Evening Skin? It’s very leathery. Bahamian mom? It’s very beachy. Peaches and cream? off season. Sweet cat? Number.
On the Sunday before Christmas, in a windowless basement beneath a knitting hall in Downtown Brooklyn, actress and novelist Dagmara Dominczyk sought the perfect aroma. Since her undergraduate days at Carnegie Mellon University, a candle devotee (“I light them from morning to night,” she said), had come for a candle. “Sip and Smell Experience”: a free two-hour workshop hosted by Kately’s Candles Here’s what he found on Eventbrite.
When she arrived, organizer Kevin Pierre-Louis seated her on a gray vinyl sofa and handed her a box of around 50 small bottles with hand-printed labels. His assistant handed him a glass of sparkling rose, which he sipped diligently.
“I am a drop,” he said. “I’m spilling. I’m staining.”
“You are very beautiful,” said Mr. Pierre-Louis. “I don’t see it spilling.”
“I’m beautiful because I did my makeup,” replied Ms. Dominczyk, 45.
He brought her more bottles and she sniffed them, rejecting most of them. “Not mistletoe,” he said. “I used to love candles that smelled like Christmas trees, now way too much.” He reached for another bottle and read the label aloud. “Creamed Nutmeg – that’s what they called me in high school,” he said jokingly.
Earthy and elegant, The eldest of three daughters, Ms. Dominczyk immigrated to the United States from Poland when she was 6 years old. She blossomed as an actress at Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School for Music and the Arts and Performing Arts. After graduating from Carnegie Mellon, she landed the female lead in a lush 2002 film adaptation. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”
His career seemed assured.
Instead, he spent the next few years staying outside, sleeping inside, eating Polish food, and working only occasionally—a movie here, a television episode there. She dated actor Patrick Wilson (they clashed briefly in college), married him the following year, had their first son a year later and a second son three years later. Lives in Montclair, NJ
The job was intermittent. Her body had new curves. When her husband appeared as Lena Dunham’s sex interest in an episode of “Girls” in 2013, some online trolls suggested that a traditionally attractive man like Mr. Wilson would never have a date with someone like Mrs. Dunham. Miss Dominczyk withdrawn He tweeted, “Funny, wife is size 10, tops muffins and everything and she does it just fine.”
Cast directors, some of whom asked if she could lose 20 pounds, weren’t quite sure what to do with her silky finish, more steel interior, and obvious intelligence.
That changed in 2018 when she was cast as Karolina Novotney, the undisputed public relations executive. HBO drama “Succession”. He was quickly promoted from a recurring role to a regular series role.
He asked the producers if Karolina could act the way the Roy brothers did, but they’ve denied it so far. “I want to play,” said Ms. Dominczyk. “I want to have sex with one of the siblings. Or Shiv? I do not know. But the role is such that Karolina stays in her own lane. He is there to do the job.”
Miss Dominczyk can also be seen as a hornet mother-to-be. the critically acclaimed Netflix movie “The Lost Daughter” Directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal. And he recently landed the lead role in the HBO limited series “We Own This City,” in which he plays an FBI agent. investigate police corruption. “As I became more established and less apologetic for it, the less I thought I should look or act a certain way, that was exciting for people,” he said.
If he prefers complex characters, his olfactory taste becomes simpler. “I’m a much sweeter, more relaxed, pumpkin pie, falling out-of-candle person,” she said.
A bottle labeled Dulce de Leche made a cut. And Pumpkin Patch and Pumpkin Rum Cake. Also Smoked Chestnut. (“Chestnut is a very Polish thing,” he said.) And the Holiday Basket, although Mr. Pierre-Louis joked that he should have called it the Holiday Basket Case. He sniffed the mixture approvingly.
“I want to do this like a shot,” he said.
He brought his choices to the back of the room, where Mr Pierre-Louis melted coconut wax and castor oil in a cauldron set above a camp stove. He spun a spigot and the wax was collected into a pineapple-shaped mold. Ms. Dominczyk measured out a spoonful of each chosen scent, then added burnt orange and a dash of dried flower petals.
“I don’t cook,” he said. “This is the closest I’ve come to cooking during the entire holiday season.”
Mr. Pierre-Louis told him to give his scent a name, and after a moment he decided on Smoked Mountain. “This is also the name of a sausage in Poland,” he said. “I am kidding.”
As the wax hardened, he walked up the creaking wooden stairs to a commercial section of Livingston Street to stretch his legs and drink a mint-flavored Juul. Was he ready for the holidays?
He reached for his phone and pulled out a picture of his decoration—lights, trees, and a tinsel revel. “As if Christmas vomited,” she said happily. That night he would meet friends and family for dinner, then help out with the Feast of the Seven Fish and a Christmas dinner that mixed Polish and American traditions.
“Last year, Patrick we’ve been in the family for 15 years – if he wants Christmas ham, let’s give it to him,” he said using a curse.
When you got back to the basement, the wax was largely dry, Mr. Pierre-Louis gave him a pair of scissors so he could break the wick. “It’s like an umbilical cord,” he said.
Miss Dominczyk sniffed with delight. “Oh my god, it smells so good,” she said. “Bottle it. I don’t even need any commissions.”