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BPAL Madness!
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About this blog

A male perspective on the scent obsession that is BPAL.

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Introduction to The Madness

I would call myself... "Obsessive" if I had to pin it down I guess it is because when I was young I didn't have much that was truly mine. Growing up in a low-income house, when I hit puberty and discovered girls, if I wanted to smell good I had very few choices afforded to me. For that reason I think now that I am grown and have my own money I tend to be indulgently obsessive. I have scaled back my BPAL obsession somewhat over the years but I still wear it everyday I just stick to my favorites. I would like to try several scents I have just learned "restraint" *twitch twitch* yeah that's it.   One of the funny challenges of being a Fragrant Fellow is the look of shock and consternation from people. I guess straight men aren't supposed to know words like "dry down". People often stop and ask me where I buy my "amazing cologne" and look perplexed at me when I reply "Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab". Women are often less prejudiced and even say they intend to get some for their significant other. A perfect example of this was the owner's daughter when I worked for a beauty supply company in Chicago who sniffed, somewhat uncomfortably, at me when I wore Dracul and then with an odd predatory look in her eye said "I have to buy that for [husband's name]".   I mean I guess historically "manly men: wear Aqua Velva, Old Spice and Brut but times change. I love smelling good and I refuse to support the conglomerate corporate devils that make the commercial colognes so BPAL was like a bright candle burning in the darkness calling me in from the cold to feed me hot cider. So I am a BPAL disciple for life.
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A peculiar problem to have

Have you ever stood in front of your dresser in front of a captive audience of 5mL bottles of BPAL and paralyzed--stark, still immoveable? Unable to decide which lovely aromatic masterpiece best sums up your possible later mood the best? I am sure I am not alone in this... am I?   So I stood for five minutes with Dracul, King of Clubs, Intrigue and #OCCUPYWALLST in my hand. I rolled them around in my hands like those silvery orbs you buy in Asian gift shops. You know the kind, stress relieving with little tonal plates inside that when you spin them in your hands your mind is supposed to find surcease of chaos. Well there I am spinning these little stress relieving scents in my palms. Whirring around and around in my shaky, hurried hands. This one? No! This one? Maybe!   Suddenly I drop one. NOOOOOOOOOOO! Who is this wild eloper who jumped to his death to escape the dizzying parody I was engaging in? It was #OCCUPYWALLST. As punishment for his impudence I twist his little head off and smear his fluid across my eager skin--behind my ears, wrist, hair, nape of my neck. I almost bathe in his essence. Now I'm ready to rock and roll all night!   Ciao
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