We have a winner! Thanks to the power of the random integer generator and your marvelous creativity, we have a winner in our Smells Like Chris Evans Or The Hotness of Your Choice candle giveaway!
The winner is: Nicollette, who hopes the candle smells like, “… Joe Carroll from The Following and I talking in a warm room while its raining outside. I know he is a serial killer and all, but for this fantasy it works…LOL.”
Congrats, and thank you everyone for a very delightful comment thread!
There’s a mythical story of a certain kind of Yankee Candle that rumor has it smells like Chris Evans looks. Not, like, clean-shaven Captain America Chris Evans, but between-movies-scruffy-beard-lumberjack-with-a-plaid-shirt-adorable-meatball-Chris Evans. You know the one.
This candle is called Mountain Lodge, and we know our job here at the Hot Pink Palace of Bitchery. We had to investigate this claim. Basically, if there’s a candle out there that smells like “Richard Armitage got you another blanket and is now spooning you” than we needed to find it and investigate the claims and report back. YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS. I NEED YOU TO KNOW THE TRUTH.
So I hopped on a bus, then on a train, and trotted down to the only Yankee Candle store on public transit in Boston. This store? In the heart of tourist central, in the Historic Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market area.
I BRAVED TOURISTS FOR YOU PEOPLE. LOTS OF TOURISTS.
Now, the original post’s instructions told you to go to the Man Town section.
Thankfully, this is over and done with- Mountain Lodge is now in the less sexist and weirdly named “Fresh” section.
SUCCESS.
I was thrilled that the store had it, because my other option was to order off the internet, and that does not make for as good a story as BRAVING TOURISTS AND RETURNING HOME TO THE PINK PALACE VICTORIOUS IN BATTLE. AMONG TOURISTS. AND SCHOOL GROUPS.
It DOES smell like Lumberjack Chris Evans.
It DOES.
It smells like you’re snuggled up in front of a fire with Hugh Jackman and you’re both reading good books and read passages to each other while sipping some really fantastic scotch.
It smells like Jason Statham is chopping wood for you.
It smells like Chiwetel Ejiofor is reciting Shakespeare to you.
It smells like you’re shivering under your covers, and Tom Hardy went to nuke the rice bag and tucks it by your feet so you can dig your frozen toes into it, and then cuddles you until you’re warm again and then you have 9 hours of perfect sleep and wake up fresh-faced and dewey-cheeked and without bed head and then Tom brings you a mug of fresh coffee that he doctored just the way you like it.
All at the same time.
That’s what it smells like.
So I brought it home, and gloated to my roommate (Girl!Roommate, not Dude!Roommate) that I had hunted and gathered and returned victorious and she then smelled the candle and declared like it smelled like Old Spice and cheap incense and she has no sense of delight in the world and is also wrong.
Now, we are not going to sit on this bounty by ourselves. No, no, we have a giveaway.
We have a 12 pack of Mountain Lodge tea lights to send to one of you!
All you need to do is leave a comment and tell us what you wish the Mountain Lodge candle to smell like in your home. Colin Firth in a cravat, bringing you breakfast? Anna Kendrick and Rebel Wilson singing to you while they cook eggs? Ji Chang-wook protecting you from all the bad guys while also bringing you a hot coffee? Jason Momoa doing pretty much whatever? Share yours!
Standard disclaimers apply: Standard disclaimers apply: we’re not being compensated for this giveaway, except for the part where it smells really good in here. Void where prohibited. Open to international residents were permitted by applicable law. Must be over 18 and prepared for olfactory glory to win. Your mileage may vary. You can in fact possibly smell what the Rock is cooking. Winners will be chosen at random on Friday 26 June 2015 and will be announced same day.
Good luck, and breathe deeply!
I honestly want it to smell like my husband back from a photo shoot in the woods to interrupt my fantasy of Idris Elba.
Imagining this scent: Me at a beach bonfire drinking margaritas with special guests Tom Jones, Daniel Craig, Simon Baker, Ladd Drummond (and Ree because I love her too), and my husband – because he thinks I would throw him under the bus for any of these handsome guys, but I wouldn’t. 🙂
Vin Diesel reading Jane Austen. (The Jane Austen Book Club had Marc Blucas doing just that, but I think it would be even better with Vin Diesel.)
Jamie Fraser – after he has just rushed in from a long ride except that he stopped to bath right before he ran in but mixed with a little bit of Chris Pratt in a plaid shirt smiling at me.
Smells of…Nicolaj Coster-Waldau, having just brought me takeout from my favorite Thai place, proceeds to read The Saint (Tiffany Reisz) aloud to me.
I believe it would smell like cuddling with Mark Ruffalo on one side and Robert Downey Jr on the other, while RDJ makes us all laugh with stories of his misspent youth and Colin Firth makes us tea.
Also, sidenote: I think there is a Yankee Candle in the CambridgeSide Galleria as well. Less touristy so there is not as much of a SWEET DEAR GOD IF I HAVE TO STOP FOR ONE MORE PICTURE vibe (but also less of a fun story).
George Clooney and I are sitting on the porch of a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains having a cocktail after touring the Biltmore. (He patiently listened while I nattered about life during the Golden Age.) Our cocker spaniels are frolicking in the yard.
@Elissa, according to the Yankee Candle store locator, there is not. Which is weird, since I thought all malls were contractually obligated to have one, but apparently no.
It would smell like drinking Scotch with James Mcavoy as he reads me poetry in his gorgeous Scottish accent while Gordon Ramsay cooks dinner and sometimes he and James share favorite swears.
It smells like Chris Evans and I snuggling together in front of a wood-burning fire on a snowy night while we take turns reading “Cosmos” to each other and sipping from the same enormous mug of boozy hot chocolate. Stanley Tucci and Gillian Anderson are in the kitchen nearby, drinking fine Scotch and experimenting with baked goods, which they occasionally bring out of so we can all try a bite. “It’s wonderful, Stan!” I exclaim, after a particularly good piece of gingerbread. “Is that cardamom?” “You really like it?” Stanley says bashfully. Gillian swirls her drink around in its glass and smiles fondly at him. “I told him it would turn out perfectly.” “You’re the best kitchen guy I know, Tooch!”, Chris adds, stealing the rest of the gingerbread. “Oh, here’s another ‘billons’ in the text!” “Two shots!” we all chorus.
Is that the candle that smells like watching Gerard Butler lifting heavy things while Chris Hemsworth brings me a unicorn?
I need this in my life to Make my house smell less of changing the baby and taking care of the kids, and more of Gerard Butler and Hemsworth and unicorns.
It would definitely smell like David Tennant as the Doctor coming to whisk me off on adventure in time and space so I no longer have to study for the bar exam. Or if that isn’t possible, it would smell like David Tennant reading me my bar review materials while we drink tea together.
I think it smells like Idris Elba knitting me a sweater while he smiles ruefully about his mistakes, as Chris Hemsworth makes grilled meat and fire baked potatoes for dinner, and Chris Evans lets me snuggle my feet into his lap while he sings snippets of songs and plays the guitar.
Brooks Laich after a day of pond hockey (postshower of course)
Surely it smells like Benedict Cumberbatch is reading me a story and telling me I’m pretty, while Tom Hiddleston is pretending to be Loki for my kids. The next day, Peter Dinklage is reading me Skin Game by Jim Butcher and also telling me I’m pretty, and again, it smells like that candle.
This candle smells like Tom Hardy cooking dinner after a long day saving and cuddling puppies while Natalie Dormer reads me Pablo Neruda poetry in Spanish (does she speak Spanish? I don’t know but she will in this candle dream) in our perfectly heated and hgtv decorated cabin surrounded by the fluffy snow that is only possible in old movies or paintings.
It’s a large mountain cabin because it has many rooms. One room has Mark Harmon doing manly things like carpentry. Another has Tom Hiddleston reading poetry, Still another has Alan Rickman telling stories. In the garden, Viggo Mortensen is waiting to take me on a romantic walk. Rob Lowe is in there somewhere, too. Oh, my, which room to visit first?
I want it to smell like the bromance between Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie in and out of their Avengers costumes.
It would smell like being curled up on a sofa with a bunch of pillows in a cabin in front of a crackling fire as fall leaves drift down outside the windows, knitting in my hand. Chris Evans would come in wearing a cable-knit sweater (made by me, of course, this Chris Evans would always be knit worthy), carrying cloth bags with a fresh baguette peeking out from one of them.
“Oh hey,” he’d say, “I was just at the Farmer’s Market and I brought back apple-cider donuts for you. Oh, and you got a call from the wool mill that the fleece I got you for your birthday was all done processing, so I picked up the yarn.”
“Aww, thank you, honey,” I’d say.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” he’d say with a sheepish, little-boy smile, stepping out onto the porch. When he came back in he’d be holding two tabby kittens, both mewing softly and rubbing up against his beard.
“The animal rescue was at the Farmer’s Market, and these two were the last of their litter, and I just couldn’t leave them looking so sad in their cage…”
I’d laugh at him because he’s such a sucker for cute animals, and then we’d cuddle in front of the fire with kittens and donuts and tea, and…
….Sorry, what was I writing again? Oh, how the candle smells. Yeah, something like that.
@Elanor “Man, I wish Evans was here,” Nick sighs at one point, staring forlornly at a Dorito.
Holy shit, I just lost it. Literally laughing so hard I’m crying over here.
I like the thought of it smelling like cuddling up with Chris Pratt and John Krasinski while we watch Colin Firth movies.
Jensen Ackles after he’s been on a trail ride, coming in after stabling the horse.
Like little minions doing my biding on a cold Wintery day….okay okay…Stuart the minion.
Oh, oh yes, yes, please!
Inspired by the same tumblr mythology, I went hunting but not gathering on Thursday…turns out Mountain Lodge isn’t sold in the UK. DAMN YOU, YANKEE CANDLE. So, would be v keen to get my hands on these!
In my head, this smells like the first time we see Strider in Fellowship of the Ring. Or the moment Aragorn throws open the doors in Two Towers. Or waking up with Caleb Black from Elizabeth Lowell’s Only series, in the autumn, when it isn’t properly cold yet, but it’s still chilly enough that you burrow into his arms for just a little longer, and all he does is grumble/chuckle at you, and rearrange the blankets so you’re completely covered and tuck your feet between his. Or visiting the Po Lin Monastery with Aaron Kwok and then hiking around Lantau island afterwards, where he carries your rucksack so you don’t get too tired.
I could go on…
I’m hoping the Mountain Lodge candle really smells like between-movies-scruffy-beard-lumberjack-with-a-plaid-shirt-adorable-meatball-Chris Evans, because this would be a perfect gift for my mum. She loves, loves, LOVES Chris Evans. I mean, she has two Captain America Pop Funkos after all! And so much other Chris Evans memorabilia, like a Captain America mouse pad and Captain America Lego man.
You had me at “smells like Chris Evans looks”. A candle that smells like Chris Evans, that’s what I want…
It will smell like Chris Evans tucking our kids into bed and singing Pooh’s Corner to them as our daughter reaches up and pets her daddy’s soft beard. I watch and listen from the doorway. After they’re asleep, were downstairs and Chris starts a fire for us, then we snuggle on the couch and cheers a couple beers together.
It smells like a cool rainy day, one of the slow ones where you don’t need to do much, I’m curled up in a blnket fort covered with fairy lights and strewn with pillows and warm blankets as Gerard Butler and Idris Elda read good omens to me and tom hardy makes me a gin fizz. (I may need to watch rocknrolla again)
It would totally smell like Ian Bohen starting a fire to make hot chocolate while it rains outside. The we’ll probably cuddle under a down comforter.
Fairly certain this smells like a young Harrison Ford rubbing my back by a campfire in a (miraculously bug free!) foreign jungle somewhere, before we settle in to sleep beneath the (bug free!) stars…
I got through this past winter shoveling snow every two days by imagining Steve Rogers arriving to lend a hand. That’s my kind of superhero. So, Mountain Lodge must smell like the fire he laid (hur) in the fireplace during a winter snowstorm.
Which now that I think about it, Mountain Lodge, could that be how Charles’ and Anna’s house in Montana smells like?
I need it to smell like Cocoon era Brian Dennehy sprawled on my sofa rubbing my feet while he watches a Bears’ game, and I read the latest Julie James at the other end of the sofa. And there’s chocolate. Because, chocolate.
It’s snowing outside, but Chris Hemsworth chopped plenty of wood (pun?) the day before so we’re snuggled in a bed strewn with cats and dogs while munching on breakfast. (OK, and maybe Alan Rickman is reading aloud to us from the other room–to afford us some privacy.) The mood is only slightly marred by the incessant jealous phone calls from Chris Evans, Hideo Muraoka, and Richard E. Grant. Er, jealous of me not CH, to clarify.
Yes, the candle smells exactly like that: CH in a warm bed with all the accoutrements. OK, gotta go burn a candle now, or something.
It smells like Fantasticks-era Jerry Orbach singing (admittedly anachronistic) Stephen Sondheim songs in my living room while Neal Gaiman makes tea. Then he reads his stories to me when Jerry needs a break.
I feel like this requires an illustration of Fantasticks-era Jerry Orbach: http://www.newyorksocialdiary.com/guest-diary/2015/liz-smith-the-fantasticks-goes-on-and-on
A secluded wood cabin with strawberries and my hot husband (yeah, call me mushy)
Colin Firth tending the fire in the fireplace.
i’m going with gerard butler nuking the rice bag and then cudding me to sleep. there is almost a sleepy puppy snuggling up to my feet.
It smells like waking up in a cabin on a mountainside to fresh coffee and Chris Pratt making breakfast. As I pour myself a cup he smiles and points out the window to a moose that just wandered up to the porch.
Chris Hemsworth massaging me with essential oils.
My dad…I miss him.