persianmouse

An obscenely fierce homage to Krampus: sugared red musk, red sandalwood, locust honey, and inky tobacco smeared over red leather and vanilla cream lace, spiked with green cognac and pink pepper. Like a witch at a brothel eating marshmallows. Dangerous sexy with a sweet tooth. I get very little leather, the red musk and sandalwood and tobacco and honey are kittens clawing their way up my jeans demanding attention, and the vanilla cream lace is meowing in the background. And just when it gets quiet, the pink pepper come barreling in from nowhere to say hi.

In the bottle, I smell mostly amber, lavender, orange blossom. On my skin, the orange blossom and the amber/amyris (light sweet-smokey scent) comes out, the lavender is present, but not overwhelming (total backing vocals). I can also smell what I think is the angelica root (which is supposed to smell like juniper+musk), because there's an unusual note I can't quite place. It smells like something softly sweet, and outside (not floral, woody, herby, or green, but some distinct smell of outsideness).

Italian bergamot and neroli with marigold, white jasmine, Himalayan cedar, lemon peel, and a drop of tobacco absolute. Generally speaking, I am not a jasmine kind of girl, nor is jasmine a mouse kind of flower. Me and jasmine have a long-standing arrangement to Agree to Disagree, and try to stay out of each other's way, save for a few illiciate rendevous, such as with Lush's Flying Fox (that wanton strumpet), that I dare not admit to in the harsh light of day. But kittens, this is a jasmine I can really cuddle the fuck out of. It reminiscent of Flying Fox, and is a very natural and laid back floral smell, like not a bouquet of different flowers kind of floral, or a grandma/old-timey prostitute kind of floral, but like 'walking past the actual blooms on a warm evening stroll' kind of floral. Funny thing is, most of these notes are not my scene (with the exception of the tobacco, which is an occasional ally, but it's really a minor player in this scentshow). Phaon Cresent is really just a big old stew of Things I Don't Like (not hate, just don't like) That Don't Work On Me...but yet somehow all comes together in way I end up really liking, and that really works for me. It's like...you know that Celebrity You Can't Stand, but they're in that One Thing where's they're really good, where they inexplicably shine? Yeah, it's like that.

Juniper Mint hair gloss manages to smell really clean and fresh, without having any of the typical notes I normally associate with clean/freshness. Doesn't smell powdery or skin-musky or green, but it just smells so fresh and real. Pretty good staying power, too.

Smells just like what the name and label suggest. A Fallen Woman who is happier for the fall. Definitely smells a lot like the French Tobacco single note, but you can also really smell the honey. But this isn't a fresh, innocent honey, this is a honey that has seen some things, and would be willing to tell you these things with it's red-stained lips, if you sit with her long enough and she takes a shine to you.

Pretty sure this is what fairy bedsheets smell like. Like wildflowers (but not FLORAL floral) and woodland things and tiny little throw pillows made out of blossom petals that they got at the Faeryland Pier 1.

When first applied, Weisse Maus smells like the finest, old-fashioned men's cologne. Now, some might take that as a bad thing, but hear me out. I don't mean a modern cologne with all its overwhelming syntheticness, I'm talking from way back in the day, when men's cologne still used essential oils and didn't come in a Windex bottle. When men wore hats and sock garters and knew how to wear pants that didn't collapse into a sad little shar-pei puddle at their feet. This is what Don Draper would smell like, minus the booze and smoke and sex sweat and lies. In short, it smells like a male guest at the Weisse Maus cabaret, right at the start of the evening, before all the booze and smoke and sex sweat and lies. Then, for a brief period as it starts to dry down, I can smell the greeny smell the other reviewers noted, where it goes all green and crunchy. An unexpected salad bar at the debauched cabaret. But once it dries, it smells almost exactly like Pinaud-Clubman talc. For those not familiar with Pinaud-Clubman talc (OMG why aren't you?!), it smells nothing like baby powder or talc. No one smells baby powder and thinks "God, I'd love to mount something right about now,". The same cannot be said for Pinaud-Clubman talc.

I would like you to think of an egg. A chicken egg is preferable, as being the most commonly encountered egg of all the eggs, but any egg will do, really. If you are having trouble picturing an egg, allow me to help you. ...no, that's not quite right, not eggy enough, that looks far too much like a personal massage device designed by Eero Aarnio. Ah, that's more like it. So, I would like you to think of the above eggs. Desperately yellow and rubbery and stinking of something primordial. Think of eggs. Now, think of the exact opposite of what eggs smell like. That is what Egg Moon smells like. The opposite of eggs. This isn't a scent that eats eggs every morning as part of healthy breakfast. This isn't a scent that makes sure to buy all its eggs from free-range cruelty-free small farmers. This isn't even a scent that eggs your house. This is a scent that tracks down the teenagers who egged its house, lures them outside in the dark of night, stuns them with a cattle prod, ties them up and throws them into the trunk of its 1987 Buick Grand National, where it drives them out into the Arizona desert, ties them to a cactus, and forces them to listen to SNL-alum Victoria Jackson reading Scooter Libby's bear-filled erotic masterpiece The Apprentice, until they beg for the sweet release of death.

Beth, goddamn I love you and you are so fucking awesome. And I think that's what got people's fur up at some of jayne's comments. Because they weren't just "I don't like BPAL.", they were dispersions on the character and ethics Beth and all the Labbies. Passive little insinuations and innuendo based on nothing but rumor and anonymous blog posts. That shit ain't right. Spend a little time on the forums, and you might realize that Beth is one of the last people you ever need to suspect of cheating you. This isn't a case of Cult of Personality, Beth is genuinely a good and talented person. Even with the buffer of the Internet, if you're a crazy douchebag, its eventually going to be made clear. And the reverse is also true, when you are fucking awesome, that is also going to made clear. Like it just was a few posts above this one.

Smells delicious. okay now that was just mean...points up. Don't you know I'm a mean mean girl? (AHH! I just noticed Pyramid Head in your sigline! Holy crap, that's awesome! And so appropriate! And awesome!)

Smells delicious.

Well, when you don't spend a lot of money on mass-marketing and fancy bottles and celebrity endorsements, its probably fairly easy to keep your costs down. Also, not all BPAL is the same price. BPAL can run anywhere from $15-$27.00 on average.

I'm sorry but that sentiment makes me really angry. Aww...that's so horrid that someone would disparage something you enjoy, based on nothing else but their opinion. And say it right to your face. How awful. Do you need a hug?

BLACK HEART Sweet pea, vanilla-infused sandalwood, bourbon vanilla, white honey, carnation, pomegranate, Vitis riparia, plum, and cognac. As far as the Black Sisters go, Black Heart is definetely the most gentle of the sisters, but weighed down with despair and regret. To reuse the allusion, this would be Andromeda Black (you know, the not really evil sister). Soft and a little somber, but with a real presence behind it, not a wilting waif wilting under despair. The fruits come out more prominently than anything else, the plum first and foremost, with the vitis riparia (a kind of grape) and pomegranate as plum's backup singers. I get a touch of sweet pea, too, like a flower in the hair. Sort of a "Terribly sorry my sisters have caused you so much grievance, but here, have this lovely fruit basket with my condolences. Hopefully they won't kill anymore of your godfathers, ehh?" I'm going to try mixing all three Black Sisters tomorrow, and will edit this review with my thoughts on that.

BLACK DEATH East African patchouli, bay, tobacco, golden amber, blackened sandalwood, orange peel, lemon verbena, clove, and a touch of lime. Oh, dearie me, this is definitely the darker, more sinister sister of the Black family. This is Bellatrix Black, all full of murder and malevolence. Simultaneously more imposing and lurking than either Black Lace or Black Heart, the bay, tobacco and clove are the most prominent notes, and I actually don't get much patchouli at all from it. There's a faint whiff of it, like if you went through an old, packed away trunk full of your old goth clothes from high school, when you bathed in a kiddie pool of patchouli every night. I'm going to try mixing all three Black Sisters tomorrow, and will edit this review with my thoughts on that.