DW Home Woodsmoke Bourbon Candle

Today my candle obsession continues, as I light one Woodsmoke Bourbon (double wick no less) candle/ Burn time 56 hours, so quite the investment.

The Hype:

Dark amber notes of oak aged bourbon are spun gently with smoked vanilla bean, elements of hickory, and touches of birch wood enhanced with crushed black peppercorns, spicy nutmeg, and golden clove bud.

The word on the street:

This is one of my favourites and I will grab it whenever I find it... It smells like root beer when it’s not lit but when it is lit it smells like a fireplace with a sweet backdrop. It isn’t too boozy or sweet, the perfect amount of smoke scent in my opinion. It has an expensive feel...

My thoughts:

It's certainly a more glamorous looking jar than Classic Man. It has a very chocolatey push, and a creamy aura. The vanilla is certainly having a say and the room has a glow and a sense of calm all at once. I didn't get much pepper but there was certainly a woody afterglow and the nutmeg reminded me of Christmas markets.

I'm transported:

It could be the campfires. The mulled wine. The last day we'd see each other, although I didn't know that back then. Winters are tough sledding when you're heartbroken. Just send the presents anyway, take them. I can't take them back, they're all engraved. I can't cancel the weekend breakaway, the hotel was non-refundable.

The iPod, the purple cushion, your favourite cushion, other small stuff that I knew would make you smile. Because we knew each other, intensely. It was the best three months wasn't it?

The bourbon, the smell of nightcaps. The last one before the night bus home. Trapped behind the door, the two of us, penned in like two lovebirds. Our breaths spoke to the old fashioned cocktails, forgetting how many. How long had you planned this? We're opportunists. Sneaking a moment in that woodsmoke-filled, drab corner of the dancefloor.

Afterwards, I say goodbye to the group, it's time to walk you home. Green hotpants, wolf whistles from the construction guys working the roads at night. To your dorm, to your tiny bed. We roll a spliff, you light a candle. Hickory, pine, something else. It shouldn't have been this way, but thank God it worked out like this. Wake all your classmates with groans of ecstasy at 4am. I know it won't be the first time you have, although, maybe they do.

A short sleep, a walk to Camden station alone. Promises for next time. Why on earth didn't I come for the next time? It was the best night I'd ever had in Hoxton. Thank you.