In praise of jasmine, the quintessential LA scent

If you’ve lived here long enough, you’ll know it. You’re out walking in springtime and suddenly your nose will twitch, like a dog getting a scent. It’s that smell!

Like an olfactory Sherlock Holmes, you begin to track it down, sniffing as you go. Where is it? Over here? Look around the corner… Yes there it is!

Jasmine. You plunge your nose into the mass of delicate white flowers and glossy green leaves and inhale the wonder. It’s heady, it’s sensual, it’s intoxicating. Thank you, universe.

Night-blooming Jasmine, Cestrum nocturnum

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Forest & Kim Starr, via Wikimedia Commons

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It’s a small gift that gives its scent generously, and then fades away, yet another reason to be appreciative of the imperfect paradise in which we live.

Yes, you may smell it while taking in the trash cans, or surrounded by vehicle fumes, but it can somehow transcend your surroundings and turn your life, for that one minute, into something majestic, even mystical.

For the botanically-curious amongst you, jasmine mostly originates from Asia, introduced to a happy American public in the mid 19th century. So no, it’s not strictly native to SoCal, and if that’s your thing….well, jasmine’s not for you.

(Although maybe there should be a carve-out for outsiders who bring something that homegrown can’t offer? Like jasmine. And Bird of Paradise. And a few others. OK, you add to the list).

Jasmine in full bloom.

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Jean Pawek/Cal Photos

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There are more than 200 species of jasmine, but in terms of that smell… well, here in L.A, it will most likely be one of two species. (I say likely because I’m sure there are jasmine fanatics out there ready to pounce. I assure you, I come in peace).

If you come upon a gorgeous scent during the day, it’s likely from Star Jasmine, Trachelospermum jasminoides, a fast growing vine that happily spreads across fences or trellises.

If you come upon an overwhelming fragrance at night, it’s probably from Night-blooming Jasmine, Cestrum nocturnum, an evergreen shrub.

Apparently they belong to two different plant families, but somehow each worked out how to put similarly enticing scents into the world, which makes us care not a whit about their genealogy.

While we are sad that jasmine’s star turn is slowly coming to an end, there are some who will be celebrating. Those who sneeze, cough, or blow their nose repeatedly at the very idea of jasmine. People so allergic that they’ve spent these past weeks hunched over in purgatory. We are very glad that you’ll finally be able to emerge from indoors.

We, however, are already wistfully smelling every jamine flower we can find to inhale that one last heavenly note of perfume. Yes, it will emerge again next spring ..... but it’s hard to say goodbye to something that has given so much pleasure. So jasmine — till next time.