Scentzilla!

Because I’ve yet to meet the dead horse I didn’t enjoy flogging, today’s review, like the two posts previous, will also be rated. However, I’ll spill my thoughts first to allow Ebert and Roeper (of At the Movies and the Chicago Sun-Times) time to prepare their thumbs for Esteban’s Teck and Tonka candle.

From back of the Teck & Tonka box:

“Souvenir of Africa, wooden houses full of spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove… just waiting to be shipped off to other continents. Teck & Tonka recreates this blend, one of the most delicious in the history of perfumes.”

That’s some big talk there. [And in a way, unfortunate, too. After reading "Africa," "ship," and "history," the gift of colonialism (it's one that keeps on giving!) accidentally cues up thought of other historical "cargo" just waiting to be shipped off to other continents. I mean, I get what they're saying, but uh, wow... semiotics, man.] The candle does smell delish, though.

Teck & Tonka reveals itself differently in the container than it does when lit. In the glass container, the smell is heavy, and seems more like a thick ambery oriental perfume than a candle fragrance. Then it burns. Mmmmmmm, it evolves into something cleaner but much more woody as the wax melts, with the spice dispersing into a gentle hum on the air. The eponymous tonka doesn’t stand out on its own as anything vanillic; rather, it adds a sweet warmth to the overall aroma.

It goes a bit further than I expected, really, because you only need to leave it lit for a wee bit to scent the room. I can burn it for just a half hour or so in the room, and three days later I’m still catching light rich whiffs. Tenacious little bugger. This candle is gonna take forever to use up.

Is it ridiculously spendy for a candle? Yes, yes it is. It is worth it? Yes, hell yes.

This is the sort of fragrance that a sophisiticate would describe as aphrodisiacal. I’m not sophisticated: It’s humpy. And it definitely sets a mood.

Roger Ebert:

Well this is a thumbs up for me. To describe this candle is to miss the nuances that make it tantalizing. The notes simply flow from the candle, as anecdotes will flow from one who has told them often and knows they work. Then we begin to understand its structure: A series of nights and dawns, descents and ascents. The aroma becomes a picaresque journey through a world where gods and goddesses still live, and across seas with vast blind fish in them. To tell you what happens along the way is pointless, especially as the journey never ends. It is a fantastical journey to a place that resembles no civilization that ever was, in heaven or on Earth. And it is a masterpiece. *

Richard Roeper:

The smell of short chunky candles in glass containers has surrounded my house. Now here’s where I’m supposed to say that I find it refreshing to see 30 hour candles. The raw truth is, I find this candle a little unsettling. If I want to see such plump candles, I’ll go to the 99 Cent Store, OK? I’ll walk down Michigan Avenue or go to Pier One. When we’re talking candles inside my living room, give me long skinny taper candles, please. If that makes me sound superficial, shallow and sexist — well yes, I’m a man. And I’ll have to point out that most of the candles that appear on billboards and in magazines and on TV commercials are just as skinny and good looking as me, TV’s Richard Roeper. Thumbs down, but not because it’s flaccid. My thumb remains a manly, erect thumb even when it’s down! And don’t forget good looking, too! **

Moving on… Statler and Waldorf review this entirely shambolic excuse for a post:

*Ebert’s review was complied and pieced together via quotes from his reviews on rogerebert.com, mostly from his Fellini reviews. I’m having some fun with him here, but in his defense, describing Fellini films without loudly cracking the metaphor whip is nigh on impossible. I only WISH I could verbalize, purple or otherwise, half so well as he. (Oh and while we’re mentioning Fellini, please watch La Strada especially, if you haven’t already. Zampanò!) See this, this, and this for pulled passages.

**For the most part, Roeper’s review satirically borrows from an editorial column he negatively wrote regarding Dove’s Real Beauty ad campaign last year. Yes, this is old news, but see above disclaimer regarding me and the dead horsies. Who knew the purpose of women’s beauty advertising was not to sell products to women at all, but to set up a pup tent in Richard Roeper’s pants? Not me, and I for one was glad to get edumacated.

Ebert and Roeper source images can be viewed here. Statler and Waldorf source sounds from here.