Why Your Home Smells “Old” After 60 — 10 Things My Japanese Mother Did Instead

📖 Get Emiko's Cleaning Book, the whole house written down, every mix and every minute: LINK IN BIO OR SCAN QR CODE ON THE VIDEO Tomorrow morning, carry your pillow to the window and turn the case over to the side your face slept on. That pale yellow shadow is where the smell of an old house begins. You clean every week, you burn a candle and spray the couch, and still the smell meets you at the door. My dear, it is not the age of your house, and it is not your age. In my mother's house in Japan, the floors were older than she was, and the house never once smelled old. Here are the ten small habits I keep at sixty-three, and not one of them is a bottle. WHAT AN OLD-HOUSE SMELL IS: Oil that has grown old. Every day your house takes in a little oil, from the frying pan and from your skin, and fresh oil smells of almost nothing. Left in the air and the light for weeks, it takes in oxygen and turns stale, holds every grain of dust, and sinks into soft things where no cloth reaches. A young smell leaves with warm water and a drop of soap. An old one has moved in. THE TEN: 1. THE PILLOWCASE. Twice a week, Wednesday and Sunday. For the yellow shadow, rub in 1 teaspoon sesquicarbonate with a few drops of water, or soak in 1 tablespoon sesquicarbonate per quart of warm water (Card 27, page 108). 2. THE TOPS OF THE CABINETS AND THE FRIDGE. Plain paper on top, changed on the first of the month. Wipe the old coat with Card 1 (1 teaspoon sesquicarbonate in 2 cups warm water) while the kitchen is still warm. Leave the stove fan on 10 minutes after cooking. 3. THE HEADREST AND THE ARMS OF THE COUCH. A cotton cloth where your head goes, a hand towel on each arm, washed with the pillowcases. 4. THE CARPET. Once a month, baking soda through a flour sifter, left overnight, vacuumed slowly in lanes (Card 30, page 111). 5. THE DRAINS NOBODY USES. Every Sunday, run each quiet tap for half a minute and pour a quart of water down the floor drain. A dry pipe lets the sewer air in (page 171). 6. THE SWEATERS PUT AWAY. Wash or air before storage, fold into a clean cotton bag. NEVER mothballs in an open closet or drawer (page 335). 7. THE PAPER. Books standing, never in cardboard on a concrete floor. Catalogs out the day they arrive. 8. THE FURNACE FILTER. A new one on the first day of each season, the date in pencil on its edge. Vacuum the vents before the first cold night (page 453). 9. THE TRASH CAN ITSELF. Squeeze the water out of your scraps. Once a month, wash the can with Card 1 or Card 5, dry it in the sun, a little baking soda in the bottom (Card 38, page 121). 10. YOUR OWN NOSE. Once a week, walk around the block for fifteen minutes and smell your house at the door, the way a guest does. Clean where it is strongest. THE HONEST PART: An earthy, wet-basement smell is damp, not oil. NEVER mothballs where a child or a dog can find them, and never in the kitchen trash; take them to your town's hazardous waste day. A rotten-egg smell means you leave the house and call the gas company from outside. Years of smoke live in the walls and need washing or paint. A ten-year-old pillow or a pet-soaked carpet pad may simply need to be replaced. WHY NOBODY TOLD YOU: Linen spray 7 dollars, carpet powder 6, mothballs 5, cabinet degreaser 8, drain deodorizer 9, trash can discs 11, a plug-in with refills 24. Seventy dollars, every few months. Against it: a box of baking soda, a jar of sesquicarbonate, water, and a few cotton cloths. Tonight: take the case off your pillow, look at it under the lamp, and smell the pillow underneath. Then tell me in the comments one word, pillow or case, which smelled stronger, and how old your house is. Not one of them goes unread.