Cedar Sutra, Tea House, Nag Champa: new candles

Hello. Allow me to introduce three new candles.

Cedar Sutra. There's something majestic about the smell of cedar. I feel like it opens up the top of my mind. Is that too mystical for us? It's not, like, anything that highfallutent [sic], it's more like a tiny square trap door on top of my head that's been held shut by one of those chintzy locks my sister's diary had on it in 1977 swings open and goes, oh! Oh! The world is big. And that's okay. This candle has all that earthy cedar majesty, balanced with the lushness of amber. Don't tell Grandma's Pipe that it might be my even-more-favoritest.

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.

Nag Champa. Your favorite incense is now a candle. Great for meditating or just relaxing, when you want that gorgeous scent to waft through your living space and make everything okay. With hints of frangipani, sandalwood, patchouli, juniper, jasmine and vanilla. It's earthy and woody with just the right balance of sweet. You know: that smell.