A Candle You Weren’t Supposed To Light: Upstairs Window by Solstice Scents

I didn’t need another beeswax fragrance, yet here I am, nose to wrist, slightly stunned. Upstairs Window from Solstice Scents doesn’t shout honey, it hums candle. Think the glow of a well-loved taper, wax pooling on old wood, a sheet left to dry by an open casement. It is intimate, a little nostalgic, and it never tips into syrup.

The beeswax arrives as memory before it becomes scent, warm and honeyed but filtered, like light through dust motes. There is a soft resinous shimmer that reads like amber splinters and a gentle wood tone that keeps the sweetness grounded. I get the faintest trace of cooled smoke, not bonfire, more wick, plus a lived-in musky skin feel that turns the whole thing into a quiet veil. If you have ever fallen for the almondy-pollen facets of wax rather than the sticky roar of honey, this will hit the spot.

Comparisons help. Zoologist Bee wraps beeswax in a full apiary of florals and syrup, gorgeous yet maximal. Hiram Green Slowdive leans tobacco and nectar, syrupy and swoony. Upstairs Window chooses stillness, candle over comb, wood over jam. It is closer to a whisper of attic boards warmed by sun, a faded book spine, a cup of tea forgotten while you stare out at the trees.

Performance is polite but persuasive. Sillage sits close after an hour, which suits the mood, and I get a steady six to eight hours. It is an easy indoor scent, the kind people notice when they hug you, not when you enter the room. Seasonally it thrives in early fall and late winter afternoons, though I loved it on a breezy spring day, paired with linen and old gold jewelry.

If Serge Lutens Miel de Bois made you nervous, relax. Upstairs Window keeps the feral edges in check. It is not gourmand, not floral, not quite resinous either, it is the elegant middle where wax, wood and warm air meet. I call it a winner in my week of testing, the kind of perfume that turns silence into a texture.