“Who spends £40 on a candle?” I… I was once like you.
Sometimes there are certain things that are just not in our world. Things which our unconscious mind automatically omits when it comes across them: car adverts when you’re not a driver, life insurance leaflets when you’re young, cabs home when you’re most people, probably meat when you’re vegetarian and posh candles when you don’t live in a Chelsea townhouse.
That was about to change. Last year a good friend gave me a small Diptyque Feu de Bois candle as a thank you after a stay with us. He may have had some help with this gift, I‘m not entirely convinced either of us knew what he was giving, but we both recognised it was not of our world.
When it comes to candles, whatever flavour I smell and however seemingly fancy, it somehow always still ends up whiffing of ‘scented candle smell masked by *enter flavour here*’. Not these. Not Diptyque. This was the real deal. One of my favourite ever smells is that of bonfire night; the rich smoke which penetrates your hair and new season coat signalling the beginning of darker evenings and red wine drinking. Translated as ‘firewood’, this was the smell of burning wood smoke mixed with a crisp freshness which I can only compare with, now, bear with me… When I was a small child I enjoyed sticking my head into the freezer compartments in supermarkets. I don’t know what the hell chemicals were in that cold air-con but I couldn’t get enough of it. Anyway, that. So I put this tiny thing in our non-working fireplace, lit it, closed my eyes and let it fill the room. WINTER WAS HERE. And I was hooked.
How could I get this smell all the time? I wanted it surrounding me always. Did they do a perfume version? No, but they did a room spray… *looks to camera*. NO. Too weird. I absolutely could not wear a firewood room spray as a perfume.
Reader, I’m still deliberating. I’ve had struggles finding an affordable new non-sickly/unisex perfume and if people can go around smelling like a Catholic church, then I can bloody well smell like a bonfire.
Either way, my almost-finished small version shall be replaced in one form or another, because it has now become that strange thing: an argued essential luxury. Damn people and their great gifts.
Available from that dedicated bit in Liberty you always pass by. And also online:
Diptyque Feu de Bois