Originally published by The Clifton Courier, February 23, 2022

I bloody love a scented candle. 

Now, I feel like scented candles get a bad wrap for being basic, in the same way having too many cushions or artfully-draped-throw-rugs are deemed basic. 

And you know what? These things are basic.

Cushions and blankets provide comfort and warmth, which are pretty fundamental needs for most beings, particular the human kind who crave tenderness and don’t have thick enough fur to insulate themselves from the cold. 

Scented candles smell good. And good smells are… good, you know?

Like what’s the alterative? Does anyone want to be sitting in a stink cloud? Does anyone enjoy being in a musty house, inhaling faint odours of rotting fruit, old sweat and hot dairy? 

Of course not. 

I think not wanting to experience the discomfort for a yucky smell is a pretty basic human desire. And I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. 

But, let’s be honest, some scented candles are better than others. Some of the smells are great, but others are overpowering, unpleasant or just downright weird. 

And there’s only a few basic food groups of scented candles, like the florals, the herbals, the sweets and the suavely savouries. And they’re supposed to appease everyone. 

I’d like to see scents embedded into wax that fit my specific needs, such as:

The Christmas Smell: There’s be a lot of people who think The Christmas Smell smells like cinnamon and gingerbread and things roasting on the fire. But not to me. And that’s not to say those people are dirty stinkin’ liars, but it’s just that it’s not really THE Christmas Smell, but THEIR Christmas Smell. Because The Christmas Smell is subjective. When I say “it smells like Christmas” the scent that’s tickling my nostrils smells very earthy, but not damp. Kind of like dry peanut shells that have been rained on and then left out in the sun. And that’s not because Christmas Day at my house involves us getting sacks of dirt or spreading out mulch (I’m not saying we’re poor gardeners, but I think anyone who has been to the Maguire House would know we’re not… avid gardeners). My version of The Christmas Smell more smells like a time of year rather than one specific day. And I’m not sure what exactly it is about that pointy end of the year that creates the smell – maybe it’s a certain tree blooming, maybe it’s someone harvesting, maybe that’s actually my true body odour and I can only smell around Christmas because that’s when it gets hot enough for my sweat to overpower my deodorant – but it’s such a good smell.

Phonebook/newsprint: I do love that I love the smell of news print, given I’m an old newspaper woman from way back. It makes me feel like one of them authentic traditionalists in a world of digital natives on these newfangled devices who just don’t get it. But mostly, I like that newsprint smells… academic – it’s a smell that borders on old books but doesn’t quite tick over to musty. It’s like crisp dirt mixed with ink or something. 

Sheets just taken off the clothesline: This is a clean smell you just can’t replicate with a clothes dryer. There’s something about cotton being blasted by the sun that smells not only clean and sanitary but also wholesome, you know? Like, you’re letting Mother Nature sterilise your sheets and neutralise your dank musk that seeps into the weaves of the fabric as you sleep. 

Jasmine: I know that candle companies make floral scents all the time, but I have yet to come across one that smells exactly like that time of year when all the jasmine flowers bloom. It’s a smell that smacks you in the face, but in a good way. 

The washing powder Grandma used to use: Every now and then I cop a whiff of someone’s laundry and it makes me think of my grandmother. I’m not sure what detergent she used to use and she’s not around to ask anymore, so I can never manufacture this smell. I just have to enjoy it when I encounter it. When I smell it, I remind myself it’s just someone’s laundry, but there is definitely a voice in my head rehashing all the dumb things I’ve done recently that Grandma could be trying to tell me off about by conjuring her smell to send me messages from beyond the grave.