What in the world is a sniff kiss?

For their alleged social, cultural, and political progressiveness, Gen Z is profoundly squeamish about sex and intimacy. They’re on track to earn the title of “the prudish generation,” a significant step down from the Xennial title of “Oregon Trail generation.” Critics bemoan their aversion to sex in film and television. Old fogies applaud them for leaping in fear at the sight of their own erections. But neither party offers a solution for Gen Z’s self-imposed Victorian conundrum: eschewing forms of sexual intimacy potentially trades one set of problems for another.

Behold the great equalizer: the sniff kiss. Walk right up to the object of your adoration, nose first, lips closed; bring your face close to their cheek, neck, or hair; and take a good whiff of their scent. Congratulations! You have not only registered the other party’s body odor, you’ve also expressed fondness, all without dispersing your germs, as well as any lingering crumbs from your afternoon snack, across their face. In Thailand, this act is called “hŏm,” pronounced “haam,” translating to “fragrant” when used as an adjective and “to sniff kiss” when used as a verb. In Vietnam, it’s “hôn hơi.”

In both countries, the sniff kiss broadly conveys tenderness rather than sexual desire between parties, and therefore isn’t a perfect solution to the problem of zoomer chastity. Think of sniff kissing as an Asian variation on la bise in French culture or kunik in Inuit cultures: a sanitized method of expressing affection to a friend or family member, and yes, a lover, too. But the average person has more of the former than the latter—no matter how open-minded and love-forward their social mores may be—and so it’s more typical that sniff kisses are performed by adults upon, for instance, their children (and other people’s children, for that matter). Be they Vietnamese mothers or Thai grandfathers, the sniff kiss is the go-to way to say “I love you” to the littles.

The reverse, however, isn’t true. Children don’t sniff kiss anyone they aren’t related to, because stranger danger remains a possibility even in cultures where it isn’t a faux pas to coo over someone else’s kiddo. That’s wisdom. Just as we in the United States warn our kids about talking to strangers, it makes sense that Thai and Vietnamese children would be wary about sniff kissing random folks on the street. There are, after all, good occasional reasons for reservation. But intimacy—platonic or romantic—isn’t the time or place for withholding emotion, and that’s what makes the sniff kiss so inviting to give, as well as to receive—especially if you’re into aromatics.

Think about the last time you got to hold a newborn and luxuriate in their smell. It’s a wonderful experience (credit the vernix caseosa). Now think about the last time you got swallowed up in the crowd while taking public transportation, which is significantly less pleasant, because growing up means waging endless war against our bodies’ capacity for malodorous sins. We stink. Maybe sniff kissing loses appeal through an American lens. It’s true that an estimated 66 percent of Americans shower daily, but compared to Vietnamese or Thai people, we’re grubs; bathing more than once a day is the norm for them, owing to their countries’ tropical climates. (In case you didn’t know: Southeast Asia is hot.) In that context the sniff kiss functions as a pseudo hygiene check with an indulgent streak. If more people than not wash their bodies off that many times a day in Thailand and Vietnam, odds are that whoever you sniff kiss, they’re going to smell fresh.

As much as knowing by scent what cosmetic products your loved ones use, that’s a secondary privilege of sniff kissing rather than the main benefit. Still, it plays into the overarching effect sniff kisses might have on people who indulge in them: an increased comfort level with intimacy. We commonly, and erroneously, associate the word with sex and arousal, but of course intimacy refers to such emotions as trust and security, and the state of vulnerability; if these are important factors for a healthy sex life, they nonetheless comprise their own experience, unique from sex, and that’s where the sniff kiss functions as baby steps for people who, like many Gen Zers, appear struck by an aversion not only to sex but intimacy’s myriad connotations. One is not deficient for lacking a high sex drive, or for preferring other forms of partner intimacy to sex, but it seems that the new Puritanism is driving Gen Z away from the sensations the sniff kiss is meant for acknowledging, too: affection, adoration, tenderness.

In the west, we’re so accustomed to communicating those feelings in words, spoken or written, that understanding how smelling someone can fulfill the same role requires an adjustment in perspective. But a sniff kiss isn’t just about the sniff. It’s about proximity, being welcomed into your loved ones’ personal space, and ultimately, the kind of comfort we find only with the people we know best. So be bold. Challenge yourself. Next time you spend time with, say, your parents, your siblings, your favorite aunt, or your best friend, show them love not by puckering up, but by inhaling their bouquet. You might end up appreciating those relationships with newfound closeness.