My mother made candles for a time. She did not have access to all the wonderful scents and colors available today. She largely focused on Christmas of course, and I loved watching her make all the different shapes and sizes of my favourite Christmas things. My obsession with candles started in her kitchen.

I still remember the first candle I ever bought. I was a poor college student and my cousin left me a surprise 20 dollar note on my desk. I was living with my aunt and uncle in their pool house which they affectionately named “The Shack.” To me, it was my “Shackteau”, and I decided I needed some grown-up ambience. It was fall, so a pumpkin candle was perfect. It wasn’t expensive, and it certainly wasn’t from a fancy boutique or an artisan fair. But to me, it felt like a small act of independence, a deliberate step toward creating a space that felt truly my own.

It was a simple pillar candle, wrapped in clear cellophane and tied with a thin gold ribbon. I bought it from a little shop downtown, the kind you wander into on a quiet afternoon just to browse, without really planning to buy anything. But the moment I picked it up, I knew it was coming home with me.

At the time, I didn’t know much about candles — the difference between soy wax and paraffin, the power of essential oils, or the art of properly trimming a wick. What I did know was the feeling that candle gave me: comfort, warmth, and possibility.

When I lit it for the first time, the soft glow instantly transformed the space. I realized then that a candle wasn’t just an object; it was an experience. It was permission to slow down, to breathe a little deeper, to be fully present. The scent is still in my memory and I can bring up visual images of studying and the new beginnings of a life away from home.

Looking back now, that first candle taught me something unexpectedly important: our surroundings matter. The little things we choose to surround ourselves with — the light, the scent, the warmth — can quietly change how we feel inside. It sparked a love for candles that has only deepened over the years, evolving into a passion for finding (and now making) scents that capture a moment or a mood.

Every candle I’ve bought since then carries a story, but the very first one? That was the beginning. The first spark. And I’m grateful for it still.