if you’ve read any romance or fanfic in the past twenty years (i know you have), you know that there are a certain number of scents associated with hot dudes. you can probably recite the list of Things Men in Fic smell like in your sleep: leather, black pepper, pine, sandalwood, “something uniquely him”, clean sweat, and if the character has ever fucking been within 50 yards of a firearm,something called “cordite”.
here’s the thing.
NO ONE SMELLS LIKE CORDITE.
cordite was a highly specific type of smokeless gunpowder developed in the 1890s by england specifically and used mostly in wwi.
the point is, cordite is so far from universal that no one but the most hardcore gun nerds give a single shit about it. making your Sexy Hero smell like cordite is like naming a cassette-only bootleg live recording from the 1970s as your favorite grateful dead album. everyone at the party hates you immediately and knows you’re doing it for clout. also, it’s just factually… wrong. please stop. i know everyone else is doing it, but you can do the right thing here, i believe in you.
so what do people who are using guns smell like?
well if your story is set before the late 1880s, the smell of a fired gun is black powder, which, unfortunately, smells like seventeen flatulent cows have been shoved in a tire factory. trust me, you do not want your Hot Dude to smell like black powder. it’s b a d.
if your story is set after the late 1880s, guns are using some variety of modern ‘smokeless’ powder – which speaking broadly doesn’t really have a ton of scent when used. it does have some, but it’s sort of non-descript: the best way i can describe it is the sweet, ozone, hot-plate smell of popping your car hood with a warm engine.
people who use guns a lot don’t smell like fired guns all the time anyway, so while those scents might work in a fight scene, they’re not realistic all the time. but there are some things that your Sexy Shootist will smell like basically 24/7 and that’s metal and gun oil. metal you can go and sniff (i recommend non-stainless steel), but if you want a reference, most gun oils have a sharp, organic smell that’s not dissimilar to canola oil but muskier and with a tang overtop. it’s not unlikely leather is in the mix as well due to routine handling of leather equipment and gear. modern gear also tends to have a certain smell although it varies by production country and storage conditions – lots of opportunities there.
in conclusion: gunslingers and hired killers and military folks can be sexy and smell great on page, but i am begging you not to say “cordite” when you mean “gunpowder” ever again. we can do this. we are writers and therefore pedants. i believe in us!
this is a great post i’m so sorry i have to add one of my favourite low-fi indie songs to say that you might well be British or Irish and smell of cordite in the context of ww1 and hard labour:
🙂
this is a fuckin great addition and coincidentally if anyone knows any romance novels about working class irish or scottish folks forced to manufacture cordite for the british empire…. please do tell
@notasapleasure that is a very cool song but would you happen to have the lyrics on hand? I can’t seem to find them
hey buddy, yeah, they’re not even written out in the record sleeve afaik – here you go, transcribed by yours truly from the Les Cox version
I’m living over Scotchdyke By day I’m mixing up the cordite There’s lasses to the left of us and to the right
Drinking with the Irish navvies Fresh off the paddy line Belfast Fair City to Stranraer Through Dumfries and Muirside Towers
Well I hear there’s a war on In a country I don’t know I’m heading up Gretna Green I’m gonna get myself clean With a new job on the go
Seven for the day you know Through the Cotton Inn We’re in Carlisle, it’s six months later It’s five in the morning by the looks of it
Well I’m here, I’m on the road I’m waking up with snow in my eyes There’s three men lying nearby me Who are barely alive
The government-controlled bar Says he can’t shout a drink So wages have gone down the sink And round the riverbend this week
Ah, this isn’t funny When you got no drinks money No food money
Meanwhile Their majesties the King and Queen They’re on the scene
They’ll decide who lives and who thrives Who survives and how many Germans die
Well I couldn’t care less who wins the war…
actually your man doesn’t smell of cordite at all!
amhrancas 