When the world shut down, Mark and I retreated to our place in Sechelt. We stepped off the ferry in Gibsons and something stopped me cold — the smell of wood smoke drifting from chimneys along the waterfront. Just that. One scent. And somehow, in the middle of all that uncertainty, I felt my shoulders drop.
That's when it hit me. How is it possible that a single fragrance can do that? Can reach right through the noise and bring you back to yourself?
I wanted to hold onto that feeling — and find a way to bring it inside. Not just once — but build a whole library of scents that could do that. Scents that bring you back to a good place.
The candles I'd been buying were never quite right. Too strong and they'd take over the room — sometimes even trigger a headache. Too weak and you'd forget they were burning. I wanted something in between. Enough scent to actually feel it, without it becoming the only thing you notice.
That's when I started reading labels. What I found genuinely surprised me — synthetic additives, phthalates, ingredients I couldn't pronounce. I didn't want any of that in my home. I wanted something clean. Thoughtfully made. A fragrance load that felt intentional, not overwhelming.
But even then, something was still missing.
That's when I discovered wood wicks. The idea that a candle could crackle — actually crackle, like a small fireplace — completely caught me off guard. Suddenly a candle wasn't just about scent. It was hitting three senses at once: smell, sight, and sound. That changes everything about the experience.
I was born and raised on the West Coast. Over the years I was lucky enough to travel — really travel — all over the world. And what I discovered is that home never left me.
The rainforests. The greenery. The mountains pressing down to the water. Even the rain. There's a smell to this coast that I've never found anywhere else. When Mark and I moved to the Sunshine Coast, I realized everything that brings me comfort is right outside my door.
That's when it became obvious. Every scent I was chasing — every feeling I wanted a candle to create — already existed. Just outside. In the moss after a rainfall. In the fir trees in the morning. In the fog rolling in off the water.
So the whole idea behind Twig became simple: let outside in.
Getting the formula right took months.
I spent that time sourcing every ingredient carefully — fragrance oils, wicks, vessels, wax. Each one had to meet the same standard: clean ingredients, sustainably sourced, cruelty-free, and genuinely high quality. I wasn't willing to compromise on any of it just to make production easier.
That's why I work in small batches. People sometimes ask why I don't just scale up. The honest answer is that every single scent has its own melting temperature, its own fragrance load, its own pouring temperature. Those details matter. Small batches are how I make sure none of that gets lost.
Every candle that leaves Sechelt is made the same way the first one was.
When it came to the scents, I knew exactly the feelings I wanted to capture.
The smell of the forest after rain — that deep, green, mossy world that's just outside the door here on the Sunshine Coast. The kind of scent that makes you breathe deeper just thinking about it. That's where Mossy and Woodsy live.
I also wanted something that felt West Coast but softer — a little floral, a little grounded. Earthy.
And then there's that feeling of a quiet night in. Fireplace going, a nightcap in hand, nowhere to be. That's Foggy.
But here's what I've learned: the same candle means something different to everyone who burns it. A scent that takes me back to a morning hike on the coast might take you somewhere else entirely. I love that. Some of my favourite moments are hearing what memories or feelings a Twig candle pulls up for someone. That's the whole point.
I won't pretend I know exactly what you'll feel when you light a Twig candle. Fragrance is too personal for that. Too individual.
But here's what I hope.
I hope that in the middle of a busy day, or at the end of a long week, you reach for Twig. You light it. And for a few minutes — maybe longer — life slows down a little. The noise quiets. You're just here, in your space, breathing something that feels good.