Walk into a corner store in Quebec and you'll find the same twenty bars you found there in 2005.

Meanwhile there's candy in Taiwan, in Mexico, in China that most people here will never taste — not because it's rare, but because nobody bothers to bring it in. It's ordinary candy back home. It just never crosses the border.

So we started bringing it in ourselves.

You build the box yourself. No filler, no mystery assortment where half of it goes in the bin. You pick every single bag, from six countries so far.

We buy small and turn over fast, so what you get hasn't been sitting on a pallet since last year.

In Italian, confetti means candy. Not paper — candy. Sugar-coated almonds thrown at weddings, centuries before anyone thought to cut up coloured paper and call it the same thing.

Gum + confetti. A handful of something bright, thrown for the fun of it.

We're not a subscription. We're not a candy museum. We don't tell you what to like — we bring the shelf to you and let you choose from it.