going on. That stuff clings. And it’s not exactly typical to ask if they have a better smelling soap or if they would hide their air fresheners. Although I have, on occasion, moved scented candles outside when no one was looking.
This post really hit home for me. I don’t have migraines, but artificial smells often trigger my allergies and make me generally queasy. My husband has sensitive skin and scents in dryer sheets and even many mild soaps can cause problems for both of us. I often ask for all-natural soaps as gifts and you’d be surprised by the number of people that don’t realize that the scent is included in the all-natural category. I hate to reject a gift, but if the “natural” soap I’m given smells like Yankee Candle, I can’t use it.
I feel like a lot of people thing “all-natural” soap is bar soap — period. You don’t see too many people who use bar soap in their homes, so I think the thought of bar soap means natural to some people. Kind of the way baking brownies from a box means “made from scratch” to people who normally buy them from a bakery. Does that make sense?
Scents. O my what a can of worms. I like to walk in the mornings, but the dryers sheets in a load of clothes in a dryer that is vented outside is just too strong and triggers an asthma type attack. I, too, don’t do artificial things especially body products as I not only have a hard time breathing but I start to itch.
Oh my goodness, dryer vents! I find it disturbing to walk around outside and smell someone else’s laundry scent on what is supposed to be fresh air. Lily and I try to breeze past the vents, but the smell will follow you if you walk through a cloud of it. I can totally see how it would trigger an asthma attack.
I’ve definitely become far more artificial fragrance-free (more like severely reduced artificial fragrances), but not because of any migraine issue (sorry about yours). Mostly because I really enjoy natural scents so much more … and once you get off the artificial smelling stuff, you definitely notice it so much more when you do get a whiff. Give me fresh fruit or most flower scents any day – or some freshly mowed grass – yumm!
Do you find it difficult to convince people that they’ll enjoy natural scents once they go off the artificial ones? No one seems to believe me on that front. And on a different note, freshly mown grass is one of the scents that is borderline migraine triggery for me. I often tell Mr. Savvy that when we own a house, it will be in the middle of a giant, unmown field. He just laughs.