Men of the Cloth

Who is it that decided exactly what "Fresh Cotton" smells like?

I imagine a group of scientists at the preliminary stages of their research, sitting around a room with a cornucopia of cotton products; specifically with 'fresh' cotton right off the plant. They spend hours upon hours in that room sniffing that cotton, eyes closed, all other senses disengaged, letting that smell be absorbed through every pore into every cell in their bodies.

Then they go into the lab and mix up a bunch of chemicals and sniff that too, until they believe they have it matched. One of them will think they have it, and he'll call over the other guys and have them check it out. Then they'll argue. "No, no, no," one of them will say. "That's not 'Fresh Cotton', that's 'Mountain Breeze'. Not even close."

Soon someone will come up with a scent that's close, but they won't be able to agree on whether they should keep searching. They'll stand around the Erlenmeyer flask, freshly removed from the hotplate (using HotHands or tongs of course- these are professionals and they know that old mantra "Hot glass looks like cool glass" all too well), and debate the qualities of the odor which wafts around them. "I think it's perfect." "I like it, I'd like my clothes to smell like this, but to call it 'Fresh Cotton'... it's too earthy." "I think it's a bit sweet." "Well, personally I think it stinks." "It's just a little too flat, too... oh, I don't know. Too uninteresting, uptight." "Gentlemen, I'm hungry." "Me too." "Shall we take a vote?" "I still think it's perfect."

They will end up compromising on this scent, and agree that it can be released upon society as "Clean Linen". Then they will take an extended lunch break, possibly have a midday cocktail or two, and a few hours later reconvene and continue their quest in capturing that which is so close, yet so far away.

It must be done properly. It must be done thoroughly. It must be done with precise attention to detail. It is, after all, the fabric of our lives.