Why Do I Want My House to Smell Like a Church?

This summer, I took a trip to Italy. And in the spirit of Orange County residents designing Tuscan kitchens, I have attempted to bring it home with me. I now set my table with iron candlesticks from a Roman flea market and lace from a stall in Venice.

I dot my salads with aged vinegar from Castroni , and sip an herbal digestivo made by friars in a medieval cellar while doing so. All this behavior is pretty annoying, and my friends are sick of asking where I got something, only to be told, with misty eyes: “Porta Portese in Rome.” But the one arena where I get no complaints? The olfactory.

Because now, deep into my tragic, study-abroad-like obsession, I am obsessed with church smells. Churches, cathedrals, chapels, and basilicas are all standard stops for any tourist visiting Europe. In Rome, these are famously filled with works by Caravaggio, Bernini, Michelangelo, and the like— all available to admire for less than a euro, so long as you’re willing to pop a coin in a slit to turn the lights on.

But in addition to the visual splendor and overwhelming sense of awe one feels beneath a cathedral’s soaring vaulted ceilings, I love the scent: cold stone, smoking candle wicks, incense. Pontifical incense has always been available for purchase, and there are official Catholic candles that evoke the aroma of mass. Now, thanks to various geniuses in the fragrance industry, it is shockingly easy to bring all of the cathedral scents (stone included) into the home.

My apartment.