Think of the plays you've been to in the last year – what did they smell like?

Did anything stir memories? According to writer and director Stef Smith, smell is as much a character in her new play as any of the three performers. The Silence of Bees, part of Behaviour, the Arches ongoing festival of live performance, is a site-specific work that unfolds among the fragranced wares on display at Lush in Glasgow's Sauchiehall Street. "We've joked, in rehearsals, about the effect smells have on people," says Smith, adding with a mischievous twinkle, "we don't want to be outshone by soap or upstaged by bath bombs!"

So why run that risk? She continues: "The play feels different when we do a run-through in Lush after we've been working in the basement of the Arches. The smell of the place is just so amazing. And, like the three women in the play, audiences are going to find that the smells trigger memories. Especially memories of people. Smells can make you think of your grandmother, your mother, or yourself at a certain time in your life." She harks back to her days as a part-time assistant in the Lush shop that now opens its doors to The Silence of the Bees. She's frequently seen customers stop in their tracks, inhale and then briefly lose themselves in a reverie. That process of personal connection is now a strand in the play.

It's another stored-up cluster of associations, however, that lies behind the title and the bee-keeping theme in the work. During 2008, Smith became aware of the plight of the honey-bee. "This was when the 'colony collapse' disaster was becoming public knowledge," she explains. "Since then, I've held that information in mind. I've researched more and I knew there was a story there, but it's only now that it's come together. Actually, I usually start with the characters and the politics come from them but with this show, the reverse happened. I heard about the bees and looked for a story. Then I discovered that 90% of bees are female and I thought 'what better way to get an all-female cast together?' So now I have three women, three generations of a family, who are linked together by bees."

She's not keen to say too much about the individual characters, or the narrative they share. Maybe because, like a fragrance with its layers of top notes and base notes, The Silence of Bees has been crafted on various levels. Smith relishes the idea of an audience sharing an experience, but carrying away their own particular version of events. "I think that for some people, it will be a family drama. For others, it'll be more about smell and memory. And others will see it being about bees, what they represent in our world, and what we're doing to them."

Smith cheerfully admits she knew nothing about bees or bee-keeping before 2008 when she became aware that "the bees were disappearing. Colonies were collapsing because of pesticides and our greed, really. We thought we were being savvy by putting pesticide in the seeds, rather than spraying it. But that intensified the effect on the bees. A third of all our food is pollenated by bees. If they die off, how do we sustain that?" She reckons, ruefully, that our concept of value is now so skewed as to be a danger to the environment, and to our own survival. More than once, the word "commodity" surfaces in our conversation and that word leads us on to talk about Roadkill, the award-winning play about sex-trafficking written by Smith, directed by Cora Bisset, and now shortlisted for an Olivier Award 2012 in the Outstanding Achievement in an Affiliate Theatre category. The affiliate theatre is Theatre Royal, Stratford East and the winners will be announced on Sunday, the day after The Silence of the Bees ends its run at Lush.

Smith is bemused at how, two years on from Roadkill's initial accolades and awards on the Edinburgh Fringe, including a Bank of Scotland Herald Angel, the play seems to have become an epithet that sums up her talent. "Of course it's great to be nominated," she says. "But actually, it feels as if it's happening to somebody else, not me. She's still caught up in all the noise that Roadkill is able to cause – because, sadly, the subject matter is still so relevant – and doesn't look as if it's going away any time soon. But me? I'm working away in the basement at the Arches, and quite rightly so. I'm only 25 and I'm still finding my voice. Maybe there won't be 'another Roadkill' and in four or six years time, I'll be too old to be a 'young, emerging writer'.

"Actually, when do I get to emerge, leave my chrysalis, and become a butterfly?"

Smith's laughter bubbles, because she's not dazzled by the glitz, and commonsense tells her that awards can be useful, and winning them can open doors. Meantime, final touches need to be put in place before Lush opens its doors for The Silence of the Bees.

"Everyone there has been so supportive," she says. "You get so used to people saying 'no' to what you have in mind – but Lush have said 'yes' all the way. And they've provided the wonderfully intoxicating smell, as well."

The Silence of the Bees runs at Lush (Sauchiehall Street) from Thursday to Saturday. Performance times and tickets from the Arches. www.thearches.co.uk