By Sue Murphy
Last Tuesday, I grabbed my purse and ran to the car. There was no time to lose. Harold’s candles were back in stock.
Now, you might not think of Harold as a candle type of guy and you’d be right, except that, given the right scent, he feels he can defend the perimeter of his man cave from an unprovoked attack by air.
Harold wants his retreat to smell, well, manly, not like the locker room after a Steelers game, just something that does not scream “tulips in springtime.” After testing candles labeled “Fresh Mown Grass,” “Tooled Leather” and several that had to do with adult beverages, Harold made his selection. Summer, winter, spring and fall, he wants his space to smell like a roaring fire.
The problem is, candle sales are seasonal. In the spring, you find only scents that are light and flowery. Come summer, everything is beachy, “Sand Dollar” and “Hawaiian Sunset.”
After the Fourth of July, you can buy fall and harvest scents like apple and pumpkin. There is Apple Pie and Apple Strudel, Pumpkin Pie and Pumpkin Cupcake, although in real life I’d be hard pressed to smell the difference. If you want to be fancy, you can get your pumpkin with caramel overtones and your apple scent pressed into cider, with or without a whiff of cinnamon stick. There are candles labeled “Fireside” but only paired with marshmallows, which, according to Harold, are simply an abomination.
Of course, what candle purveyors are really selling is ambiance. Scent is a powerful trigger, able to mentally transport you back to Thanksgiving breakfast on Grandma’s farm (Pumpkin Pecan Waffle) or a walk in the woods with your long-lost dog (Fallen Leaves). People don’t buy candles called “South Shades Crest Roadwork” or “Shelby County Gas Leak” because, A) Those are not good memories, and B) You’re already there.
I suspect that Harold is harkening back to the days when we had a functioning fireplace, conveniently forgetting all the work that was involved – toting the logs, shoveling out the hearth, stomping out the sparks that flew onto the carpet. If you deleted the memory of setting our deck on fire with a bag of prematurely discarded ashes, I suppose “Roaring Fire” could be a comforting smell.
It is also a strong one. “Roaring Fire” wafting up from the man cave counteracts the air upstairs, where I burn candles in sync with the season. As you might guess, I am a conscientious sync-er (read: obsessive). I feel pressured to burn up my “Bahama Breeze” before Labor Day and get the scent of pine out of the house by New Year’s Eve.
Lately, I’ve come across candles that include three scents layered in one jar, which, if you were a judicious burner, would certainly save wear and tear on the candleholders. Even more helpful would be a giant candle you could burn for the entire year. It could start with “Winter Snowfall,” move on to “Roses and Champagne” in February and “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” around Easter. “Sand in Your Toes” would begin on Memorial Day, pressing on to “Hot Apple Cider” in September, “Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin” in October, “Cranberry Cobbler” in November and ending with the grand finale of “Fresh Cut Pine” on Dec. 1.
Of course, I could save myself a lot of trouble and burn “Chocolate Kisses” all year long, but with my luck, I’d gain 15 pounds just breathing.
Oh well. Until I get my scent-ual ducks in a row, I’ll piggyback on Harold’s “Roaring Fire.” Maybe they offer a case discount…
