Malista

I have a peculiar relationship with Beth’s white musk. When fresh it entirely takes over any blend it’s in, eats all the other notes, then implodes, leaving just the faintest not-quite-me scent behind (the only way I can tell it’s the musk I’m smelling and not my natural scent). Sometimes with a little age it can be persuaded to let the other notes alone and function as a clean base for them, like a good little musk. I’m just now beginning to be able to wear Night’s Pavilion and enjoy the Nile lily sometimes. I’m seriously hoping that is what happens with Enraged Bunny Musk, because when I first apply it, it’s beautiful, sweetly green, slightly astringent without being sharp, and absolutely perfect for warm weather. I think it must be the clover or cotton blossom that lends the citrusy scent, as it doesn’t smell strong enough to be either verbena (which I adore) or lemongrass (which I dislike), and it isn’t masculine enough to be bergamot (which I like, but can’t wear if it’s a main component and/or not mixed with something very sweet and girly). Anyway, far more herbal than flowery, but sweet without being cloying. I never get to the powdery notes, because the musk revs up almost immediately, swoops in and envelops all the nice greenery and sweetness, then backs down the rabbit hole, growling, taking them with it. Within 15 minutes all I have is a faint memory of that not-quite-me clean musk. It’s nice, but there are catalog white musk scents I can get if all I want to smell like is freshly showered, or I could, you know, take a shower… I’m going to keep this bottle and let it mull quietly in a cool dark place for a few weeks or months, to see if the musk settles down and lets the other notes out to play for more than 5 minutes.

These are all favorite warm weather scents, for me. I think they’re all very clean smelling, although some of them don’t last very long with my chemistry. They’re all general catalog scents, and impable. Kumiho – white tea and ginger, crisp and clean with a little bite from the ginger Shanghai – green tea, honeysuckle and verbena, light on the honeysuckle Embalming Fluid – another green tea scent that smells very clean to me Sea of Glass – aquatic, very pretty and calm The Unicorn – floral, but not heavy, and very fresh and light White Rabbit – tea, milk, and linen with a dash of pepper. People seem to either adore it or hate it. I love it. The Dormouse – more tea, and peony, which may or may not be too floral for her. I find it very light and refreshing. And yes, Dirty would be a good one for her to try, as well. As for woody scents -- I don't have any recommendations, not because I don't like woody scents, but because I haven't tried any woody BPAL that has the same effect as pure sandalwood, and I don't know if she would like floral, fruit, spice or resin notes mixed in with the wood. Cathedral, maybe? I have no idea what Pure Grace smells like, so can't suggest any BPAL analogs.

You never know, about meeting people from other countries that you've chatted with. When I was about your age (along about the end of the last Ice Age) I had several pen pals in the UK. The summer I was 20 I made the trip over there and met all of them. We had some excellent times! I had experiences I would never have had as an unconnected tourist -- walking from Ludlow to Auchtermuchty one beautiful day because the bus didn't stop for us, eating at a café in Bognor Regis with the staff, because my pen pal worked there (the owner called me "California," and got the biggest kick out of hollering for me to pick up my meal at the service window), and going to a number of parties in everything from bed-sits to country homes. You never know when having friends in another country will come in handy. Besides, just because it seems unlikely that you'll ever meet is no reason not to have those contacts -- many firm and lifelong friendships have been conducted entirely in correspondence. Just remind your Mum there's historical precedence for "chatting with people you'll never meet."

I can say without hesitation that both the flowery and fruity notes almost everyone comments on in White Light are Spikenard. I have a drop of pure spikenard oil on one finger, White light on the back of my opposite hand, and Tzadikim Nistarim on the back of the other hand. The common scent in both Tzadikim Nistarim and White Light is the heavy, sweet, creamy, floral-fruity, almost smoky note of spikenard. White Light has, I think, a drop of frankincense that lends that lovely spice note, and something that lightens and dries the somewhat heavy spikenard (maybe sandalwood or galbanum?), but the base note is unmistakable. So much for the scent, which is beautiful and calming and deep and touches me at every level in the most fiercely wonderful way, even when applied for comparative sniffing. Used as directed, White Light is extremely effective. I suspect everyone’s experience will be different, however, so there’s not much point in describing mine. Just get some and try it for yourself.

Repost of the review the crash ate. A fine Medoc, indeed! A dark, heavy wine redolent of black cherries and currents, but very fermented and grapey, withal. Mellow woody notes with a hint of vanilla (not sweet – if you have tasted much wine you recognize the kiss of the oaken barrel, which is dry, but deep and round) keep the fruits from getting out of hand. I smell like a clumsy sommelier. For all its winey aspect this is very wearable. Not maybe to the office, where I don’t really want to smell as though I just got done with the dessert course of a very long and very late dinner, but definitely out to eat, or to parties and such-like, or just for a lovely evening at home. Montresor dries down to a dryer finish, very smooth and still fruity and oaken. The vanilla rounds it out and gives it a sort of matte luster. I really like this! I also want a morsel of cheese and a few slices of pear, now, to go with my arm.

I love, love love Beth’s white rose note! It’s one of the ones that doesn’t go bitter on me, and in fact is sweeter than any other rose note Beth uses, on me. And I love most resins – amber, frankincense, copal, oppoponax – yummy! I can even take the super-fruity-and-sweet Dragon’s Blood if it isn’t mixed with anything else too sweet. There is one resin that hates me and wants me dead, though. Myrrh. Myrrh needs to be mixed with super sweet, heavy notes (lotus will do it) if I’m to survive the experience without ending up smelling like marinade for beef, or worse. Well, it seems that one of the “soft resins” in Parlement of Foules is actually loud, rough, abrasive myrrh. Ouch! There is the beautiful white rose, indescribably light, sweet and pure, floating over a faintly spicy (is the other resin here frankincense?) bowl of savory/bitter meat rub. The throw is all rose, but as soon as my nose approaches my skin I get nothing but myrrh. Woe! Dry, the frankincense (or other spicy resin, whatever it may be) comes up a bit more, and the myrrh loses some of its rough edges. The rose has faded too much to save it, though. As an experiment I layered some Two, Five & Seven over the dry Parlement, and it became almost what I think others get from the beginning – cool roses over warm resins, although the extreme unsweetness of the myrrh is still present. Still, I don’t generally wear the blends that require layering to smell good – too much like work, and I’m the poster child for Lazy Libra. I suspect I’ll be looking for a new home for the Parlement of Foules.

I wish I got any sugar from Smut. I was expecting it to be aggressive in the bottle, because Beth said it was, but from the early reviews I figured it would be rather like Snake Charmer, on, which works on me in wonderful, not work-safe ways. Smut, on the other hand, goes on strongly and objectionably musky and just gets more sour and bitter by the minute. I have tried it twice, now, and it’s like myrrh and saffron plus something almost civety on me. We’re talking serious ‘ewwww’ here. There’s the faintest suggestion of something sugary buried under muck. I wish I knew which musk is the culprit, so I can avoid it in the future. Many blends with musk in them are fine on me – and Snake oil and Snake Charmer are genuinely terrific, for which I am deeply grateful, because my bottle of Smut is going to find a home with someone who gets all that good sweet and deep yum from it I keep hearing about. And the other bottle I have coming in my January 30 order will have to make other accommodations, as well.

Ode on Melancholy I think white musk may be in what others on this forum have taken to calling an “olfactory blind-spot” for me. More often than not any of Beth’s blends that contain it just sort of implode on my skin – I can almost hear the foop as they swallow themselves up. White rose, wisteria, lavender and sandalwood are all good on me. Lavender smells a little soapy, but in a good way. Wisteria is sweet and wistful, white rose doesn’t go bitter but stays gentle and rosy, and sandalwood was my sole fragrance of choice for most of the late ‘60s. This should have been one of the best light florals I’ve ever tried, and for about a minute and a half it was. I get all the notes, superbly blended albeit faint as though struggling through a thick veil, with that clean skin underlay which is my only olfactory hint that white musk is present, then – foop! A faint lingering aura of white rose about four inches from my skin seems to have escaped the implosion, but that goes, too, within 15 minutes. I smell freshly bathed and completely neutral, which I suppose means I reek of white musk. Himself says he can smell the barest whiff of sandalwood if he presses his nose right against my wrist, but no more, and actually much less, scent than would be left if I had showered and scrubbed with one of my sandalwood soaps. I might make a linen/body spray from this, as it’s effectively a “clean” scent on me, and in the summer there are days when that would be about all the perfume I could stand. But I will probably give the bottle to my boss, who can wear white musk., and loves light florals.

Lick It! This is probably my favorite in a wide field of extraordinary Yule scents this year, which surprises me because I usually go for the deep, complex blends. There’s just something about the smell of a candy cane, though, that makes me grin and lifts my spirits, and Lick It! is the exact scent of a really good candy cane. Not too sweet, not too vanillary, not Curiously Strong peppermint – just a perfect blend. It doesn’t change dramatically when it hits my skin – still perfect candy caneness. As it dries down the peppermint fades, as mints are wont to do, but never completely disappears, so the ultimate dry down is a rich, warm vanilla with faint peppermint blended in. It lasts for hours on my skin. Lick It!, BTW, makes a superior solid lotion bar, and I suspect would be fabulous as a shampoo and conditioner. It’s also an oddly soothing sleep scent, and lingers until the morning, on me.

Mitzvah smells like creme brulee on me. This is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a very, very good thing. I love the cream-and-caramel scent of a good creme brulee, and have no objection whatsoever to smelling like dessert. It's got a powerful throw, initially -- Himself could smell it from 6 feet away, and said "Caramel!" in an enthusiastic tone -- and dries down to closer to a second skin scent, although still foody and warm and distinct. The scent doesn't morph on my skin, just sort of settles in and stays for hours. I'm going to make a solid lotion bar out of this; for before bed use, and for days when I need a little extra comforting at work. I think it would make a great bath melt, too, but I don't want to use that much on a single application. I'm going to make this bottle last as long as I can, and cry when it's gone, so I will!

For many years all I wore was pure sandalwood oil -- traditionally a very masculine note. I wear a lot of wood notes, still, although my taste in perfume is all over the map, and I'm just as likely to turn up wearing something floriental and lushly femme, or something foody, as something woodsy or leathery. I fit my scent to my mood and the occasion. I don't really care what other people think, as long as they aren't having an allergy attack from whatever I'm wearing.

Blood Moon This is my birth moon, and except for Storm Moon I have gotten along exceptionally well with all the Lunacy blends I have tried. I tend not to worry about the Lunacies because the chances of my two arch nemeses, myrrh and saffron, showing up are slim. Early reviews supported my optimism; I get along well with spices (except saffron), sandalwood and musk, and pretty much anything that smells like vanilla. So, what is this sharp, unpleasant note that comes at me out of the bottle? Smells remarkably like myrrh. Uh oh. Wet on: Cinnamon, but with something else that makes the cinnamon smell almost like cumin. Whatever the ingredient is that smelled so sharp in the bottle is not letting up, and is sucking any sweetness there might have been to this blend right out. It almost smells like civet. Drying: More of the same. Just sharp, dry, bitter-to-sour cumin-civet and, well, that’s it, really. No sandalwood, no musks that I recognize as such, no vanilla, no grains, no woods, no lunar oils. Man, it’s my birth moon. I would have settled for "Meh"; I was totally unprepared for a wash-off. I’m going to keep it and try it again when I’ve finished this short-term asthma medication I started a week ago, as it may well be affecting my skin chemistry or even my sense of smell, but I’m not really holding out much hope. Either there is a really unfortunate interaction between one of the musks and the sandalwood, or there is myrrh in this. Either way, unless something radical happens with my chemistry, I can’t wear this. Guess I’ll just have to soldier on with the 80 or 90 scents that do work with my chemistry. ::heavy sigh::

Namaste does the oddest things on my skin. I don't get the sandalwood nor the jasmine at all, just very strong and not very pleasant lemon grass and cedar, with the unfortunate bitter note that about half of BPAL roses turn on me. My skin does tend to amp bitter notes and suppress sweet ones, but this is the first time jasmine has never appeared for me! SO many BPAL blends work so well on my skin I suppose I shouldn't lament the ones that don't. I love the philosophy embodied in the word "Namaste," though, and would have loved this to work. Chalk it up to Weird Adventures in Skin Chemistry. ::sigh::

I would have loved Scarecrow to smell like hay! I do get a faint whiff of that at the very start, but alas! Mostly this is just acrid on me -- actually burns the back of my throat, and nothing sweet or woodsy or hay-ish about it. I wanted a hay scent! On Himself, who usually brings out much different notes than I do, it's basically the same. Oh, well. So many BPALs work for us, I guess we can't complain when our chemistries reject one. I wouldn't go by our experience, here; so many people get good things from Scarecrow, I think you need to try it for yourself. I can imp you up.

Bengal Deer Lowered, this is beautiful! Honey doesn’t go extra sweet on my skin – I tend to suppress sweet and amp bitter – so honey notes are quite complex and somewhat astringent on me, but still sweet enough to be easily identifiable. Here the honey and spices (fairly evenly balanced ginger and cinnamon, slightly less clove, and a nice bite of pepper) all work together to make a warm, golden-reddish-brown scent that goes nicely with my hair. The musk anchors and smooth’s the blend. It doesn’t change much on me except to become less enthusiastic as to throw as it dries down (wet, the throw is quite ferocious). It does smell almost exactly like the chai I drink, which is made with tulsi (holy basil). Like the tulsi chai, I find it both energizing and calming, and foresee a great deal of use over the Winter months. I bought a 10ml bottle of Bengal on the strength of a single wearing from a frimp, and I am not sorry.

Jack worried me a little. In the imp it was very, very sweet. I was worried about smelling too sweet, too much like pumpkin puree, or both. I needn’t have been concerned. My skin tends to suppress sweetness to some degree so even lotus doesn’t go cloying on me, and it appears that pumpkin is a sort of neutral note, on my skin, being more rich, warm and foody in an indeterminate way than jack-o-lanterny or pie-ish. On my skin the spices and peach come out more strongly than any of the other notes. I suppose there’s a buttery undertone, but it, like the pumpkin, just adds a sumptuous sort of richness to the blend rather than being distinct enough to identify. Jack on me is a thick, spiced peach scent, very warm and golden-orange and supremely comfortable in that bring-it-on-nothing-will-ruffle-my-feathers-today kind of way that comes in very handy at the office more often than seems quite fair. I feel as close to motherly as I am ever likely to get when I’m wearing Jack – a shiny-copper-pots-and-pans-and-something-wonderful-in-the-oven vibe. I have no objection to smelling as though I have been making spiced peach cobbler all day – quite the contrary. An added bonus is that Beth’s foody scents seem to satisfy actual food cravings, and I’m far less likely to snack when I wear them. Jack is no exception. I can’t wait for a gray day in the low 50s to really put Jack through his paces as a comfort-and-warmth scent. Along with Samhain (which is far less domestic but no less rich and evocative), this is a perfect autumnal blend for me – a suede boots and chenille jacket sort of scent. Yummy! (Layering note: Jack and Three Witches are feisty but still comfortable. I’ll bet Chimera would work well, too.)

Opoponax is also known as "sweet myrrh," and on me it is. Many of Beth's myrrh blends go bitter/savory and loud on me, but two of them -- Bastet and Chimera, are among my all time favorites, and I never would have known they contained myrrh if I hadn't read the ingredients. Same with the discontinued Bruja, which I love. There are others that have surprised me, too, such as Medea, which is dark and incensey but delicious on me. I know there must be different formulations called "myrrh," but I also think it has to do with what other notes are in the blend, and how they interact. I can't ever predict, so if I the other listed notes are things I like and know work on me, I'm apt to give it a try, and just hold the thought that the myrrh may ruin it for me, so I don't get surprised if it doesn't work.

Fire Eater Just on: It smells … flammable. Peppery, maybe; slightly floral but not really; a little fumy, but not like gasoline or kerosene, really; red, certainly. I know that doesn’t help. Drying: I get a whole lot of strangely familiar but extremely elusive impressions. This is almost sweet, but not quite, faintly spicy, but not in the usual way. Carnation, maybe? Wood of some sort, but not pine, cedar, fir, sandalwood, oak … is that juniper, perhaps? Feels like it might be juniper, on the tip of my tongue where I sometimes taste scents that are absorbed through my skin. Something warm and smooth down underneath, like the gel fire-eaters use to protect their mouths and faces from burns. Not that I know what that smells like, but that’s the impression I get. I’m sure there is light musk in this, because it is all disappearing very quickly, with that fuzzy sort of after-scent that is usually all I get from white musk. All that is left within 10 minutes is a faintly spiced vanishing musk, melting rapidly into my own skin scent, and a tingling at the tip of my tongue. A pity, because what I smelled I quite liked; a scent not just in the common way, with a great deal of interest to it. Oh, well. I’ll try cushioning it in some lotion and see if that makes a difference, or use it in a scent locket. Or find someone whose skin doesn’t kidnap light musk and pretty much every note embedded in it.

Fresh on I get the ginger, elemi and balsam, which, while they have a slight sharpness to them initially, are generally more sweet than medicinal (or I have a much different idea of “medicinal” than most of the reviewers so far). Tobacco (slightly sweet, faintly spicy, smooth and warm) and rosewood join the party to add more warmth and depth to the blend. The opium isn’t a strong note in this, for me, but I think it adds a bit of extra spice and dark resins on the dry down. This ends up, on me, as a warm golden-brown sort of scent with a slight citrus-like tang (no doubt the ginger in one of its many clever disguises) over all the woods and resins. It’s more like an environmental scent than perfume – not in the Room Scent way, but as though one worked with aromatic things that loaned their scents to ones clothing and skin, over time. I can see where some would find this scent masculine. To me it’s aggressively gender neutral not fluffy-bunny femme, but not macho, either. It’s an assertive scent (not powdery or wispy), but it doesn’t have a powerful throw. I think it’s a casual to business casual scent, more outright casual for me; like Geek, this is a blue jeans and boots scent. A guy would likely be just as comfortable wearing it with a suit (or at least a sport jacket) as with jeans and a t-shirt.

I wasn’t terribly sure about Geek. I reckoned that any scent that would portray someone who bites heads off chickens and eats bugs for a living wasn’t likely to be any more “me” than an ultra-girly floral blend, but I have to try everything I’m not allergic to, and the notes, with the exception of cedar, which my skin usually amps to ridiculous levels, and pine, to which I am slightly allergic, seemed like they would be OK, or even really good. Besides, I ordered the Odditorium, so it was right here in front of me. Just applied: Surprisingly nice! Woodsy without being either pencil shavings or Pine Sol – fresh, even, with something faintly sweet in the background (probably the opoponax, which tends to be sweet on me). The mosses must be controlling the woods. The cinnamon is gently spicy and probably adds to the sweetness. I get no leather. Drying: Just keeps getting sweeter, in a non-sickly kind of way. The other notes, even the cedar, weave in and out, never fighting each other. Here a whiff of cedar, there a hint of pine needles, a little grass, creamy patchouli, lovely cinnamon. I still don’t get leather, but there is a suggestion of soft musk. No sharp edges to this scent, and while it has a more aggressive throw than many BPAL oils on me, nothing overwhelming about it. I consider this to be a totally unisex blend, very comfortable on me, but I’d love to smell it on Himself, as well. Dry: three or four hours after applying this settles down to a woodsy, sweet scent with a breath of cedar (sweet, not dry) floating over the top, about three inches above my skin. I get the same sort of feel from Geek that I do from Lush’s Tramp shower gel (although they do not smell the same at all). Geek is, on me, a fresh, outdoorsy sort of scent – a blue jeans, fringed leather jacket and boots sort of scent. I can see wearing this to run errands, meet someone for lunch, go to the museum or botanical gardens or Muir Woods, picnic in the park, work in the garden, or browse in the bookstore or library. I doubt I will wear it to work, but only because it would remind me all day of the things I would rather be doing. I don’t think I need more than this one bottle, but I’m considering whether it would make a good Yule present for a friend of mine who has the same sort of casual style as this blend. I also think it would make an outstanding shower gel or massage bar for women or men. So, maybe I do need an extra bottle.

I thought Bearded Lady might be too floral on me. I don’t mind florals, but they aren’t terribly “me” most of the time, which means I don’t need more than one or two in my arsenal, and Ace of Hearts is my current floral blend of choice for days when I think I can carry it off. On my skin the vanilla carries this blend. Whatever else comes out, the vanilla is a constant, rich presence. It’s my opinion that one can never have too many vanilla-based scents, which makes this one an automatic keeper unless something goes horribly wrong. A few minutes after applying, I’m getting a soft, beautifully blended floral bouquet lightly dusted all over with powdery, not-too-sweet violet. Someone has tucked well-aged vanilla pods in among the flowers. Mmmmm! This phase lasts for a very long time. At some point the amber appears and, together with the vanilla, warms up the cool floral notes without distorting them at all. A few hours later I have a soft vanilla and amber skin scent with a faint powdery violet finish. Very beautiful, very refined, but not at all stuffy or humorless. One would probably find oneself consciously trying to walk and gesture with more grace than usual, wearing this, but not necessarily minding ones manners more than that. A good scent to wear when Euterpe drops by with two lines of a sonnet and I need to find the rest of it, but great for the office or a nice evening out, as well (I never wear purely floral scents out to dinner – they clash with the food smells – but the vanilla in Bearded Lady makes it “dineable,” for me, without being foody in itself). This is a two-bottle scent for me. I need to make linen spray (which I often use on my clothes and hair) and put some in solid perfume form in a nice silver locket. I’m so glad I got this in time to order another bottle!

I've never had this problem. I'd almost suspect it's something with your e-mail provider possibly blocking the e-mails as spam, or a mistyped e-mail address, but of course I can't know, not having been there. Since they seem to have processed your orders each time, it might be irritating, but it doesn't sound like a really serious problem, although of course not knowing whether they actually have your order is worrying. I don't know what to suggest, since it's not something that has happened to me.

I thought someone had mentioned Beltane, uptopic, which is actually what made me think of adding the Harvet festivals as rounding out the cycle. It was prolly in one of the pruned posts, so I'm glad you added it. Any list of Fertility celebrations looks pretty silly without Beltane.

I’ve always associated the Harvest with celebrations of fertility, as well as the Spring celebrations. Planting and harvest are all part of the same process. So I would include on the list: Lughnasadh Mabon Samhain Harvest Moon I know some had issues with various notes in the Harvest oils, but the last three (I haven’t tried Lughnasadh, but there’s plenty of Mother imagery in the tradition) are to me just full-to-bursting with that sense of abundance and nurture that is the result of the generosity of Mother Earth. I would second Byrdie’s suggestion of Eden, as well, because of the Eve association, and because the fig has a strong traditional fertility association, and in particular a female one. I suspect Fruit Moon belongs on the list, as well (depending on which notes Beth uses, and what association one has with them); I was just looking at my apple and pear trees today, and thinking that nothing looks quite so abundant and fertile as a tree loaded with ripening fruit, and especially the rounded, fecund female shapes of apples and pears. Oh, and maybe add Jack to the list – pumpkins and peaches; more children of the bountiful Earth. Also, Nuit, since she was one of the Egyptian goddesses associated with Things Maternal.

Grog Hot buttered rum! The only morphing this scent does on me is, sometimes there’s more butter, and sometimes there’s more rum, but it’s always hot buttered rum. I’m thinking I should buy a few bottles of this and decant imps for the folks that work in the ale stands at the Dickens Christmas Fair (and Pickwick Comic Annual) every year. Especially those who work at Mad Sal’s (if it’s still called that), the lower class establishment, which works very hard at creating a boozy, bawdy atmosphere. When I worked the fairs we were always looking for period or atmospheric scents, and Grog seems about perfect. For me? I have no idea when I will think it’s appropriate to wear this, but I’m going to find reasons. It makes me grin, and it’s warm, sweet-but-not-too-sweet, and boozy and fun. Actually, to bed might not be a bad idea, and I’m wondering if this wouldn’t make a really good winter body butter or massage bar.