As if writing a new book wasn't enough, Erin and the team also put together 10 brand new candle scents!
We are so excited to introduce the Heirloom Rooms Candle Collection!
Heirloom Rooms is a beautiful book is meant to remind us that our homes are meant for living and appreciating the memories we've made and will continue to make in within our 4 walls.
It's appreciating the wonder in the ordinary.
The little everyday things that make up a beautiful life.
Each chapter of the book takes you through a room in a house - front porch to back porch.
And each chapter has a coinciding candle.
Explore the 10 brand new LMCo. candles crafted from Erin Napier's own scent memories and stories from her home.
"When our daughter Helen was born, our front porch became her first playground. Her nanny, Mimi, would lay quilts on the floor and set up a bouncer in front of our security camera so Ben and I could watch Helen from our phones on set as she bounced 178 times in a row, stopping only to examine a fire truck racing down our street, or to babble at the standard poodle and his owner who walk the block every morning at 10 a.m. No matter where we were during the work day, with our phones and a doorbell camera, we could teleport to Helen on that porch with her Mimi, eating her very first doughnut hole on the porch swing her daddy had built, cooing to the lawnmower quietly in the background, the breeze blowing the smell of the neighbor’s freshly cut grass right onto the front porch."
The entry sets the agenda of a home: it tells visitors what they can expect as they proceed farther in. In my home, it is a hill of size 14 boots piled near the shoe cabinet, not inside it, a thousand various pink backpacks stuffed with pocket change, fast-food toys, and ballet shoes that hang from hooks under the powdered noses of my grandmothers’ pearl-earringed portraits. The guts of the day’s delivery packages are stacked on the table that was intended to hold a neat tray of mail, proof of our finer nature, but here we are. The scent is citrus and peonies–and it is the smell of the fun people that live here and the daily treasures from the outside world they deemed valuable enough to bring home.
A living room ought to be where we do our living, unselfconsciously. In pants with elastic waistbands, snuggled into the furniture with a mug of hot tea while embers burn in the fireplace.
There is a small painting by my grandmother that hangs above the dining room entry. It’s buttermilk biscuits, steaming at the top, shiny with melted margarine, and it states the intention of the room. The dining room is both museum and café. It is where we conduct toddler art class with tempura paint; it’s also where we eat biscuits and cornbread hot from the cast iron skillet.
Our bedrooms are our private places, where we do our storing and burrowing. It’s the cedar blanket chest where we keep love letters and old photographs, the drawer where the socks and underwear live. It smells of wool and cedar, and it is the finish line of the day in my mind’s eye.
Our guest rooms change as our families do. They are the most flexible members of the house. Ours isn’t a guest room now; it belongs to Helen and Mae and their wild imaginations. It is where they can be anything, ballerinas, trapeze girls, musicians. Every once in a while, they will pause their performances for a moment to let their biggest fans sneak a hug and take in the smell of honey-crisp apples and sweet milk and nothing breath. Who they are right now, somewhere between baby and little girl, is imprinted in my memory forever.
I was in fifth grade when I found the delicious experience of bath form vs. bath function, and it became an offering of comfort as much as a way to come clean. With great reverence, I poured a ribbon of the pearlescent syrup under the rush of water and watched the white bubbles float to the surface, filling the room with eucalyptus aroma, and then I climbed into them.
When we moved into our Craftsman cottage, we were so young and so free from responsibilities after dinner, and the miles we walked around the neighborhood in the dark were the foundation of our early marriage. After walks, I would go to my desk, tired, but my mind was electric. I had so many thoughts and ideas for my work, I had to save them before sleep. I can still smell the oak teacher’s desk. It was my stage, and I performed in silence, until my thoughts and my inbox were empty.
Every afternoon when I come in from work, I prepare Ben’s coffee for tomorrow. I set a mug upside down on the top so he knows I was there when he finds it at 4:30 a.m. When I wake up, he has been up for a few hours and smells of coffee and cream, and it is the comfort of each morning.
We live on our back porch in the summertime. The sweltering Mississippi heat gives us no choice but to swim every day, be it in our backyard kiddie pool or Mal and Jim’s real one. I can smell the sunscreen and hear the shrieks of cousins playing in the sunshine. The days are long, and many end in a bubble bath outside before bedtime.
These aren't just scents, they're stories. Active memories inviting you to be present where you are and appreciate the place you call home.
These candles will be available for purchase online and in store at the Scent Library very soon! Make sure you're subscribed to our email newsletter and following us on Instagram so you don't miss any updates.
Don't forget to buy your copy of Heirloom Rooms to make the collection complete. Click here to buy this beautiful book.