In my 55+ years, I’ve never been great at anything, but, thanks to the unique artisanal blend of lifelong undiagnosed and untreated ADHD that Gen X embraces, I’ve been mediocre at many, many things. During the pandemic, my daughter had some high school friends who were doing candlemaking at home from upcycled “jars from under the sink,” asking if we had any they could use. I sent some along, supporting their efforts by purchasing a few, but when they needed more and I dipped into my collection of beach-found vintage cosmetic jars from the coastal landfill, I had an idea. What if I partnered with them to pour some candles into these unique beach-found vessels and sold them to some of my sea glass enthusiast followers on Instagram? This would support their home business, and what else was I doing with these old jars?
I added another idea: hiding a beach find in the bottom of each candle. This idea took off a bit in my little community, and soon I was busy hauling around and shipping beach-found cosmetic jars and candles. The first batch was 24 candles. Within months it was a few hundred a month, but the high school girls running the business got Covid at Christmas, when the demand was the highest. I made a decision to temporarily learn to pour the candles myself, at first to meet demand, but they moved on with their lives and suddenly I had all the gear and, with a bunch of YouTube and candle supply company videos on deck, was an accidental candlemaker. That was over five years ago. Since then I’ve made over 10,000 candles in hundreds of scents, including a monthly subscription candle I did for two years, custom and wholesale candle lines.
I think of candlemaking as a business, a science and an art. Farmer’s markets are a pain: why? Candles melt in the sun and keeping them cool is a pain in the ass. My advice is to try to sell candles in temperature-controlled conditions as much as possible, and this includes shipping candles to hot places when you have to think about ice packs.
As a science, candlemaking is fascinating—patience and precision; part kitchen, part lab. There’s so much to learn about when lighting a wick, melted wax travels upward, vaporizes, and reacts with oxygen to create that iconic steady flame. The balance between wax type, wick size, fragrance load, and container shape determines whether your candle burns cleanly, evenly, and safely. Temperature’s everything. If your wax is too hot when you add fragrance oil, the scent evaporates before it’s locked in. Too cool, and your candle may develop cracks or “frosting.”
Different waxes behave differently: soy wax burns slow and clean—great for natural candles; it’s what I use. Paraffin, used by big box candle retailers, holds scent well but they use it because it’s cheaper, it creates more soot—they also use chemicals in their scent and dyes. This is your cue to support small businesses using toxin-free ingredients, because you don’t want harmful chemicals in the air in your home.
But it’s the art of candlemaking that’s my favorite: the romance. There’s something timeless about candlelight. It softens a room, calms the mind, and turns ordinary moments into something more special. Every candle tells a story through scent and design. Setting aside the ridiculous inclination of a certain Yankee Doodle corporate tendency to name candles things like “Frolicking Through The Fairy Garden” with absolutely zero scent description on a bottle, we know that the right fragrance combination can transport someone instantly. People deserve to know the names of the scents they enjoy.
Fragrance blending is its own creative language. Base notes (like vanilla or sandalwood) add depth. Middle notes (floral, herbal, or fruity tones) bring personality. Top notes (citrus, mint, or light woods) make the first impression.
Candlemaking as an art form is about emotion—evoking a mood with scent, color, and story from the vessel to the label to aspects of the appearance like toppings. Often controversial and not chosen by many candlemakers, I choose them for whimsy because I trust my customers not to set their curtains on fire with little rosemary or lavender bonfires.
One of my favorite parts of being a candlemaker is connecting with those for whom I pour the candles: the burners. Making candles for those I love over the years in addition to customers is a gift. I love being able to determine the scent profile of someone I’ve just met (often in addition to their astrological sign), and keep a particular scent in stock for just one customer in Wisconsin or Rhode Island.
It took me awhile, but just this month, I accidentally poured (from the bottoms of near-empty scent bottles) the most magical candle, something I rarely do because wax is money. It’s a blend of Cashmere Pumpkin, Vanilla Anise and Almond Macaron. I named it Cornucopia and poured a few for my shop for Thanksgiving, vowing to always pour it for myself. Candles are about self-care, and I’m inspired by my lovely customers who treat themselves and others.
Candlemaking has this beautiful duality: technical enough to challenge your mind, creative enough to feed your soul, and practical enough to become a business in crafting tiny, glowing experiences—one pour at a time.
Stay tuned next week for second part in this series: candle tricks and tips.
—Follow Mary McCarthy on Substack, Instagram & Bluesky. A new candle batch drops in her Etsy shop on Tuesday.