I don’t know how it happened, and I’m not even sure where it started. Sometime earlier this year, something nudged me into buying my first candle — and then another, and another. My family home has never been a candle house and my parents hate strong scents that they claim smell “artificial”. The only candles we’ve bought were for Christmas, maybe 5 or 6 years ago, and they still lie stored away in a dark, musty cupboard somewhere, wax barely three-quarters melted. No one has felt the slightest urge to bring them out again, let alone light them.
Yet somehow this year, scented candles have provided me a joy I cannot explain. I’ve discovered my love of the warm, bright flame that rises above the slightly melted wax, lighting up its surroundings in a calm and sleepy hue. The perfect ambiance to a book, a comfort show or a knitting project I’ve set aside for way too long. Even while I’m studying, I feel a little bit more productive and seem to do more work when there’s a candle by my side. The tiny wick, sputtering to life as it catches flame, feels magical, diffusing the scent slowly through the room as if it’s breathing. Those moments when I can close my door, tune out the outside world, clear my desk and light a candle are the times where I finally feel calm. For those few hours there isn’t school, work, relationships, future, grades, friendships, enemies and troubles. It’s just me and my candle.
Even now in my room I have one candle that I’m currently burning and 5 left to open. I keep telling myself to stop buying them, to finish burning the ones that I have and leave the others for a rainy day. But I can’t help getting wrapped up in the scents, smelling the cold wax of candles with dreamy extravagant names that promise a night of tranquility. Candles with notes of fruit, floral, champagne, nature and happy memories. I have approximately 4 winter themed candles stocked up for the holidays, each of them carrying their own festive scent to spice up my winter break. I seriously contemplated buying a candle warmer before reality checking into probably making smarter financial decisions. I browsed the fancy candle brand home pages, trying to imagine what would convince someone to buy a $78, 6.5 ounce candle even though I know I could probably fall for it. You’re telling me this candle smells like jasmine flowers, this one smells like the “dense smoky scent of a crackling fire” and this one carries “a scent that speaks of the holidays – of spices and candied peel”? Sign me up.
I guess this is the start of the year where I embrace the 80 year old side of me. The side that loves knitting, crochet, reading, theatre, jigsaw puzzles, cats and candles. The hobbies that some would think are outdated, boring and archaic. Maybe I am a slightly unhinged crazy candle lady who gets emotionally attached to scented wax, but honestly? Candles carry memories. Each one holds a moment, a feeling, a season of my life. And if that makes me eccentric, cozy, or prematurely elderly, then so be it. Here’s to soft hobbies, quiet joys, and embracing the parts of ourselves that make absolutely no sense to anyone else—but feel like home to us.
On second thought, maybe I should reconsider another hobby. Maybe I should … Oh wait is that a pomegranate and orange scented candle over there?