Le Labo Laurier 62 Classic Candle

My first thought back in mid-October when I saw Le Labo announce a new candle on Instagram was, 'At last!'. Not because I was anywhere near being done with exploring the rest of their candle range, but because Camelia who runs their London boutique, had mentioned "a new candle coming very soon" the two previous times I'd been into the boutique to buy first, the Figue 15 candle and then, the Cedre 11 candle, and had pointed both times to an empty plinth on their candle display where the "new candle" would go. Tantalising, indeed. 


So when the news went out on Instagram that this candle had 62 ingredients and smelled "like a mess", I got excited: what does a mess smell like? My imagination started throwing out rock 'n' roll suggestiveness: The Stones' Black and Blue album; Alex Chilton's disastrous Like Flies On Sherbet album; The Replacements' All Shook Down; Lou Reed's Berlin; John Cale's Music For a New Society; Neil Young's On The Beach - all those great, scuffed, luminous because-they-were-created-on-a-knife-edge albums. Well, anyway, that's just me and I got it in my head that Laurier 62 was going to be the candle equivalent of that pile of albums. 


I bought the candle on Halloween. I'd been waiting for the right moment. When the urge to self-treat with a Le Labo candle comes along, it's like a bell that starts ringing that tells you everything's lined up for a new beautiful candle, beautifully packaged and with a label message that sets my intention for as long as the candle lasts. 

What I mean is that I like to use the 'For ....' part of the Le Labo label (which is essentially a gift label) to have a one or two word intention that will be in place for as long as the candle lasts. I like lighting a candle with purpose. I don't believe in mindlessly sparking up a candle. I believe a candle flame is a living light. And I like relating that 'aliveness' to an intention printed on the candle label: it's meditative and cumulative in effect every time I light the candle. Until I know what the intention is going to be, I don't go and buy a new candle. That's what I mean about things needing to line up. 


So after much anticipation and darkness finally drawing in, I lit this new Laurier 62 candle and well, as it turns out, it's actually quite simple. Not "a mess" at all. Nor a "total mess" (as they called it on a box in the window of the London boutique). I think Le Labo threw so much at it, that the end effect is quite simple. It's like a whole orchestra being present, instruments in hand and then letting the lone violinist solo. That's this candle when you light it: those 62 ingredients are all there, but in the end, it's like you're just hearing the lone violinist play her lovely Wintry solo. 

When I say Wintry, I mean it's their most seasonally specific candle after Figue 15 which is just so damn summery and gorgeous. This candle's much darker, very Wintry: conjuring up a mood board of fir cones, fireplace smells, chestnuts being roasted, a walk in the woods, a bowl of mulled wine. In its spiciness, it feels festive. And even though, in the end, there's nothing of those albums in the candle, it smells pretty good if you burn it while cranking out Black And Blue.   


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