I was trapped into buying it.
You guys, I can’t even burn it.
OK, so I was totally tricked into buying a $95 Frederic Malle candle at an event and I’m pretending right now that I’m mad about it because my Dad is probably reading. I’m outraged! What a WASTE of money! We are in a reCESSion!
But actually? It’s kind of my favorite purchase of all time and I’m recommending you buy it. Two
silver spoons thumbs up.
Here’s how it happened:
I went to a Frederic Malle meet-and-greet at a Scottsdale department store for a quick magazine interview, oh, a year ago. He’s basically this French maestro of perfume-making. His company, Editions De Parfums Frederic Malle, is a library of scents from all these brilliant perfumers. He serves as kind of an editor, working with the perfumers to let them explore all these different combos and raw ingredients and finally publishes the scents once they are perfect, uncompromised things of beauty and are ready to be sold under his elite label.
He, and every scent in his library, are all magic. Each one I smell makes me believe that my perfume-slut self could become a one-scent gal. Until I try the next one. They each have amazing stories and smell like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. And they are heartbreakingly expensive. I have two bottles (one was a present and one was panic) and I treat them like liquid gold, only using them for VIO (very important occasions). In case you’re wondering, I finally bought one in a rare form of NSM- the mental breakdown “I’m going to charge something expensive with reckless abandon” kind.
I will tell you more about the perfume another time because I am majorly digressing.
This guy hypnotized me. Doesn’t he look like a boss? He is boss.
SO I went to interview him and smell the perfumes, along with his new home scent line of delicious candles. He showed us these patented phone booth-looking scent chambers he has at Barneys that you spray your perfume in so you can smell it in it’s purest form before buying. He also suggested I try the celeb-favorite Carnal Flower perfume, a pure tuberose masterpiece that smells like a garden house full of broken flower stems and petals. I really wanted the perfume, but when I found out how crazy expensive I was I moved on to the candles.
So we were sniffing candles, we all had Champagne, talked about superchic French things and I tried to decide what to buy- there were no prices listed on anything. I couldn’t leave empty-handed because he was so awesome and I’d been there talking to him for a good hour. And I’m kind of a perfume-a-holic. I have a DEEP obsession with scents, I got it from my mom. (Question: Can you even think about creating scents if you don’t live in Paris? Where do you go to perfumer school? How can I enroll? How long does it take?)
So I decided to buy a candle, which I assumed would be in the $50-60 range. The event was celebrating his new candles, and my boyfriend and I collect Dayna Decker and other woodsy scents and pretend we’re so sophisticated and burn them while listening to the Zeppelin Air. His candles come in blown red glass vases? vessels? Whatever candles come in. They’re super heavy and so pretty and a perfect burnt red-orange color I freaking love.
I chose the Coffee Society scent, which is meant to embody the feeling you have after all your super cultured and worldly friends leave your monthly dinner party. You know, as you’re thinking about your intelligent convos, cleaning your fancy schmancy souffle dishes. Etc. It’s an “imprint of a near and happy past.” It smells sweet and deep and interesting and pretty, like you’re walking into the magical land of Narnia. After a party. If that’s possible.
I got to the checkout, and it was more than $100 with tax. I was kind of panicking, but totally had to buy something. It was a smaller party and everyone was buying stuff. I figured I’d just return it at a later time.
THEN? I returned to say goodbye and thank him. Before I could say a word, he (or a sales rep, can’t remember) reached in the bag, tore the plastic off the boxed candle and whipped it out of the box. Then, he Sharpie graffitied it. I was able to somehow get a word in to tell him I prefer he autograph the bottom instead of the side he was aiming for, but what else was I going to say, “DON’T SIGN THAT! I’M RETURNING IT.”?
So now I have this autographed, awesome-smelling $95 paperweight. I’m not going to burn it. I won’t even remove the paper top thing, I don’t want the wax to get all hairy and gross.