 I think 19th century grandmothers were far more attractive and impressive than 20th century ones. They were yellowish and frail and infinitely more understanding and smelt vaguely of lavender water. Mine didn't. She had a voice like a foghorn and smelt dreadful. What of? Mothballs, principally, but there was something else as well. I can't quite describe it. Well, be a dear and don't try.