Susan likes to keep candles around the apartment. At least five in each room.
Here are all the candles currently residing in our four-room apartment, which I gathered and displayed end-to-end. I took this photo while Susan was napping. She doesn’t like having candles rearranged for selfish reasons.
We own a candle simply named “Autumn” that is displayed prominently by the door. It’s the first thing a guest sees when they visit, in early May. We own a candle called “Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin.” If there was a Hanukkah-scented candle for sale in lieu of scentless menorahs, we’d have several of those laying around from mitzvahs past.
“Who cares?” you may say. “Light those seasonal candles in a few months when those scents are socially acceptable again.”
Or, even worse, some of you might argue there’s never a wrong time for a seasonal smell. Maybe you don’t mind the smell of Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin in June. Maybe you think the fragrance of Autumn is always welcomed, especially in July.
You people are the sort of monsters who will probably use Winter Citrus Wreath hand sanitizer on summer vacation. The type of enablers Susan doesn’t need in her life.
Now, I was raised by a woman who enjoys entertaining. A woman who hosts the shit out of a dinner party. Maria Crocetti (née Henne). Whose candle/ potpourri/ decorative rustic seasonal diorama game is on point.
Maria Crocetti visited this past Sunday, and I hastily scattered the out-of-season candles to the high shelves where the 4’11 woman wouldn’t see. Because to have an Autumn candle proudly near Maria Crocetti’s doorway would be like slapping her in the face.
With my mother’s spirit in mind, I’ve started lighting Susan’s out of season candles in secret. When Susan away tending to some serious matter, I light as many as out-of-seasons candles possible — and open the window. Because peppermint, mixed with autumn notes, flecked with Peach Bellini is severely nauseating.
I prefer scented candles that align with no season. The timeless smell Clean Linen, for example. The understated grace of Evening Mist.
Yesterday Susan introduced a new candle into the mix, Coconut Pudding. Which seems like something tropical and summer-esque.
If you’re not from New York, you may not know it’s been hovering around 45 degrees for the past two weeks and its rainy all the time. I don’t want to smell coconuts or pudding right now. I want to smell the listless malaise appropriate to the day.
I have to get smarter, if I want to get rid of these scented beasts. So I’ve listed three very smart ways to repurpose out-of-season candles.
1) Using Your Out Of Season Candle As A Source Of Light
Here’s a little-known secret, the Yankee Candle Company was started centuries ago, after Union soldiers needed sources of light during night raids. The first Yankee Candles were unscented, the only smell permeating from their wicks the stale odor of impending death via espionage.
Yankee Candles only moved toward aromatherapy after scented crayons were melted in place of wax during the Great Wax Shortage of Bunker Hill.
Why not use your out of season candles to combat the darkness during outages, or on the occasional erotic evening? (When the out-of-season odor starts to permeate through your living space, just mask the smell with any extra fish heads you may have laying around.)
2) Using Your Out Of Season Candle to Seal an Open Wound
Candles are best used to cauterize wounds. More than 90% of candles purchased since the early 1900s have been used to either close a wound, or produce a new one.
This started during World War I, as soldiers began using Yankee Candle wax to seal their wounds. Although, many injured soldiers chose death over suffering the smell of Summer Dream during those blustery nights bleeding out on the front.
3) Using Your Out Of Season Candle to Cook
We all know fire is hot. But what you may not know is that scented candles are technically sources of fire.
Why not use all your out-of-season candles to custom barbecue a small animal? A scented rotisserie may sound disgusting, but just think of all the wonderful fragrances cooked right into that hunk of meat. It’d be like eating a roasted boar that had died in a beautiful flowerbed, instead of dismembered in a slaughterhouse that probably smelled really boring.
Susan is coming home soon. I have to place the candles back where they were before, or she’ll give me hell. I’ll be updating the blog frequently over the next month with on the candle front. Wish me luck. And God Bless.by