Me, make my very own scented candles? Well, I did try, honest

One of the nicest gifts I got for Christmas was a home-made, soy-wax scented candle in an antique china teacup and saucer.

My sister-in-law had made them herself, to give to people when she came home from the USA for Christmas.

Mine came in a pretty matching china cup and saucer decorated with daffodils. It was so pretty and delicately scented that I couldn’t bring myself to light it for weeks.

“You should try making them yourself,” she advised. “They work out much cheaper and nicer than the commercial candles you buy.”

“Mmmmff,” I said neutrally.

Now, my sister-in-law is one of those people who defy certain laws of the universe – the kind of laws, for example, that maintain that you can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear, because believe me, she could, and not a bother on her.

She sews her own dresses, frames photographs, creates pebble art, knits scarves, shawls, hats, gloves, socks and complicated sweaters and blankets, and makes scented candles in teacups and crafts felted pot-holders and cute little gnomes for Christmas.

I am not like this.

“Try it, really,” she said encouragingly. “You’d be great! You’d enjoy doing it.”

"Mmmmff”, I repeated.

Thinking to myself, not a chance.

To get me started, she provided me with a packet of long candle-wicks and a round container of stuff that fixes the wicks onto the bottom of the candle jar so they don’t slip around in the hot wax.

How was I going to respond to such kindness and enthusiasm?

“Oh, OK, sure I’ll definitely give it a go,” I said hollowly.

Not a notion of it, girl.

Because, while I have my own strong points (don’t we all) this is me; the person who couldn’t wrap a parcel nicely to save her own life, or make a straight plait in someone’s hair. The person who hemmed the same increasingly sad and grubby bottom of an apron through the whole of first year of secondary school domestic science classes and into second year and Inter Cert (my classmates had quickly moved on to making their own dresses).

The Domestic Science nun and I parted ways, with immense, mutual relief, at the end of Inter Cert, and in fifth year I did biology instead. Biology was a thousand times more interesting, much easier, and less stressful. I am not good with my hands.

Some weeks after Christmas, as the wicks and the sticky stuff lay quietly forgotten on a shelf, my husband ordered 20kg of soy wax and a metal melting jug with special attachments for holding the wicks in place.

As I gaped in horror, he said he thought it was a great idea for us to make our own scented candles. Us meaning me, of course.

Word got around that homemade scented candles were in the pipeline. The next time I saw my mother-in-law, she said she was keeping her now-empty Christmas china teacup candle and her empty candle jars so that I could fill them for her when I started making all those lovely scented candles she’d heard I was making. I gaped at her.

My parents came to lunch and admired the elegant little daffodil teacup-and-saucer candle on the table.

My husband explained that his sister had made it. He added proudly that I would soon be making my own. My father mentioned that he’d be very interested in trying out the candle-making equipment. I gaped.

Later, I had a look at the stack of boxes I’d stuffed into a corner of the spare bedroom.

One held wicks and the thing my sister-in-law gave me for sticking the bottom of the wick onto the bottom of the container you’re pouring the candle into.

Another box held a large, strange metal pouring jug with some complicated parts clanking around the bottom of it.

A third held a huge plastic sack full of something that looked like cheese parings.

No instructions?

No instructions, and no scent.

Ah, I thought.

Scent. This would be the easiest bit.

I dug out some old bottles of essential oils from the back of the bathroom shelf.

The easiest part of candle-making, I figured, would be tipping in the scent.

But I was wrong.

It’s not.

It’s quite possibly the most complicated bit.

In fact, it appears that making candles is actually quite tricky, which is why most sensible people go to the shop and buy scented candles made by experienced professionals.

YouTube was not really that reassuring.

I had thought all I had to do was heat up this melting jug thing and pour in a bit of smelly oil, and then stick the wicks in the bottom of the jars and pour the melted wax into a selection of old candle containers and pretty antique china teacups.

And Bob’s your uncle.

Not according to YouTube.

First, there’s a whole debate on the use of essential oils versus fragrance oils.

Essential oils which come from different parts of plants, and which are usually extracted from the plant using steam distillation are, it seems, very sensitive to temperature and they can degrade in terms of heat and things can go wrong.

So, if you don’t get it right, your candles won’t have a nice scent or they’ll smell wrong.

Also, if you really want to use essential oils, it’s recommended that you don’t use a single straight-forward scent like lavender; you’re advised to blend a number of different scents yourself. In a special blender.

I Googled again. Simplicity and speed being my priority, obviously.

Idiot-proof candle-makers like me are advised to use fragrance oils, which are man-made with a variety of ingredients and perform well in terms of candle-making.

I sighed. Now I had to go and figure out how to find high-quality fragrance oils for candle-makers.

Then, you know, I had a thought.

Before I go messing around with strange metal melting jugs and their bizarre accoutrements, and start trying to work out how much soy wax goes into one candle, I feel I really should take the time to explore and carefully assess the different fragrance oil producers on the market, in order to find the most ethically sourced and highest quality essences available.

These would possibly have to be ordered from halfway across the world before I could do a single thing! By which time it will quite possibly be early summer, and who needs candles then?

This could take quite a while.

I felt much better.