Diptyque candles ranked: Without a doubt, a Diptyque candle is one of the best souvenirs you can bring back from France (not least because depending on the exchange rate they’re about 25% cheaper there than in the US, for the same size).
How, though, to know which one to get? Some of them are amazing — others, incredibly meh, and yet they all cost the same, so it pays to do your homework Below, all of the standard Diptyque candles, ranked, from 1 to 46. Feu de Bois will forever be my number one; I will forever despise Baies (note that many people think Baies is the best Diptyque candle; you will decide for yourself.)
This ranking of Diptyque candles includes everything but special editions, like the city editions (which I haven’t had the good fortune to see in the flesh) and the holiday candles, with which I am completely obsessed and I love all of them.
Diptyque Candles Ranked: #1-#46
You may love it. I hate it. A dupe for all those redcurrant candles seen in every indie fashion shop in 2008. Strong, though, if that’s your thing.
Oak. Like the inside of a wood cabinet. I feel like Chêne might deserve a place at the bottom of most list of Diptyque candles ranked (and it would have been on this one if I didn’t dislike Baies so much.)
Lemon verbena. Lemony and bright and sweet. The weird thing is that the throw’s not bad, but the scent is so anonymous that you can smell it and forget it at the same time.
Yeah, you know which flowers don’t have a strongly identifiable smell? Iris. (Don’t fight me.)
As a eucalyptus obsessive I wish I loved this more. Remarkably, the sale rep tried to talk me out of it, saying it smelled too much like an essential oil — basically, too simple, too straightforward. You know what? She was totally right. Eucalyptus can be a tricky scent to get right, so I guess mimicking eucalyptus is an achievement in itself, but…eh.
I find this to be a totally unremarkable floral.
Hazlenuts. The Nutella of Diptyque. Woodsy, fruity, sweet.
Tea. Slightly on the nose. Black tea, to be specific, but ultimately kind of boring?
Lemon grass. A lovely scent but extremely uncomplicated and much too faint: I stand over it and try to waft any possible scent toward my nose. Often gets special packaging for the summer.
Resinous — by which I think I mean syrupy? Sweet and cloying and spicy.
This was one of the first Diptyque candles I ever bought, and it was hella disappointing. IDK, mimosa flowers are so pretty,
35. Menthe Verte
Spearmint. I mean OK, but is this really an in-demand smell? Who is buying this?
You know who you are. Not exactly what you remember from college, if you want to that kind of college, but not exactly transcending it, either.
Fig. Supposedly Meghan Markle’s Diptyque candle of choice.
Hawthorn. One of the first Diptyque candles, which I find amazing. A progenitor to the rose. Rosy and sweet, but chilled out.
31. Geranium Rosa
A rose on the way to being something else. A rose with nuance. Nuance in the form of geranium leaf. Mild throw.
Well, if you like lilies, this is your girl. Medium throw. An easily (and pleasingly) identifiable scent. If you like lilies. But not everyone does.
Leather, with something soapy about it. Not for me, maybe for someone who’s really into woodworking?
Juniper. Like if Feu de Bois had a citrus note in the middle of it all.
Resiny, heady, rich. Like a little den with rich scents.
Vetiver, which if you aren’t in the luxury candle/fragrance is a dry, woody smell — a cut field, but in August, after a long spell with no rain? Kind of grassy? I’m sure there’s people out there who love it but pas pour moi merci.
And yet not Santal 33 (from Le Labo). Sigh.
Quince. If you don’t know what quince smells like, think of a mashup of pear and apple — just sort of fresh and sweet. This is like that.
23. Bois Ciré
Resiny, like Myrrh, and wood, like Chêne. For me neither here nor there.
I know this isn’t it’s fault but “maquis” is also the name for French resistance fighters who lived in the wild, and I find this confusing, even though they are both referring to the same thing: scrubland. Like if a hill in Provence could have a scent, this is it.
Light and floral. The right candle for a baby shower, held in an apple orchard, on the last Saturday in April.
Moss. I’d love to see a sales chart ranking all the Diptyque candles, because I feel like this one is coming in last. Smells fine. Grassy, a bit? Rich? Should be richer, I think.
Mexican orange blossom: citrusy and bright. Stronger than many. The Cut published an entire piece about it.
Diptyque compares it to myrrh and benzoin. This list is revealing my personal biases, which is against heady, rich, Eastern smells, though I sort of love this one (though not enough to rank it higher). The Diptyque candle of choice for a riad in Marrakesh financed exclusively by an American founder of a luxury athleisure brand.
So romantic — and yes, musky. I didn’t have a lot of experience with musks outside of Kiehl’s, so this was a weird one for me. Lighter than I expected.
Another citrus-y smell, but this time yuzu. Like being outside, in an orange grove. Sweet. Cannelle doesn’t smell like cookies, but Oyédo might smell like orange cookies. Bright and fun, and doesn’t disappear into the furniture like Verveine and Citronelle.
Linden flowers. If you grew up near a linden tree (see #2, Muguet), you’ll like this more than I did. Lightly floral, etc.
The ultimate Christmas fragrance for a variety of reasons. Heady, spicy. Not a powerful throw but not nothing.
13. Foin Coupé
Cut hay. More like hay than Vétyver, which I compared to a field. Light, bright, kind of boring?
Sandalwood and patchouli. Heavy but light. A library, owned by a woman, in Turkey, in January. I like it but I don’t love it. With Feu de Bois I do think it is one of the most Diptyque-y scents.
As Christmas-y as Myrrh. A back-up to Cannelle. Like a cloved orange. Wish it had as strong a throw as Feu de Bois.
10. Feuille de Lavande
I really like the smell of a lavender candle, but there is absolutely nothing about this lavender candle, versus the other 34 billion out there, to make it worth Diptyque’s price.
A smoky vanilla. I always want this to smell like Le Labo’s Paris Vanille 44, and it just doesn’t.
Cinnamon. An autumn back-up for Feu de Bois, on cold but sunny days. I can admit I expected this to smell like cookies and it doesn’t (obviously).
Man, Diptyque makes a lot of citrus candles. Happily, this is the best of them. Oranger is blood oranges, in Sicily, on a warm night in June. Lovely and deep and rich.
I mean, it smells exactly like the name on the label, so there’s that. A very strong throw — I’ll let it for 30 minutes and then give it a rest, because it’s that strong. A springtime scent that’s heavy like a winter one, if you know what I mean.
Honey and tobacco. Autumnal, but sunny afternoons rather than rainy weekends, like Feu de Bois. Masculine, but not overly so. Not overpowering, but you won’t forget you lit it, either.
Beautiful. Non-candle jasmine is beautiful. It is often, when encountered in the wild, overpowering. This is not. I wish it were moreso. The unlit candle wax smells better than the lit scent.
Delicate violets. A perfect candle with a tragically weak throw. Walk across the room and you’ll forget you lit it. But beautiful if you’re sitting right next to it.
Lilies of the Valley. Like Proust’s madeleine, if you happened to have a grandmother who grew lilies of the valley. Which I do, which might account for this exceptionally high ranking. If you like lilies of the valley, it’s the closest thing you can get without having a patch of them under your bedroom window. Wish it could be stronger, but strong enough.
1. Feu de Bois
Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. A fall dream in a glass container. Perfection. Everything that is good about autumn. It gets lit on the first rainy Sunday after Labor Day and is the go-to scent until Thanksgiving, when it alternates with the Christmas range.
Thank you for taking a look at our list of the Diptyque candles ranked from #1 to #46. See also: All the best beauty and fragrance shops in Paris (including Diptyque)