Meet Phil: The Tastiest Name I've Ever Met. When I met my husband Philip, I had mixed feelings - he was a wonderful person, but his name just didn't sit right with me. It's like biting into a crunchy green pear, the texture and flavor of which I simply can't stand. But as a compromise, we settled on Phil, whose taste is far more palatable: sweet and soft, rather than crunchy and unpleasant.
As it turns out, my brain doesn't just see words or images - it also triggers actual taste sensations. This phenomenon, known as lexical-gustatory synaesthesia, affects only about 0.2% of the population. I've been experiencing this since childhood, when certain words or sounds would transport me to a world of flavors and textures.
For instance, Kevin's name still brings to mind an image of crispy bacon - a strange association that has stuck with me over the years. It wasn't until I stumbled upon an exhibition on synaesthesia at the Melbourne Museum, aged 28, that I realized my unique ability was not just a quirk, but a known phenomenon.
My brain plays tricks like this when it comes to names too. Bob tastes like a milk chocolate Easter egg on my tongue, while Adrian brings up a screeching sound of toilet cleaner - thankfully, one that doesn't linger. Some words are more pleasant than others; Chewings Street still has the flavor of stale gum in its wake, while fellow feels soft and pillowy, like marshmallows.
Finding communities with people who understand my synaesthesia has been incredibly helpful over the years. I've chatted to individuals with a range of conditions, from grapheme-colour to auditory-visual synaesthesia - but none that have ever shared my experience. Until now.
This journey into the world of synaesthesia has led me down some fascinating paths and left many questions unanswered. What other aspects of my brain are linked to this unique ability? My sensitivity to smell, perhaps?
The mystery remains - for now - as I continue on this deliciously winding road, discovering new names that bring up flavors and textures beyond my wildest dreams. And who knows? Maybe someday I'll find someone else with a tasty name - one that will make our conversation truly unforgettable.
As it turns out, my brain doesn't just see words or images - it also triggers actual taste sensations. This phenomenon, known as lexical-gustatory synaesthesia, affects only about 0.2% of the population. I've been experiencing this since childhood, when certain words or sounds would transport me to a world of flavors and textures.
For instance, Kevin's name still brings to mind an image of crispy bacon - a strange association that has stuck with me over the years. It wasn't until I stumbled upon an exhibition on synaesthesia at the Melbourne Museum, aged 28, that I realized my unique ability was not just a quirk, but a known phenomenon.
My brain plays tricks like this when it comes to names too. Bob tastes like a milk chocolate Easter egg on my tongue, while Adrian brings up a screeching sound of toilet cleaner - thankfully, one that doesn't linger. Some words are more pleasant than others; Chewings Street still has the flavor of stale gum in its wake, while fellow feels soft and pillowy, like marshmallows.
Finding communities with people who understand my synaesthesia has been incredibly helpful over the years. I've chatted to individuals with a range of conditions, from grapheme-colour to auditory-visual synaesthesia - but none that have ever shared my experience. Until now.
This journey into the world of synaesthesia has led me down some fascinating paths and left many questions unanswered. What other aspects of my brain are linked to this unique ability? My sensitivity to smell, perhaps?
The mystery remains - for now - as I continue on this deliciously winding road, discovering new names that bring up flavors and textures beyond my wildest dreams. And who knows? Maybe someday I'll find someone else with a tasty name - one that will make our conversation truly unforgettable.