Cinnamon M Of W.G Hand Poured

It's now minus one in the UK. The morning sun that belies the cold, bleeds through the Yew Trees that have all but unburdened themselves of their foliage. A single pink carnation still holds firm on my rose bush that barriers my BMW to the high street. It's as if it never got the message. Whilst in the grips of this cold snap, the candles are lit inside the house, and this one, simply called Cinnamon by the Makers Of W.G., is filling my hallway, rubbing its hands with the warm memories of Christmas.

The Hype

Warm cinnamon spice, crushed clove bud, and sweet toasted nutmeg highlighted by warm amber, rich cashmere, musk, white woods and moss. Bayberry and Vanilla.

The word on the street

My entire family and I were absolutely obsessed with this candle last Christmas.

My thoughts

The jar is a red-tinted hexadecagon with a subtle pink square label covering three of those. It has double wick and projects well. I don't know if I get rich cashmere, or what rich cashmere even smells like anymore. My dog wears cashmere. That now sticks of fox piss and whatever rich cashmere notes it came with, are long gone.

The cinnamon is of course present, like a doting mother and her son's nativity play. The father less so, checking his phone and doing some light hearted doomscrolling,

I've lit so many candles around the house now my home is starting to look like Ebenezer Scrooge's office. But I wanted to just light this one. I move it to my desk, but will need to wait until the afternoon for the sun to drip through the window and illuminate the red tint.

I'm out of coffee, the heating is off, the hangover is kicking now. I wonder if I have a small glass of wine that will offset the mind-throb. But that could be what all alcoholics say to justify having a drink before noon.

This candle is my only solace this morning. The vanilla hums and the nutmeg also sings along. I'm reminded of my wife's Plum jam. How we spent a whole week making it, and her patience shaving the nutmeg spice into the hot pan of sugary goop. Despite the kitchen being the coldest room in the house, due to its isolation from the rest of the building, it was filled with the warmth of a Floridian sunset that day.

Photo by Katja Rooke on Unsplash