很多人叫它白兰花。在四川话里，念作黄桷（jiao）兰。
A lot of people call it bai lan hua, white orchid. In Sichuan dialect it's huang jiao lan.
这是我小时候每个夏天，外婆都会从院子里的树上摘一朵，拿线串起，别在自己胸前的扣子上，走哪儿都带着那股味儿
Every summer when I was small, my grandma would pick one off the tree in the yard, thread it on a string, and pin it to the button on her chest. That smell went wherever she went.
家里有了车之后，就变成了90年代流行的“天然香挂”
Once the family got a car, it turned into the natural air freshener everyone hung up in the nineties.
小时候觉得它只能香三天。挂在衬衫扣子上，第一天浓得化不开，第二天开始变淡，第三天就蔫了，花瓣缩成皱巴巴的红色，边缘发褐，轻轻一碰就掉下来。
Back then I thought it only stayed fragrant for three days. Pinned to a shirt button, the first day it was so thick it wouldn't lift. The second day it started to thin. By the third it had wilted, the petals shrunk to a wrinkled red, browning at the edges, dropping off at the lightest touch.
以前，一到夏天，满街都是。
菜市场门口、天桥底下、老小区的铁门旁边，总有老婆婆蹲在那儿，面前摆个小竹篮，篮子里铺一层湿毛巾，毛巾上躺着白花花的一串一串。
白线穿好的，一块钱两朵
路过的人顺手买一串，挂在车里，或者别在包上。感觉全城的人身上都飘着同一个味道。
Summers used to fill the streets with it.
By the market gate, under the footbridge, beside the iron doors of the old housing blocks, there'd always be an old woman crouched there, a little bamboo basket in front of her, a damp towel laid inside, and on the towel, string after string of them, white and bright.
Threaded on white cotton, two for one yuan.
People passing by would grab a string, hang it in the car or pin it to a bag. It felt like the whole city carried the same smell.
外婆还会用它泡酒，白兰花泡在透明玻璃瓶里，酒变成淡淡的琥珀色，放在柜子最上层。
夏天被蚊子咬了，外婆就打开柜子，用手指蘸一点，涂在蚊子包上。
小时候觉得这是个灵药，比什么花露水都管用。
Grandma would also steep them in liquor. The white flowers sat in a clear glass jar, the liquor turning a pale amber, kept on the top shelf of the cabinet.
When a mosquito got you in summer, she'd open the cabinet, dab a little on her finger, and rub it on the bite.
As a kid I thought it was a miracle cure, better than any bottle of cooling floral water.
市面上很多黄桷兰味道的香水。
大部分都做得很“干净”、很“花香”
闻起来像被精心修饰过的白兰花。
但总觉得少了点什么
There are plenty of white champaca perfumes out there.
Most are done very "clean," very "floral,"
so they smell like a white champaca that's been carefully touched up.
Something always feels missing.
少了那个“臭臭的”灵魂。What's missing is that "stinky" soul.
那个闷闷的、带着青草被捂过的气息。
“他们把它变得太漂亮了。”
That close, heavy smell, like grass that's been left covered too long.
"They made it too pretty."
现在夏天再回去，卖黄桷兰的老婆婆越来越少了。
偶尔看到一个，蹲在菜市场门口，还是那个姿势，还是那个竹篮，篮子里还是白花花的一片。你还没走到跟前，味道先飘过来了。
Go back in summer now and there are fewer and fewer of those women selling champaca.
Once in a while you spot one, crouched by the market gate, same posture, same bamboo basket, the same patch of white inside. Before you even reach her, the smell reaches you first.
那一瞬间，什么都想起来了——夏天的风、湿漉漉的地面、外婆的大花围裙、胸前扣子上那朵花一整天都在散发的气味——包括那个“臭臭的”底味，也包括你小时候觉得“这个味道说不上来”的那种困惑。
但我们长大了。再也没被蚊子咬过一样，再也没有那个泡了白兰花的酒瓶等着打开。
In that second it all comes back. The summer wind, the wet ground, Grandma's big flowered apron, the smell of that flower on her button drifting all day long. Including that "stinky" base note. Including the confusion you felt as a kid, when you couldn't put the smell into words.
But we grew up. It's as if the mosquitoes stopped biting, and the jar of flower-steeped liquor is no longer there, waiting to be opened.
以前没觉得，后来才知道，这好像是一个很想保留的味道
闻不到的时候想不起来，闻到了才惊觉自己差点忘了。
I didn't think much of it back then. Only later did I realize it was a smell I badly wanted to keep.
You don't think of it when it's gone. You only catch how close you came to forgetting it the moment you smell it again.
她不完美，但它是真的会令我怀念。She isn't perfect. But she's the one I really do miss.
