Whenever I come home from seeing my friend Anna, which isn’t all that often as she’s typically living in Sweden or Spain, I come back and have found new ways to I emulate her. She’s fashion-forward and Swedish, so I get a lot of my Scandi-fix from her. We can communicate in IKEA-ese, no problem, and there aren’t too many people who know their BENNOs from their BILLYs and completely understand my interest in weighing the pros and cons of what are, in the end, cheap bookcases. The perfume I wear most often is the same as one she wears, and I bought it both because I like it and because it reminds me of her. I consulted her a while ago about my dark corners above my built-in bookcases problem, which we solved with a KNUBBIG. We spent a lot of time in Barcelona talking about clothes and wandering H&M and Zara, Anna giving me tips on the newest and the best.
I’ve done a lot of shopping since I’ve returned. But this time around, the main takeaway was the power of candles.
I have this clear memory of arriving super early at the Göteborg train station when I was visiting her five years ago – something like 6 a.m. The station was quiet and I was early, so I stopped in for a latte and a cinnamon roll (they are everywhere in Sweden). All along the bar where you order, there were tealights lit. In the windows facing out to the main station terminal, there were small candles in shallow bowls of sand. In every other way, it was a typical train station cafe, indistinguishable from any other. I remember thinking “This is it. These little touches are what define Swedish style.”
It’s dark around here. Really dark. Sunset tonight is at 4:47 p.m., and I rarely leave work before 5:30 or 6. It’s nothing compared to winter in Sweden, but I’m inside during the fleeting light of day, so it feels similar. Dark. Closed in. A little heavy.
And so I’ve been lighting tealights in the windows almost every night. I got this simple 6 slot glass tealight holder for Christmas a few years ago, and then I found almost identical versions, both 4 and 6 slots, a few months ago at Ross. I love their simplicity. I love that I don’t have to watch them as closely as tapers (although the holder next to the [real] tree is taking a little hiatus). I love how they flicker and how the windows reflect the light back into the room. Cozy. Mysig. One of the highest compliments a Swede can give you.
Following her lead, I’ve even started lighting candles during the day. I don’t have her IKEA scent combination concoction down quite yet (apparently it’s common knowledge that certain kinda funky IKEA candles smell good in conjunction…) but I’ve been lighting one good-smelling candle along with my tealights when I’m home on weekends. Why reserve candlelight for special occasions or romantic rendezvous? Maybe I’m not quite Swedish, because I have to admit that I still feel like candles make things feel special. I’ve just decided that special can happen every day.
Are winters dark where you live? How do you cope? Candles? Tea? Gobbling down mass quantities of Vitamin D?
I like writing, photography, reading, music, design, typography, paper products, days in the seventies and sparkly snow, Spanish wine and cans of PBR. I spent a year in Córdoba, Spain, working as a 
So I’m one of those people who lights the candle and then hovers over it — fretting about whether or not the apartment will suddenly catch fire or maybe I’m wasting the candle because I’m not really enjoying it as much as I should be…? I clearly need to channel my inner-Swede!
Ha ha. Tapers make me nervous, but tealights (in holders) seem relatively stress-free. And I figure that IKEA tealights are less than 4 cents apiece – small price to pay for some mysig specialness. Take the leap! Channel your inner Swede! 🙂