new candle: Tea House
This is a complex sophisticated smell, for a candle. My proof is that I have a friend who knows all sorts of details about perfumes and scents and she made a face I couldn't translate when she smelled this. And then she made that face for a long time. Then her eyebrows went up and I knew it was good.
Everyone should have a friend like her. Because of her I know I love the scent of oud, which I also know is not the same as loving the guys in Doctor Who who walk around holding one of their brains in their hands.
It — the candle — see, I remember what I was talking about — has the solid roasty tobacco-esque pinge of smell you love from black tea, with a bit of smokiness, then maybe there's some bergamot down the hall in a side room, and just the tiniest hint of jasmine that walked through a few hours ago. It's deep. It's dark. It's lovely. It's a smell I can see when I close my eyes.
secret. lentil. pencil. Don't tell my brother.
I tend to want to give you things. But as my brother politely reminds me every few years, apparently I'm supposed to be making money? Have you heard about this? Remind me to Google that. In the meantime I'm still going to tuck a Secret Lentil pencil into every order. Look for this picture on your cart page, and check the box if you want one.