This is it. Your big chance. You've been saving that fancy candle for a special occasion, and this is it. If we're all going to be stuck at home, it may as well smell good. Here's what our editors are lighting up.
1 Hotel Kindling Candle
I stayed at 1 Hotel in New York this summer (you know, back in those glory days when we were allowed to leave the country) and was so taken with the signature scent of the lobby that I bought myself a Kindling candle to bring home. That's right: I paid money for hotel merch. But I just couldn't help it: it smells like a handsome man just cut down a Christmas tree for you—a delightful, bright-but-musky mix of tree moss, cedarwood and eucalyptus leaves, the signature scent leaves a lasting sensory experience that makes my living room feel like upscale accommodations... a good thing, because I'm probably not going anywhere else anytime soon. You can only get it from the hotel, but I'm sure they're hungry to make a buck these days, so why not call and ask if they'll pop one in the mail for you? If nothing else, you'll at least have talked to another human today.—Stacey McLachlan, executive editor
I am not a candle buyer. In fact, I developed a theorem that goes something like, "the nicer the candle, the less likely it will ever get used." But my wife, Amanda, is the exception to this theory—candles were meant to be burned in her world. As a result, she's developed quite a discerning sense of which candles are great and which ones aren't worth the match used to light them. The sweet spot between the pretension of Diptyque and the low-brow Yankee candle is Nest. They’re not cheap—$23 for even just a tiny votive, but they're beautifully packaged and they have transportive aromas like the new Amalfi Lemon and Mint—a scent we could all lose ourselves in for a moment or two right now.—Neal McLennan, Travel Editor
Due to a couple-year stint as a sales associate at Bath and Body Works, I’d call myself a very specific kind of candle expert. I sold my share of three-wick candles to tween girls and coupon moms, and, on Christmas Eve, to disorganized husbands shopping desperately. I look back on those years fondly (strangers getting angry with me for things beyond my control aside), but I have since grown tired of the sweeter scents. So I’m isolating myself with Paddywax’s tobacco and patchouli candle. It’s sweet, woodsy, a little masculine, and a lot relaxing. Plus, I think it will make an adorable little planter once used. How wonderful to lean back, breathe in, and know that no one will ever yell at me because "the store is giving them a headache" again.—Alyssa Hirose, contributing editor
White Barn Flower Shop
Ok so it’s not exactly fancy (I think it cost me all of $20) but I love this limited edition candle so much I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. It’s a tough time to live far away from family and the recent border closings have left me a little more homesick than usual. Back in North Carolina, my mom is a florist and I have fond memories of sitting with her and soaking in the smells of gardenias, roses, and hyacinths. This incredibly aptly named candle smells exactly like her shop. It’s wafting through my apartment right now, bringing the smell of Spring inside and making me feel a little closer to home.—Elia Essen, editorial intern
There was a time in my life when I first started working (oh, those sweet, sweet, grocery-store clerk days) that I used my newfound cash to purchase Aveda's Shampure, entirely because I adored the smell and I felt super fancy because all Aveda stores smelled like a spa. I used it, that is, until a hairdresser told me it was exactly the wrong thing for my type of hair and to stop it already. So when I visited my sister in Calgary last year and stepped into her ensuite in the morning, she'd lit a Shampure candle and I was flooded with nostalgic memories. This candle works like a hot-damn in terms of scent distribution—the space was warm and spa-like and I could have spent all day there if it was appropriate. And lucky me, my sister noted my joy and gave me one of these for my birthday this year. Bring on the soothing Shampure. —Anicka Quin, editorial director