nali

Forumite cheshirecat included this as a generous frimp along with a bottle of hers I bought. At first sniff ("Whoa! Cologne!") I knew I'd rather smell this on my husband than on myself. He's tolerantly amused by my BPAL habit, but he's never been a scent-wearing guy himself (unless we count the distinctive odor of Naval Aviation). I smiled and batted my eyelashes enough for him to let me swipe a little Vicomte de Valmont on him this afternoon, though, and I don't think he's sorry. It's a pleasingly masculine scent, not nearly as overpowering as your stereotypical Manly!Man cologne. I've caught my husband surreptitiously sniffing his inner elbows while studying on the couch next to me. In between aircraft emergency procedures flashcards, he has even allowed as how he likes it enough that he'd wear it on a special date. If you'll pardon me, I'm off to come up with compelling ideas for a "special date." Hubba, hubba.

WOW! That sounds really neat - And to wear your grandmother's suit - How awesome! It was a blast! My husband is a Naval Aviator and I volunteer with the Civil Air Patrol as flightcrew for search and rescue operations, so I can't imagine a more appropriate way for us to spend Valentine's Day than dancing to big band music surrounded by gorgeously restored (most in flying condition, as evidenced by a breathtaking P-51D flight demonstration earlier that afternoon) World War II-era airplanes. Jacob's Ladder 2008 evoked just the right mood for me--I felt classic and classy without crossing the line into "old lady perfume."

I'm going to a 1940s-themed "hangar dance" at a local aviation museum, and I think I'm going to wear Jacob's Ladder '08. Out of the blends I have, this one seems the most fitting to me--its classic feel should go well with the vintage '40s suit (which belonged to my grandmother) I'm wearing for the occasion.

Lightning is the zing of orange zest backed up by water for me.

Pele hit me with a humidly floral scent in the imp. I got some serious olfactory deja vu when I put it on. Where have I smelled this before? There was an extremely familiar quality to the scent, and I couldn't put my finger on it. It was a warm, gentle kind of floral, not sweet at all. Fun fact for my note-uneducated self: Wikipedia tells me that "muguet" is French for Lily of the Valley, which is the flower of my birth month. This started out really subtle and continued in that vein. We're talking the lightest scent I've tried yet. It isn't a morpher, either--it's only gets fainter and fainter on the drydown. I could wear this without ever fearing that I'm perfumigating the place.

I couldn't pick up much out of the imp except a certain sweetness. When I put it on, I think my brain interpreted the ginger as an odd quasi-citrus. Any tea was nigh undetectable. A breezy sweetness underneath could have been the "clean linen." The honeyed vanilla creaminess came out as it dried and the ginger faded. Creamy, mildly comforting, and probably not worth more than occasional wear. I was hoping for more tea.

When I popped open the imp, I got cough drops, sweet and medicinal. Not a promising start, but not horribly offensive, either. What was medicinal in the bottle was more of a proper berry scent on, luckily. I thought I smelled rose ("rosy heather"?) underneath, saved from being overly sweet by something grey-green (for all the sense that makes). I loved that the floral has something of green leaves to it, making it feel alive rather than plucked. The blackberry gots progressively sweeter as Glasgow dried, turning more to jam than fresh berries. There remained a living flower scent underneath that increasing sweetness. I've worn it a few times since my initial test, but I like the wet phase better than the jammy drydown.

In the imp, I got bright, fresh citrus all the way. Upon my eager application, I got a watery tang with freshly grated orange zest in the background. There was a crackling note such that I expected my arm hairs to be prickling. Weird coincidence: it started raining as soon as I put it on (granted, half the reason I picked Lightning that day was that I knew the weather-guessers were calling for storms, but still). The verdict: This isn't the floral-to-beachy scent that Sea of Glass is. It's sharper, and there's some fresh (as opposed to salt) water in here. I smell this and I feel like I'm going to step outside and smell the damp, earthy green of a post-rainstorm world, just as soon as this downpour is over. I'm a little bit in love.

My impression in the imp was that of coconut blended with something I couldn't put my finger on. Immediately after application, this was a lovely coconut with salt and spice behind it, exactly as I hoped it would be. A bitter, nutty note rapidly emerged, however, which I first thought was the hazelnut. I soon revised my assessment to Florentine iris. Ugh, bitter, strong floral with something I'd much prefer to be smelling in the background. The horrible iris continued to dominate, but I stuck with it for some hours in hopes that it would fade. It didn't appreciably, so I finally gave up and went to scrub it off. I wasn't able to get rid of it entirely, but my skin was left smelling deliciously warm and spicy. I don't think I'm willing to go to the lengths of applying perfume and washing it off in hopes of leaving something that smells nice, though.

I popped off the imp's cap and was greeted by the aroma of very, very boozy coffee. It smelled more like coffee and liqueur than coffee and proper Irish whiskey, though. I was eager to put this one on, and I thought my excitement was justified when I caught the first whiff of creamy coffee. Much to my dismay, it morphed rapidly to... dust. The cofee was still present underneath, if rather Play-doh-esque when I held my nose very close to sniff, but the dreaded Doh wasn't as apparent from further off. Time went on... Eurgh. Dusty Play-doh. There was a kind of sugary, creamy coffee underneath, but the dust note made me feel a little ill. An hour or so later, it was getting creamier on my wrists, but the dust continued to dominate in the crook of my elbow. Then the sweetness decided to take a sharp increase. I kept wishing the dust note would disappear entirely. When my husband got home and took a sniff, he thought he was smelling a candy shop. A sadly dilapidated and dusty candy shop. "This would be a lot better without the dust," he said, "which is a shame, because the Irish coffee is excellent." Just goes to show that you never know until you try, because this was one of the ones I was most excited about based on the description. I mean, coffee and a library filled with old books? Yes, please. Unfortunately, it seems my skin has no desire to smell like such a delightful place. I don't think I'll be matriculating at Misk U.

My first impression of Embalming Fluid in the vial was that of something sharply citrus, a strong lemon scent with a hint of something green. Once on my skin, the citrus note faded rapidly into something herbal and green (though interestingly, I got more lemon from the crook of my elbow than on my wrist). The aloe was quite prominent early on. It was very summery and reminded me of being outside in a grassy field with morning sun angling down. As the hours wore on, there was something sharp about the way it all came together, an astringently herbal quality. I think a friend of mine put it best when she noted that Embalming Fluid gets "continually plant-ier," because this was almost aggressively green in a sun-warmed sort of way. The green tea asserted itself and stayed strong to the end. My husband's take on it was similar: I think I'd like to try Zephyr to see if it's the springlike/summery scent I hoped Embalming Fluid would be.

I was excited about this one, because really, how awesome would it be to smell of chocolate-covered cherries? Things didn't get off to a promising start, however: I got all cherry and no chocolate from the imp, with a little nuttiness thrown in for good measure. Wet, I still didn't get any chocolate. The cherry was mixing with something that made it smell a little off, maybe the orange blossom. The sweet, artificial "food" scent put me in mind of the ice cream-scented My Little Ponies I had as a kid. As it dried, the plasticky note died down enough to let the cherry come out and play. There was also a nutty smell, rather like Frangelico, but not as pleasant. My wrists smelled like some kind of candy, but certainly not chocolate. My husband didn't catch any chocolate either, with a first impression (some hours after application) of orange that morphed into cherry candy of some kind. Verdict: I'm disappointed that the rich cocoa/chocolate-covered cherry notes never came out on me, and I'm not sure that the floral/nutty/quasi-cherry scent is for me in spite of the fact that Vice got more pleasant over a span of hours.

My first real BPAL success! I might be an aquatic scents kind of girl, because this was like a walk by the ocean. In the imp, I got a generalized sort of "watery" impression with the implication of some kinds of cologne. When I first applied it, that watery scent hung back in favor of an immediate transformation to a floral. Wet, I got lilacs. It took me right back to springtime in the big backyard of my early childhood, the air redolent with clouds of the pale purple blooms. The floral impression pretty much dissipated as it dried, leaving aquatic loveliness. This was the first one I felt compelled to dab behind my ears just so I could get a whiff as I moved my head. I'm going to betray my lack of aromatic sophistication here and say that it blended quite satisfactorily with the sunblock I slathered on before we went for a walk by the water here on base. Salty-fresh-breezy goodness, and not too heavy for the South Texas heat. I'll definitely be wearing this on hot days.

A gentle vision of purity, goodness and virtue: white tea, carnation and Damask Rose. This was included as a frimp in my first BPAL order. I actually had a dream the night before that I was wearing Maiden, so I took that as a sign that it should be the second one I tested. I wouldn't have chosen it for myself based on the description, but the slightly spicy floral aroma I got from the imp was intriguing. Wet from the initial application, I caught carnation, not much rose. There was kind of an herbal element in the background that might have been the white tea. Slightly disconcertingly a tiny hint of the flower scent that reminds me of my old "Flower-Making Basket" Play-Doh set; I hoped that would go away during the drydown. As it dried over the next few hours, Maiden got softer and more subtle. I think the rose became more prominent, if a tiny bit powdery. I'm not convinced that's a bad thing, and my husband sure didn't think so: after inhaling deeply from my wrist, he got a big smile on his face and pronounced, "It's like a hint of spring coming to love me." He said he definitely got floral, mostly rose, but not a sickly-sweet, overly "perfumey" smell. All in all, not a bad scent, and one I'll probably wear again.

[Note: First-time reviewer here; apologies in advance for my faltering early steps into the world of perfume and its unique vocabulary.] In the gleeful and eager chortling that immediately followed the arrival of my very first imps, Snake Oil became my first tested scent by accident. There is an art to popping the top off the tiny vial that I had obviously not yet mastered, so a little of the thick, dark stuff dripped on my wrist as I tried to open it to take a sniff of BPAL's most popular blend. In the imp, I got a big ol' whiff of incense of the kind found in shops that cater to a hippy-chic clientèle. Whoa, strong stuff. Wet on my skin, that patchouli-incense smell continued to dominate. I learned that a little bit really does go a long way, which makes me think that these sample-sized vials are generous indeed. As it dried, perhaps a hint of vanilla developed, but I sure wasn't getting the spicy vanilla goodness that so many people rave about. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't bowl me over as perhaps I expected the Lab's most popular scent to do. Still, it was unlike anything I'd ever worn before, so I kept sniffing my wrists more out of fascination with the novel sensory experience than anything else. I don't think I care to smell like sweet incense akin to the kind sold at novelty shops like Spencer's. Of course, it's possible that I have a defective nose, because my husband's first words upon sniffing my proffered wrist were, "Whoa! Vanilla." After a time, though, he started to catch a lot more of the incense/patchouli. I don't think he was too sad when I scrubbed it off before bed. Maybe I'll try it again in a few months to see if that smooth, exotic vanilla makes its way to the forefront.