Petrichor

Of all the “cores” our culture has whipped through in recent years (cottagecore, normcore) the one that never gets its due is petrichor. Sure, I know that petrichor isn’t technically an Insta-worthy aesthetic trend. It merely, if magically, describes the earthy scent produced when rain falls on soil—but given the recent deluge, I think it qualifies.

As a Gen Xer, I came of age when cores only came in two flavors—hard and soft—and everyone but Eddie Rabbit treated it as either a wet leper (remember the blacktop chant “Rain, rain, go away…?”) or as a biblical panacea a la Taxi Driver’s DeNiro proselytizing that “Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.” (well, Bob, we’re still waiting). 

Even The Beatles had an opinion (“…might as well be dead…”) and Charlie Chaplin who said “I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying,” which makes me just wanna slap him. But no one ever mentions loamy post-rain aroma in song, verse, or the twee musings of …