The Candle Problem
I want to be precise about the timeline here, because I think it matters. The candle first appeared approximately six weeks ago.
The candle has returned.
I want to be precise about the timeline here, because I think it matters. The candle first appeared approximately six weeks ago. Gerald brought it home in a small paper bag from a store I’ve clocked as the place he goes when he needs to feel like he is improving the home in some way. He set it on the coffee table, lit it, and stood back with the satisfied expression of a man who has just made an excellent decision.
The label said “Vanilla Birch.” I know this because I examined the label extensively after he left the room. I examined it and then I sat back and considered what kind of person names a smell “Vanilla Birch” and whether Gerald understands what he has invited into this house.
Let me explain something about scent that humans seem fundamentally unable to grasp. Scent is information. Scent is memory. Scent is the entire story of a room, a day, a life — compressed into something invisible and immediate. When I walk into the living room, I know who has been here, what they ate, how long they stayed, what mood they were in, and whether anything interesting happened while I was away. I know all of this without trying. It is simply available to me.
The candle eliminates all of that.
When “Vanilla Birch” is burning — and I cannot stress enough that this is not a real smell, this is a smell that a human invented in a laboratory and bottled and sold to other humans as though it represents something that exists in nature — I know nothing. The room becomes an information void. I walk in and I get: artificial vanilla. Artificial wood. A faint chemical undertone that the label would very much like me not to notice. That is all. The story of the room is gone.
I raised this concern last week by deploying my own scent in a targeted and strategic way. I want to be clear that this was not — as Gerald suggested to the guests — an accident. It was a considered response. I produced my most powerful natural aroma, released it into the immediate vicinity of the candle, and waited to observe the results.
The results were illuminating.
The guests left the room. All of them. Within approximately forty seconds, I had the entire living room to myself. The television. The good couch. The throw blanket that Gerald tries to keep folded on the armchair but which I have long understood to be a communal resource. I arranged myself with considerable comfort and watched thirty minutes of programming without anyone sitting next to me and commenting on what was happening on screen.
Gerald, from the kitchen doorway, said, “Buddy, what is wrong with you?”
Nothing is wrong with me, Gerald. I am in perfect health. I smell exactly as I should smell. You are the one who introduced a fictional forest into our living room via a small wax cylinder, and I am the one restoring balance to the ecosystem. These are different things.
He opened a window. I considered this a partial victory.
But the candle is back tonight. He must have bought a new one while I was at Dapper Doodle — I was there yesterday for a bath, which I will say was excellent. They use a shampoo that smells like clean water and something I can only describe as “correct.” I come home smelling like myself, the best version of myself, and I walk in the door and immediately Gerald has lit the Vanilla Birch situation again.
I am not going to escalate tonight. I am choosing strategy over immediate action. I am going to sit here, in the teal glow of the television, and I am going to be patient. I am going to let Gerald believe he has won this round. I am going to wait until he has guests over on Friday, and then I am going to deploy countermeasures with the full dramatic effect that a larger audience provides.
He thinks “Vanilla Birch” is the dominant scent in this home.
He has not seen what I can do.
Dapper Dan is the resident observer and self-appointed household analyst at an undisclosed address in Springfield, Missouri. He is groomed regularly at Dapper Doodle Grooming and believes the quality of his coat speaks for itself. Gerald remains unaware of this diary.Follow along: @417DapperDoodle · #DapperDan · #DapperDoodle
