I was reading a selection of Montaigne’s work extracted from The Complete Essays and stumbled upon the subject of Smell
The best characteristics we can hope for is to smell of nothing. The sweetness of the purest breath consists in nothing more excellent than to be without any offensive smell, as the breath of healthy children. That is why Plautus said
Mulier tum bene olet, ubi nihil olet.
A woman smells nice, when she of nothing smells.
And when people give off nice odours which are not their own we may rightly suspect them, and conclude that they use them to smother some natural stench. That is what gives rise to those adages of the encient poets which claim that a man who smells nice in fact stinks:
Rides nos, Coracine, nil olentes,
Malo quam bene olere, nil oleres.
You laugh at us Coracinus, because we emit no smell: I would rather smell of nothing than smell sweetly.
Posthume, non bene olet, qui bene semper olet.
A man who always smells nice, Posthumus, actually stinks.