Rusalka

Oh dear God... I had been desperately looking forward to this, being a fan of both Cthulhu and aquatics. I thought nothing of the unusually dank ... scent which rose from the imp vial, when I opened it. Despite the fact that it magnified on touching my skin, I braved the first noxious fifteen minutes bravely -- And then I ran to the sink and scrubbed. Something in Cthulhu does not agree with me. Something in it smells like ruptured octopi, the moment it comes into contact with my skin. And while that's not entirely inappropriate, it's not something that I can wear out. Or at home. Or er, at all, really. Oh, how I hoped... !

This is such a strange scent. In the imp vial, it reminds me sharply of Australian 'tutti-frutti' candy -- sweet, a little fruity, and heavy with sugar. But it transforms almost instantly, on touching my skin, so that 'radiant' becomes precisely the term for it. Oh, there's still a lot of fruit in here: if anything, the lime note is swollen into dominance now. But there are hints of sweet coconut peeking through, and the lemon's been made fragrant with petals, and everything has a deliciously sugared edge to it. Oh, this one is going to be a Summer scent for sure.

In the bottle: a subtle hint of coconut; the tiniest sliver of ocean. Wet: the coconut has almost vanished -- but then, so has everything else. There's a faint drift of pale florals, and a background of something so 'creamy' that I'm assuming it's the milk and shea butter. It doesn't sour on me, but neither is it particularly pleasant. Drying: the aquatics erupt into the foreground. Someone described this as being beach first, coconut second, and that's precisely how it felt to me at this stage. These are sparkling, clear waters with a backdrop of subtle coconut that's not so sharp as Snow White's, nor so richly intoxicating as Elegba's. Interesting, but I'm not sure that it's something I'd wear regularly. However... Drydown: this is where the real magic happens for me. Two hours after application, the scent has settled down; the aquatics have fled, and while I enjoyed their clarity individually, what's left behind is far preferable. This is a soft, creamy coconut, with just a hint of sweetness; this is coconut enfolded in milk chocolate, absolutely delicious and completely irresistable. My only regret is that it takes so long to advance to this stage. *g*

Oh, Montresor: my love, my passion! And very nearly my undoing. Who'd have thought that a few weeks' aging would make such a difference? But it really did. Fresh from the Lab, Montresor hit me like a truck full of cherry-steeped oak: mellow and rounded, palely brown and underscored by a hint of the most sickly sweetness imaginable. I kept the bottle for its name. ... and then took it out for another sullen sniff, a few weeks later. Talk about a miraculous transformation. The cherry has vanished; the oak has taken on a rich, spicy resin to its grain; the berries are dark and full-bodied and divine -- And all of this makes a twisted sort of sense, as not one of the Big 10 BPALs have worked for me. Snake Oil? Rotted leather on my skin. Shanghai? Powdered acid. Morocco? An unholy blend of dirt and Old Person, from the moment it touches my skin. But oh lord, does Montresor work.

This is so unusual; I really can't pin down anything individual in it at all. In the vial: the scent is sharp, piercing, and astonishingly sweet, for what I'd thought was a scent heavy with dirt and earth notes. Wet: my skin tends to amplify those earthy scents; Penny Dreadful is all loam, and nothing else, for instance. But Death Cap is a revelation; there's just the faintest background hint of earth -- and it's the clean, pleasant, freshly-tilled sort. The dominant note is that piercing sweetness -- which isn't the vanilla that people have described. I don't know what it is. Drydown: Hellooo coconut! For all of several minutes. And I can't tell one coconut from another, but this is the mature, complex cousin to the light coconut of Elegba. Eventually though, this evens out into subtle white florals and just the tiniest trace of the vanilla I'd been hoping for, with that touch of faint earth lingering in the background still. Pleasant, and I'll keep the imp, but not really what I'd been hoping for.

Oh, Baobhan Sidhe, how I loved thee... In the vial: A whorl of different scents, glistening and dewy and sharp and... just exquisite. The perfect foil to humid summer days. Wet on the skin: An explosion of grapefruit! Juicy and ripe, it smothers the tea almost completely, leaves only a little room for the ginger, commences outright war with the floral notes. Drydown: ... and the florals win. The grapefruit has vanished almost completely, the tea has been swallowed down and forgotten, and those charming blossoms that at first seemed to be so refreshing, have transformed into piercing white soap. With a liberal dose of baby powder to choke me. I loved you, Baobhan Sidhe, but my skin did not. As a room scent, this would be divine -- and that's how I'll be using the rest of the imp.

In the imp, the scent is exquisite: subtle, multi-faceted, and delicately sweet. Alas, the moment it touches my skin, it transforms into dish soap. Flowery, noxious liquid soap. Bizarrely, though, it layers magnificently with Tzadikim Nistarim; the end result is a scent of pure, golden sweetness -- with just the slightest acidic edge to it. Absolutely luscious.

This is such an unusual scent. In the bottle, it's lemon-scented linen: more clinical than comforting, with an edge that's pale and merciless. My skin magnified that hint of lemon into a monster; it wasn't until some time after drydown that I could catch a hint of the lily, and usually my chemistry will amplify it very well. I spent several hours sniffing at my wrist, not particularly pleased by the whole thing, and remembering very belatedly that amber really doesn't generally work for me -- When all of a sudden, the whole scent transformed; a subtle sweetness began to spread through it, smothering the lemon's harsh edge -- is it aloe? The white musk? I have no idea, but it feels like very pale honey to me, and the end result is delicate and quite delicious. What a surprise!

Is there something earthy on this? Perhaps just the faintest trace of it, except that my chemistry amps it to ridiculous levels. There are some very pretty, almost virginal roses here, sweet and delicate ... but they've been buried alive. Of course, that's only appropriate, given the name.. *g*

In the bottle: the scent is warm but heavily floral, in all the worst ways. This is the moment that gives me cause to thank all these wonderful reviewers who said "but wait, it gets better!"; if not for that advice, I'm not sure I'd have really tried this on. Wet: much the same -- there's not a hint of tea or sage or anything but almost sickening florals. Drydown: this is where the magic begins. At some point, the florals have faded almost completely; they linger in the background, but the dominant scent is that delicious, ripe blackberry. Now and then I catch a hint of sage, which I would never have picked as a good blend with fruity scents, and oh is it a pleasure to be proven wrong. I barely smell the tea at all, and that's fine by me. The blackberry is good enough to eat. As a happy side-note, this might be the one scent that my "it smells like my grandma" husband can actually enjoy. *g*

Good lord, this is the aquatic of my dreams. In the bottle: an assault of brilliant, blazing white. I have no coherent description for it; it delights and overwhelms. Wet: More of the same, but not quite so intense an onslaught of it now. The scent is crystalline, and is that lily of the valley that I smell? There's one particular, gentle floral at the heart of it -- and that might be what it is. I don't get a hint of the green or saltiness that others have mentioned: just this elegant note of floral and an undertone of very mild.. fruit? Melon? Not sure. Drying: I'd feared an assault of lemon, and it never arrived; thank you! What I have instead is crystalline and sparkling, a scent of indescribable cleanliness and purity. There's a very subtle sweetness to this now, and the pale floral has softened into something that reminds me dimly of magnolias. This is summertime nostalgia for me on so many levels, and it's absolutely the aquatic that I've been hunting for, for years. Large bottle of this for me, on my next order. Even if it didn't suit me, I'd still want it just as a room scent.

This one -- a very generous freebie from the lab (who seem to have noticed my love for the Wanderlust scents) -- was very strange indeed. In the bottle: Someone mentioned cat pee. This doesn't smell like urine... it smells worse, truly and indescribably horrid. If Cthulhu had a smell, this would be it. Wet: Cthulhu has left the building. Contrary to all reason, I am smelling warm, damp violets instead. Violets with bubblegum around the edges. Drydown: Over the following hour or so it's drifted back and forth between violets and gum. It's only right near the end that the cloves begin to assert themselves, and even then the sweetness is still overwhelming. If it weren't for that, and the odd initial scent, this might've made a lovely gift for our teenaged babysitter. But unfortunately, it's just not for me. The end scent is interesting, but not very appealing, and it takes a long time to get there. Sorry, but this one's going up for swap.

This is not at all what I expected, but I agree absolutely with whoever described this as 'golden'. Golden it is, and warm and dry -- without being dusty or stagnant. Fascinating. In the imp: absolutely overwhelming. I can't quite make out a single note -- just a clamor of spice and scented woods and light smokiness. Wet: the smokiness threatens to overwhelm, but it must be the sandalwood keeping it at bay; that's the other dominant scent. I'm relieved, because it was the one aspect I was worried about -- usually sandalwood is pungent on me in all the worst ways. Drying: it's slowly beginning to sweeten, a warm blend of light florals and stronger spices. The sandalwood is almost completely gone now, leaving gentle smokiness in its place; sadly, after a while this, too, faded until just the spiced florals were left. This is definitely one of the stronger scents that I've tried: I only need two tiny swipes from the imp applicator to be enveloped for hours. I'm not sure that I'd order a full bottle of it, but I'll definitely hold onto the imp -- with care, for the husband's not fond of this one, either, and it really does last forever on me.

I gave this one a go because my husband adores vanilla and honey on me, and I'm growing fond of them myself. In the bottle: So, so sweet, with just a slightly bitter edge. Intriguing, but not something that I'd wear. Wet: The amber overwhelms -- which is handy, since I wasn't sure of the scent of it before, and now I know to avoid those blends that are heavy with it. There's the faintest hint of sweetness, but it's far off in the background. Drydown: Two hours later, this has alchemised into something truly gorgeous. The amber seems to be almost completely gone, and the astringent bitterness has departed with it. What's left is warm sugar and dark, old honey; a balance of sweetness and heat so perfect that I cannot stop sniffing at my wrist. So long as I have an hour or so available before I have to go anywhere, this one is an absolute winner: not so overtly sexual as others have described, but langorous and warm.

Another gift imp -- thank you! In the bottle: profoundly violet; to my amazement, it actually dominates the mint, which I didn't think a floral would do. Wet: ... ah. There's the mint. It's battling the eucalyptus for supremacy, but so far it's the stronger of the pair. And by 'stronger', I mean almost overpoweringly so. I get a tiny hint of the 'metallic' scent that others have mentioned, but not as much as I'd hoped for. The scent is almost shockingly cold. Drydown: A little bit more of the metal to it now, and a good deal more eucalyptus -- which has gone straight to my throat, unfortunately. I've put off washing it away for as long as I could (it doesn't like my throat), but I'm glad that I did, because just as the scent's beginning to fade, the violet reappears, gentle and warm and with a hint of sugar-sweetness. Another very complex scent, and while it might be something I'd burn to fragrance a room, it's not one that I could wear.

A lazy, warm deep green scent with a thick aquatic undertone: Spanish moss, evergreen and cypress with watery blue-green notes and an eddy of hothouse flowers and swamp blooms. In the bottle: warm florals, and a hint of something sharper that I can't quite identify. Evergreen? I can't make it out, but it certainly makes for a complex scent. Wet: That sharp tang is gone; this seems to be one of those scents that my body just devours. The florals, on the other hand, are overwhelming: it's like stepping lethargically into a summer hothouse, surrounded by blooms; my mind pictures magnolias, even though that's not the right scent -- but their petals used to litter the streets I grew up on, come summer, and that's what this feels like: summery and filled with petals. Drydown: It mutes finally into a very subdued floral, although it doesn't actually lose any of its warmth. The subtlety is exquisite, and lasts for quite some time. Conclusion: This is summer in a bottle. When I first tried it in January, I actively despised it; it felt too sweet, too cloying, too overwhelming. But now that summer's here in full force, this is the perfect scent for deep-blue-sky days. I could bathe in it, I could fill the house with it, and I'm absolutely buying a 5ml of the lovely stuff.

Why, why, why... This was a gift imp, and one that I'd actually considered including in my order initially -- so it was a very welcome surprise! Unfortunately... In the bottle, this is an exquisite scent: floral, but strongly violet to my nose, light and delicate and dreamy. The problems only start when I actually put it on, because within the first moments of drying, it somehow turns to banana. Banana. Body chemistry strikes again. It's not beyond redemption: layered with Bayou, it makes for a startling complex blend, and loses almost all of the banana scent to Bayou's lovely hothouse flowers. But this one's not going to be a keeper, as much as I'd hoped for it.

This was a very unusual experience for me. I despise licorice, can't ordinarily abide even the smell of it; I'm not very fond of cherry, as a scent, either. But this arrived as a freebie with my order -- thank you, Lab! -- and I was hardly about to let it go untried. In the bottle, the scent was so strong as to be almost overpowering: heavily cherry/licorice, and even after first applying it, I could hardly detect the almond that so many people have mentioned. But this was the strange thing: even though I was pretty sure I didn't like the scent, I couldn't stop sniffing at it. I'm still experiencing it as the opposite of an allergy: its effect on my mood is bouying, and the scent itself proves addictive. I wish I knew what, exactly, was in there to prompt that response... But the whole thing has mellowed down very pleasantly, now; most of the licorice is gone, and the scent is more of a warm floral -- someone mentioned blood rose, and that must be it. On the other hand, my husband swears it smells like cinnamon. Even long after, it remains a very potent scent -- and from only a miniscule application.

What an odd, lovely scent... I didn't mean to do more than sniff at this, initially, but a few drops splashed on me when opening the imp (my clumsiness is the stuff of legend), and surrounded me in such a sweet, creamy scent; not quite pineapple, not really peach, but something in between. I think I caught a slight tone of something like vanilla in there, which might have accounted for the 'creaminess'. Over the last twenty minutes or so, it's mellowed into something far milder, and a good deal less fruity. The sweetness is still there, but there's a hint of tang to it -- nothing sharp -- and the overwhelming impression is one of distant incense. Very lovely, which surprises me, as frankincense, if that's what it is, never used to suit me at all.