alexandra

Darkness first sits me at my Nana's dressing-table, with ornate hairbrushes, powder puffs and antique bottles of Chanel and Yves St Laurent. I almost choke on the face powder. This ismakes me sad, mournful: my nana died two years ago and I miss her. And then Darkness does something very interesting. The myrrh, a mourning scent, recedes and the opium takes over to try and ease my hurt. I want to give into the smoke, lean back, Dorian Gray style, and let it transport me to oblivion with its sickly-sweetness. It doesn't smell dark at all, it is swirling sweetness supported by myrrh, but the effect it has on me is dark, dark, dark. Not black, but a blank, dark brown. There is something sensual, exhilarating and libidinous about this stage. Inhibitions are exhibited and released. Very powerful. The imp is enough for now but I turn to it when I want to remember, keep perspective and when I want to feel powerful and release inhibitions, both creatively and socially.

TKO, in both perfume and massage oil form, is one of my top 5 BPALs so I just had to get the soap. I wanted a smooth, soft, lathering bar of loveliness that would aid my nightly bath and help me sleep. TKO soap, though, lacks the vanilla softness and incense comfort of the oil and smells like any standard herbal lavender soap and I can get those elsewhere (and for less...). It also has abrasive scrubby bits that wake me up too much to be used as a relaxing sleepy wash, and there is also not that much lather. I've had it for quite a few months now and was hoping more oil would ooze out but twas not to be. I will stick with the other forms of TKO for now.

Samhain 2007 As it is my love, my Samhain, I find it almost impossible to break down the experience into the usual wet/dry/notes etc and instead herein lie my infatuated impressions. When I opened the bottle a whole scene sidled out, a narrative that filled my study and made me start writing my novel. Tis all apple, deep, round spices, fir, stormclad woods, woollen blankets that scratch yet comfort, leaves swirling and crunching beneath booted feet, heavy coats and cloaks, power and safety, presence and illusion. I reach for it every day and have to stop myself in case I use up my only bottle before it (please, please, please) gets re-released. I bought a bottle of 2005 Samhain on Ebay and it is more appley and assured (whether from aging or formulation I don't know) but still has the same warmth, richness and magic. It also layers beautifully with almost any vanilla (particularly Dorian), tobacco and smoke blend. My love, my Samhain.

Incredible. Destroying Angel is alluring, dark, and mysterious. Shiny too, and I haven't applied a top coat. Three days in and it catches the light and throws it right back atcha. It dries without a wrinkle which is very unusual for me and, with two coats, is the colour of Minstrels backlit by Hell. There is definitely a purple tendency but when I asked m'husband he said it was "brown. and red. and blue. and purple. and I think it's yellow too." Chip resistant, which comes in useful. The lady that wears this will do most things but only with the most interesting people.

I find it hard to review my favourite BPALs, it is like trying to say why I adore my husband: 'well, he is intelligent and witty and kind and talented, and, and, and' but it gets nowhere near the centre of the bond between us. So it is for me and Lyonesse. Yes, I love vanilla and amber and elemi but it is more than that. It is sweet and comforting yet powerful and sexy. It is the richest Cornish vanilla ice cream topped with toffee sauce. It is cake smashed by a picnic sex sesh. It has a throw that floors gentlemen and ladies alike (in a good way). Most of all, like my husband, it is so very me. I cannot be without it. :D

In the imp: roses past their best. Something a bit off in there. Wet: The something odd lingers briefly on the skin then vanishes leaving Grandmama Rose. And then a tube of Parma Violets pops forwards. And then the tea rose is back. Dry: Sweet, entwined florals with rose just edging out on top. And?...: It's okay, but a bit brash and embarrassing, like a young girl going out in her mother's make-up, blue eyeshadow up to her eyebrows and salmon-pink lipstick on her teeth. I much prefer The Atrocious Attic for rose and violets yoked together.

The name Castitas is perfect for this. The soft, warm vanilla and delicate rice flower make it innocent and delightful, nourishing even and yet, combined with the cream, it is rich, decadent and extremely sexual. Depending on my mood and intent, I have used this my comfort, relaxation and empowerment. In the bath, a little goes a long way and still scents the air, your body, the towels and anyone who is in contact with me. Afterwards, my skin is soft and smooth but not oily. Poured straight on the skin I was worried that it would go Milk Moon bad on me, as it has some of the same tropical creaminess, but it doesn't at all. Instead it is warm, rich vanilla cream that lingers and makes me feel amazing. It conjures images and myths of innocent flesh about to be corrupted. And corrupted deliciously. :D

I've had a few rubs with TKO massage oil and, while tis great, it doesn't have as much impact on me as the perfume oil. Last night, though, I poured a little in the bath, then stepped into the most sensual, sleepy-sexy Elysian waters, scented with sweetened lavender and just a sneaky suggestion of pot. I got out all silky smooth and massaged in some more oil. Wet skin seems to bring out the vanilla in the oil and I smelled fabulous, I must say. I wished I had some lavender coloured silk pyjamas to slip into, instead I put on my grubby robe and removed my cat's gift of hair-ball puke from the bed. Still. I slept easily and deeply and that's not normal. TKO massage oil: gorgeous as a massage, even better in the bath.

Well, I had a big gig the other night. I went on stage as a guest singer with a headline act and while I love singing with my band and have no collywobbles at all, this was completely out of my comfort zone. After my Castitas bath, my heart all a-flutter, I looked at my imp stash and picked up the first one that caught my eye. Wolf's Heart glowed red and stood out beyond all the others so I put a tiny amount on my microphone hand, heart chakra and throat chakra. I was worried as the throw was HUGE, and not that pleasant: acrid jasmine, burnt spice, oddness. But... it may well have worked. Instead of feeling nervous and heartbeaty as I had been all day, as soon as I put in on I was calm, composed and, while I had a strange floating sensation and the thought that everything in the world was surreal, when I got on stage I nailed it. I was relaxed and strident and confident and it was all rather wonderful. I had loads of compliments, offers of further gigs and hob-nobbed with celeb types. Surreal indeed. Wolf's Heart. I've always loved wolves.

Headache I have, mintyness desired. In the vial: aquatic mint, a mermaid sucking a polo. Wet: Mint and something unpleasant. I know - towels that have been left damp in a bag after the gym. urgh. Dry: The mint has vamooshed. I get a mild grope of grapefruit under musty towel. And?...: My skin makes it nasty, very nasty. Grumble.

I neither liked nor disliked this when I got it in December, finding it very candycane and peppermint creams but rather uncomplicated. Today, however, I have an unholy triumvirate of cold, hangover and fibro flare-up so I thought a bit of a Lick might do me good. Wet: smooth, rounded, ever so minty caramels. I popped my nose to my wrist and some of it tickled the tip of my nose amd made it feel icy. Dry: the mint retreats a little then softens away into the musty aged paper smell that has been mentioned before which does indeed feel a bit odd. And then buttery mint pops back. And then goes away again. It's like being in an ancient library, starving from extended study and getting occasional whiffs of delicious mintiness that I can't track down. And?...:Well I don't know. The initial stage is lovely - sweet and smooth, at once refreshing and comforting. But the morphage into old paper is strangely unsettling for a book fiend like meself. Aging has smoothed it out so I will let it develop further, and see which way it goes.

In the bottle: smoky Sugar Skull. Promising. Wet: over reduced caramel, occasionally a waft of Chinese food. Anyone for chow mein? Dry: Like Sugar Skull on its last, skeletal legs. Thin and not that pleasant. Where are you miss violet? I want ye. And?... Not awful, just not as complicated on my skin as the notes promised. Not for me.

Shub soap is very Shubby, I am very thankful to sniff. Beautiful, creamy lather with a strong scent that wafts and lingers. Comforting on achy days, sexy on date nights, tis the perfect soap. It whittles at the waist a bit easily though, I fear it will not last long despite my dedicated care. Shub is my love and now I can get naked with it. Oh yes.

Oh the splendour of Blood Countess. It goes on so smoothly, making application very easy to control so I made far fewer boobs than usual. One coat: cheery pinky-red like I've been picking stones out of cherries. Two coats: sexy mid-red, sophisticated like. Three coats: Deep dark red, edging to brown in some lights, to black in others. It makes me feel how I really am. Hey mama I'm a dark and sexy lady, you'd better watch out. And I found it held on better than any other varnishes I've tried, not chipping at all until day 5. And even when it's chipped it just looks sexier, like a lady who uses her hands well...

Rose Red is a gauche rose. A green, naive, run head-first into a dark love affair kind of rose. On me it smiles for hours, smelling of true-hearted wet rosepetals in a light-dappled pool. Only at the very end does it become troubled as it learns that everything comes to an end. Even this beautiful, tearingly innocent oil. I love it.

In the bottle: boozywoozybuttery caramel, a just lit cigarette resting on a coconut shell and warm amber. Rapacious, ravenous raunchfest here I come. Wet: A floral floats around somewhere on top of a rich, deep pool of caramel. Opium smoke wafts over the top. Dry: Faint caramel and incense. Very soft and comforting. A warming winter scent I reckon. And?... Well I do like Red Lantern but tis not the raunchathon I was hoping for. As usual, my skin has turned something dangerous and wild into sweet, warm girliness. Holy rather than harlot and hellfire on me. Oh well.

Oh yes yes yes! I bought Urgh as I have ME/Fibromyalgia and need all I can to offset aches and pains and.......it is great. I just massaged some into my neck and shoulders and already the tightness is ebbing and the pain is dulled, replaced with a light tingling sensation. My shoulders have dropped and feel looser ad now the rest of my back is crying out going "me,me" but it will have to wait till the Husband gets home. It also has a psychological effect - I was nodding off at the computer and it has woken me up and put me in a cheerful mood,not an easy thing to achieve unless you are a big bar of chocolate or David Tennant. (If you are either of these then do PM me one day ). The texture is smooth, light and absorbs easily. As for the niff of it, it smells acutely of eucalyptus at first, then rosemary then the orange blossoms through like a brisk, smiling, efficent nurse giving you a herbal bed bath. If you know the Carry On movies, then imagine Hattie Jacques with a bosom full of herbs and fruit, cranking out your knots with a sweep of her flannel. Cooling and warming all at once, it lifts dull spirits and drops them off at a jollier place. I will need a lot of this.

I'm another who found Sugar Skull 2007 a bit acrid when I first sniffed it but, two months later, I am now in love. In the bottle: brandy butter! I love brandy butter, tis my favourite festive foodstuff. Wet: brandy butter just melted into a dark slab of christmas pudding rich in spices, raisins and cherries. Dry: Deeply spiced, buttery and booze-fuelled figgy pudding. I am very happy indeed. Kapow gazowka, it is good. What's more, my cat is sitting next to my wrist, sniffing me and rocking back and forwards in a Sugar Skull purr. And?... : Perfect for a crisp and bright winter's day wub2:

In the imp: simple, bright rose Wet: There's the rose - blooming and wet and pot-pourri pink. Feels rather one-dimensional at the moment. Dry: The rose has calmed down and is much nicer to the nose. Wait a sec, what is that? I smell green thai curry underneath fresh rose petals! Yup, definite whiff of coconut and the spices that would have been piled in sacks on the streets of the old east india docks in London. And?: Rose then crazy Thai restaurant sprayed with rose. I can't see me wearing it very much.

In the bottle: Smoky and acrid - a rubber tyre burning on a pyre. A proper anarchist's Guy Fawke's Night in an abandoned car yard. Rather dangerous. Wet: Hold on, you little minx, what's all this? Suddenly it is sweet and delicious - toffee apples before the syrup has set, eaten in front of a small garden bonfire with the full knowledge that it has been checked for hedgehogs and that we can go in and warm up soon. Dry: And now I smell of the night we had Bonfire Night in the kitchen of a tudor house, in front of a great big fire with chestnuts roasting and popping, fudge bubbling in a heavy black pan. The scent of shunted centuries, melted sugar, sesame snaps, buttered tea-cakes, oaksmoke, newspaper curling up the chimney and nuts. And?...: I like. A lot. It is staying with me for writing Autumn scenes and will be worn through this Winter and on our big town Bonfire Night next year. Gooooooooooood.

In the bottle: Dark gingerbread, a really dark brown colour comes to mind. Wet: Much more savoury than I expected - like dried out gingerbread from a health food store with all the sugar and syrup and fun removed. The ginger smells burnt on me. It has the sinister edge of a fairy tale - if this was the gingerbread used to build the witch's house then I'm not sure Hansel and Gretel would have been tempted... Dry: Mellows slightly, becoming rounder and deeper. I wore this to the pantomime before Christmas and it was festive but still I am not in love. And?.... Whereas I adore Shub, I do not love GP and I am very sad about it.

In the bottle: I'm rather disappointed as all I get is calla lily over lavender. Wet: The rose blooms now. It seems wistful. The lavender is soft and reminds me of a lavender cake I once had. The resemblance to TKO is clearest at this point (and I've got TKO on my other wrist for comparison purposes). Dry: Rose, lavender and lily blended so beautifully. There is the slightest touch of sandalwood but I can't find the violet , I love violet. There is something very sad about the blend, soothing but sad: like a ghost comforting a grieving loved one. And?...: It is lovely, even sans violet. I have anthropomorphised the beautiful, sad spectre Atrocious and wear her as a bedtime blend. She works just as well as TKO and gently tips me into sleep and comforts me when I wake in the night but will never take comfort herself. Edited to add: After four and a half months of aging. The Atrocious Attic has really blossomed. It is now a beautiful, vanilla-sugared blend of violet, lavender and rose, with the lily in the background now. It is incredible, AMAZING and not sad in the least. And the throw wafts around my body, making me feel like I have a fabulous secret. I really want more of this and I just hope she comes out of the Attic again this Halloween.

I am of bookish bent: love the Lovecraft, all libraries and books keep me alive so I had great hopes. In the vial: boozey-oozey Baileys. I once drank far too much of the stuff so it makes me exceedingly queasy. Very strong, not really irish coffee though - I get more rum than whiskey. Wet: Overpowering Baileys. I feel ill. My head it throbbeth at the scent memory. Dry after 1 hour: Baileys. Dry after 2 hours: Baileys. Dry after 3 hours: Baileys with coffee grounds. Dry after 4 hours: Magic! Mouldy books and bookshelves! Hurrah! My geeky self jumps up and down and hugs herself. Bookshop sexiness ahoy! But wait, the dirty-flirty-girlie in me says "that means I smell like rotting papers and bookworm-ridden shelfstacks - will the husband snoggle me now?" And?... Tricky. The very good Baileys approximation brings back bad memories and that is there for hours before retreating behind the mouldering tomes. And I'm still not sure if I want to smell of that very much. I will use it when I am writing though, I'll just put a peg on my nose for a few hours.

In the bottle: soft lavender, vanilla and and an undertow of sage-based incense. Wet: smooth, sweet lavender, no spikiness. This isn't friendly though, I feel oddly detached as I climb into bed with it on. Dry: most likely lovely but I have no idea. I've worn this for the last few nights and felt my limbs drag themselves deep into the mattress, heavy yet weightless. A strange, not unpleasant sensation. I really feel quite decadent at this stage, like I'm giving myself up to the king of vanilla vampires. I am asleep within ten minutes of applying it. I would advise popping this on after any kind of bed-based naughties if you wish to be awake for them! The next morning: Very difficult to drag myself out of sleepiness. The delcious smell lingers on the skin until mid-morning and on the sheets until I wash them, making me all relaxed and hypnotised if I go anywhere near my bed. And?... A potent potion indeed...

In the vial: very vanilla, the amber is there but there is a cloying scent (sweetpea?) that I'm not keen on. Wet: Sweet and comforting but again there is something that floats on the top making me gag. Dry: Huzzah! The disquieting note has vanished and I am left with a beautiful, creamy vanilla with soothing amber holding my hand. Lovely. And?...: I love it after half an hour - truly comforting. I find myself drifting towards the imp at bedtime, popping it on my shoulder as I get ready. By the time I snuggle up in bed I get cuddly drifts of vanilla that soothe me into sleep. Beautiful little rodent.