No, not the bad smells that waft from my bathroom occasionally or from my son’s running socks – I’m talking about the pleasant smells of home-made soy candles laced with essential oils of every brand and variety known to woman.
I consider myself a soy candle connoisseur of sorts. I have been known to visit a market or five in my time and bravely go forth, seeking out new olfactory experiences to heighten my senses, bring me peace, relax my mind or perk me up when I need to concentrate on one thing at a time.
The better the ingredients, the better the experience. I’m pretty much hooked. I’ve tapped into the local market to get the best quick fix when I’m running low, I know the best sites to purchase the premium grade mix for long-term burns and I’m always searching for that new, elusive smell ‘high’ on the web.
My husband, while not a fan and could probably do without the aromatic barrage that assails his nostrils as soon as he walks through the front door, grins and bears it and even accompanies me to the markets when he is in a good mood. As long as there is an offering of food, a quick beer and no driving he is good for a return trip once a week if the timing suits and he is not away working.
My mother thinks I’m a pyromaniac. I don’t blame her. She still hasn’t gotten over me nearly burning my doll house down and blowing up the back shed a few years after that. She even bought me a set of battery-operated candles that flicker ‘like the real thing’ when you turn them on to save me a future insurance claim. But there’s nothing more mesmerising than a flickering flame or a scented candle or two to create a bit of ambience after the 6 o’clock freak show in the evenings.
I have different scents for different moments. My flavour of the week is a vanilla and ylang ylang combination that I am currently burning every evening on the bookshelf. It’s doing wonders for my head and getting rid of the doggy smells out of the lounge room.
My husband is definitely not a fan of some of my more decadent combinations any more, however, after I accused him, in a fit of pique, of hoarding that delicious chocolate cake that I couldn’t find anywhere when I arrived home late one evening. After I finished berating him about his weight he pointed out my latest acquisition, a chocolate-pudding-and-cream candle chugging away on the kitchen table. He had lit if for me so I would have a ‘smell’ to come home to.
While I had to give it an 11 out of 10 for authenticity, I only burn this baby when my husband is out of town for a while and the smell has been replaced by the time he walks in the door again.
Smells are very good at creating memories and sadly, the chocolate-pudding ambience is not one that I care to recreate any time in the near future.