Cire

The Backstory

I’ve never considered myself a candle person.

My experience was mostly limited to Bath & Body Works, the occasional heavily discounted Jo Malone candle, and a candle warmer I enjoyed using. Candles were pleasant enough, but I never felt particularly compelled to explore them.

Then, during one of my usual browsing expeditions, I stumbled upon a candle subreddit.

Apparently, there was an entire universe I’d been ignoring. People passionately discussing fragrance throw, wax, vessels, burn performance, and brands I’d never heard of. It was a rabbit hole I hadn’t intended to enter, but I became curious about what a genuinely excellent candle could offer.

Trudon was one of the names that kept coming up.

The prices were also rather memorable. I wanted to explore the brand, but I wasn’t about to pay full price for an experiment in a hobby I didn’t even have.

Eventually, I managed to combine a discount code with a store promotion and arrived at a price I could almost convince myself was reasonable.

Choosing the fragrance was another matter. Abd El Kader, with its Moroccan mint tea character, seemed to be a cult favorite, but mint isn’t particularly my thing. I gravitate toward warmer, cozier fragrances, and the descriptions of Cire sounded much more appealing.

So Cire became my introduction to Trudon.

The Experience

I understand the enthusiasm.

The glass vessel is beautiful, and the fragrance is exceptional. Cire combines honey and beeswax with warm woods, cinnamon, tonka, patchouli, and vanilla.

To my nose, honey is the dominant character. It’s rich, sweet, and comforting, but never crude or excessively sugary. There’s a natural, refined quality to the fragrance that makes it feel distinctly expensive.

Which, considering the price, is the least it could do.

When burning, it creates a lovely cloud of fragrance throughout the room. The throw is satisfying without becoming overwhelming, and the overall experience feels beautifully executed.

I genuinely enjoy it.

The problem is that I don’t particularly enjoy watching it disappear.

Because Cire is so expensive, I find myself reluctant to light it. I realize how ridiculous that sounds. The entire purpose of a scented candle is to burn it, yet here I am treating each lighting like a financial decision.

And that’s where I find myself comparing it with Astier de Villatte’s Opéra incense.

Opéra has a similarly honeyed, beeswax-rich character, although the experience is obviously different. A box contains 125 sticks and costs $55. I can burn one whenever I want without feeling that I’m slowly consuming something precious.

As a result, I reach for the incense much more often.

I’ve since purchased another Trudon candle, Ernesto, which I also enjoy tremendously. So the brand has certainly impressed me. I’m just not convinced I’ve become someone who wants to spend this much money on candles regularly.

Which is probably fortunate, because I briefly considered buying a matching cloche, a candle snuffer, and an assortment of other accessories.

Apparently, simply owning the candle wasn’t enough. I was preparing to accessorize it.

Thankfully, I regained my senses before following through. I suspect this was only a temporary recovery.

Final Words

Judging Cire purely on its merits, it’s excellent.

The presentation is beautiful, the fragrance is sophisticated and comforting, and the performance delivers exactly the sort of experience I was hoping to discover when I started exploring higher-end candles.

But value matters, particularly when the price affects how freely I enjoy something.

At $155 for the classic size, Cire is an indulgence I’m hesitant to use as often as I’d like. That’s a meaningful drawback for a product whose entire purpose is to be enjoyed.

I’d happily repurchase it on sale. At a more approachable price, this could easily be a five-star product for me.

As it stands, four stars feels right.

I’m glad I explored this little corner of the fragrance world. I’ve developed a genuine appreciation for the craftsmanship, the variety, and the enthusiasm of people who collect and enjoy exceptional candles. It’s a fascinating hobby, and I have a great deal of respect for those who pursue it.

I’m also relieved I didn’t become one of them. I can already tell it would be a spectacularly expensive hobby.

For now, I’m perfectly happy admiring the candle world from the outside, enjoying the occasional beautiful candle without committing to an entire collection.

Although I haven’t completely forgotten about that cloche.

I fear this isn’t over.