elphaba

I have to admit, I was a bit nervous wearing Nanshe. The night before, I'd had an inexplicable stress dream (I couldn't think of anything in my life that I was stressed about) and I worried that Nanshe would bring on another one if that was truly where my subconscious wanted to be. I put it on anyway, figuring that the fact I got it as a frimp from the lab must be a sign from the universe. Nanshe smells like a sharper version of the Badger Sleep Balm I have to calm down my hyper toddler, so I'm guessing they have some notes in common. I think the sharp lemony scent that predominates is bergamot, but I know others have guessed lemon or lemongrass as well. Suffice it to say, it's lemony. Very lemony. I could barely smell the lavender at all on my skin, although I could definitely smell it in the bottle. I actually slept quite well. I know I had a lot of dreams, but I don't remember any of them. It was nice, though, that even though I dreamed and I remember dreaming, they didn't seem to disturb my sleep at all, which is unusual. I was quite well-rested this morning. Guess I had no reason to worry. That being said, I think I'll be trading Nanshe. The lemony/bergamot smell was actually a bit unpleasant for me (although it might be more true to the bottle on a pillowcase or sheet) and I already have a product that does the trick for good, restful sleep. I just didn't love it enough to keep it.

I'm surprised that I got no lemon from this, as my chemistry usually amps up lemon in anything. Instead, it smelled like anise and mint and stayed through pretty much through the entire length of the fragrance (fairly short, maybe three hours). The very last lingering vestige is a subtle smell of real licorice and herbs (think those Panda bars that are brown when you bite into them.) Luckily for me, I like anise and mint a lot, so this one is a keeper.

I believe BPAL does use nut oils in some scents (almond is the one that immediately comes to mind) but I also know that Beth is very good about helping you to isolate any potentially bad allergens. I'd suggest picking out some scents and emailing the lab before ordering to ask about the specific ingredients you're allergic to. Edited to add, there is an FAQ on allergies and another specifically on nut oils.

Other reviewers were dead-on when they said to give this one about ten minutes to develop. When I first put on, the almonds were strong and bitter, but I held out and oh my god, was it worth the wait. Just resist the urge and don't smell yourself for ten minutes. Seriously. It's not that long And then...wow. The almonds recede and become a dry, nutty note in the background of all these gorgeous, sweet spices. It's what I wanted out of Morocco and didn't get because I was distracted by the musk. It truly is the scent of the desert breeze in a Middle Eastern spice market. My only complaint is that the scent really doesn't waft much for me. I'm hoping it's just nose exhaustion and I'll catch a sniff at the most unexpected time once I forget I have it on. I might have to apply it more heavily or wait for a warmer day (it's in the low 50s here). As an aside, the first time I wore this, I had a trace of Snake Oil leftover from the previous night. The sweetness turns the almonds into marzipan. Not a hint of bitterness.

Oh, I think I'm going to cry. I had all these visions of swimming in sea of milk with ginger and honey and the sweet scent of pollen in the air. It's just not happening. At least it was an education. I am now familiar with the dreaded descriptor, "soapy." Sudha Segara's transformation is instantaneous on me and it's not good at all. It's the smell of the stuff you pump out of the hand pumps in a public restroom...or those little shell-shaped soaps that people put out on their vanities and never use. It's not offensive, but it's not pretty either. And this smells so nice in the bottle, with a gorgeous ginger bite and a sweet, milky undercurrent. I've tried it twice now, hoping it would work, but alas. So sad. Stupid skin.

For a dark chocolate scent, I'd recommend Centzon Totochtin. It's very dark chocolate with red wine and rum, not buttery at all.

I bought Namaste for the name and wore it with the indirect translation in my head, "The Divine in me recognizes and bows down to the Divine in you." With that in mind, I expected Namaste to be bright, humble, and at the same time exhibit a yogic serenity. On my skin, it was two out of the three. I got a bright lemon (lemongrass?) scent fading eventually into a soft, humble sandalwood, but I wouldn't call it serene or calming in any sense. I was actually surprised to read the list of notes after wearing it because I didn't get any of the softness that I'd expect from jasmine and rose. It had two very clear phases and faded quickly once those were past (a couple of hours). Normally, I'm not turned off by this kind of clarity in a scent, but neither the lemongrass nor the sandalwood were notes that I'm particularly in love with, so this will not become a yoga blend for me as I had hoped.

Pink Moon was much less sweet than I'd anticipated. I'm not sure why, but I thought it would smell like spun sugar and honey and it didn't at all. It was actually much more true to its origin. Almost immediately on it hitting my skin, I could smell carpets of pink phlox. The sugar was there in the background, but it definitely wasn't the prominent scent. It was almost as if the sugar was there to help bring out the natural sweetness of the flowers, like an ingredient in a recipe. Unfortunately for me, there was some ingredient in Pink Moon that was an allergy trigger for me. Every time I tried to really sniff it, my nose would itch or my eyes would water or I'd sneeze. I'm thinking that might have been the dogwood, since I know that's a common hay fever culprit. I don't think I would have loved the scent if I didn't have that reaction, but the allergy cinched it for me. I'm very glad I had only an imp of this.

I'll put in another recommendation for Tenochtitlan. I'm wearing it right now and I can't overstate how very perfectly southwestern it smells.

I have yet to meet a Wanderlust scent that I didn't like at least a little bit. They're just so evocative. Every single one makes me want to pack up a rucksack, sling it over my shoulder and take off to see the world. Tenochtitlan is no exception. I added it to my wishlist on a whim and ivyandpeony was kind enough to send it along as a gift. I had no idea I would love it so much! This smells like the desert--not the Arabian desert that first comes to mind when I say the word. There are no camels or exotic spices here. This is the southwestern desert and it's beautiful. My mother-in-law is a xeriscape gardener and my father-in-law is a flower photographer. They often take trips to Death Valley during wildflower season to photograph/document the amazing desert flowers in bloom. Tenochtitlan reminds me of the slides they bring back. It's a desert like I've never imagined before - glorious in the way that plump cactuses and bright flowers manage to survive and even thrive in the dryest of dry conditions. The life that flourishes there is made even more beautiful by the barrenness of its surroundings. Tenochtitlan is glorious in the same way. It's the unexpected green scent when you break off a piece of cactus, the scent of oddly delicate-looking desert wildflowers on a warm wind, the herby scent of those scrubby bushes that turn into tumbleweeds in the fall. It's a keeper.

I found Tenochtitlan to be that way, but instead of a field of rolling grasses, it put me in a southwestern desert in the early spring.

The first thing that comes to mind wearing this is "soft." It's like a feather pillow or a cashmere blanket. I do smell the sandalwood that others have mentioned but it's the smell of wood when it's been sanded and sanded until the finish is like peach fuzz. I think part of what will make Tushnamatay a good meditation blend is that the scent is very light, but also very present. You actually have to concentrate to catch the throw, but it's definitely there. You could easily close your eyes, let your mind focus in on this scent like you would a mantra, and shut out the rest of the world. I have yet to try it in the oil burner, but I suspect it will be better there or dabbed onto a pillow than as a personal scent.

Oh my. I love this so much I'm almost at a loss for words. It's sweet and sexy and the description is perfect. You know the part in Western movies where the bad guy is in the brothel with his lover and the good guy bursts in and a gunfight ensues with the combatants ducking and covering around the four-poster bed? Bordello is how that lover smells, the one who is rushing to cover up with the sheet and feigning surprise, but really was the one to betray the villain in the first place and expected this all along. And even knowing that she betrayed him? I'll bet that black-hatted gunslinger still wants to bury his face in her breasts. I want to bury my face in her breasts...and I'm a straight woman. Bordello is just that good.

I've yet to encounter a BPAL where I didn't like the final drydown at least a little and Red Queen is no exception. When it's dry, it's a subtle blend of cherries and what smells to me like cedar (the mahogany, I assume). It smells like a exquisite, commanding, sweetly perfumed woman sitting in a wood-paneled library and I like it. You can't help but listen to someone wearing this. Wet, though...ugh. Wet, this smells like wood varnish. My husband actually sniffed my arm, screwed up his nose, and said, "Oh my god! Who would want to smell like that?" The varnish smell is worst in the bottle, but it hangs around on the skin for a bit and the payoff is just not worth it for me. It sounds like others see the transformation into something beautiful happen a lot more quickly than it did for me, so I'll leave this one to those for whom it works.

TUHLZ-chuh On a related note, I found this nifty pronunciation guide for Cthulhu mythos creatures.

A maddeningly festive blend of warm, buttery rum, cocoa, coconut, vanilla and a jolt of peppermint. It’s a sweet, decadent, slightly silly scent, reminiscent of rum-laced holiday cookies. I'm so glad I got to try this! In the bottle, it smells like a chocolate mint liqueur, but that's nothing like how it smells on my skin. It is coconut and cocoa powder and it is lovely. It doesn't have a lot of throw for me, but burying my nose in my wrist, it's just a wonderful, comfortable dark brown scent. And speaking of dark brown, I know it sounds crazy, but the first time I wore this, I spent the afternoon working in the garden and came in smelling of Spooky and rich, black compost. It was really wonderful and brought out a very different, darker aspect of the scent than the normal coconutty cookies. It makes me wish I had some earth scents in my collection so I could experiment with layering dirt and chocolate.

I always give new scents a second chance, but Mata Hari barely skidded by even on her second opportunity. The first time I put this on, it smelled like fig. Fig, fig, and more fig. Sickly sweet fig and I didn't like it at all. I probably would have given up entirely if this were named something like "Fig Garden," but I love Mata Hari and really wanted this blend to work on me. The second time around, she was a little more successful. I still didn't like the wet scent - heavy fig and flowers this time with something just...odd...underneath. That must have been the coffee. Holding on through the dry-through, though, it ended up quite nice and still very unique. I liked the floral being supported by the coffee instead of something more usual like musk, but I would have been much more happy with something with only those lower notes. I'll probably give this one up, despite the great name.

Centzon Totochtin doesn't want me to get too comfortable. In the vial, I'm very unsure of the scent. It smells odd given the lab description, like some sort of nut liqueur. I put it on anyway because I'm entranced by the idea of drunk chocolate rabbits. I just...don't know what to think. Every time I start to mellow into the lovely, spicy chocolate and wine, a metallic tang, the blood, hits my nose and reminds me that this party is dangerous. It makes me uncomfortable, but it's also what makes this scent interesting. I probably won't be buying a big bottle of this, but I'm not sure I'll be able to give up my imp either.

Today is the first real hot day of summer here and it's probably the absolute worst time for Tintagel, but it just arrived in the mail and I couldn't resist. Of the three imps in my package, this one was the first to immediately jump out at me -- bright red in color with a warm, spicy scent. I immediately recognize the berry-sweet BPAL wine note from Lady Macbeth, but it's spicier in Tintagel and I like it better. On my skin, I can smell the juniper and a dry note that I'm pretty sure is the leather. I love it. I was wary of the "musky heat" from the description, but either I'm not getting that note at all or it's being disguised by the natural scent of my skin in this warm weather. I'm very glad of that. Really, I'm pleasantly surprised by everything about this scent. The final drydown is sweet and spicy, but not at all in the Christmasy way that I expected. It really does smell like an Arthurian feast hall. It feels large and joyful rather than close and homey. My only complaint is that it's fairly short-lived on me. After about two hours, I really have to bury my nose deep in my wrist to find that last bit of sweetness. It's worth it. I'll be interested to try it again in the fall.

I got this as a frimp from the Lab, which was nice because Funereal Oils is the one section of the site I haven't really delved into at all. My friend and I both had the same experience on trying Darkness. We put it on, wore it for a bit, decided we didn't really like it, and promptly had someone compliment us on how beautiful we smelled. In my case, the compliment came from the friend who had already decided she didn't like it. I think, in this case, it was less a matter of body chemistry than of the throw being more lovely than the scent close to the skin. And, oh, does Darkness have throw. True to its name, it envelops you in a haze of opium incense. It smells like a head shop I used to frequent in college. The opium was the dominant note for me but there was something else, something bitter, that hung closer to my skin. It was so overwhelming that it made food I ate taste bad...and this is a feat, because I'm not sensitive to bitter flavors. Was that the myrrh? I always thought I liked myrrh. Now I don't know. Overall, Darkness was just too heavy for me. It is a scent that closes you in and shields you from the world in a protective opium cloud. I can understand the appeal of that some days, but the underlying bitterness was more than I could handle. I'm not goth enough for Darkness.

Lady Macbeth is very juicy grape on me.

A gift from the Lab! I finally decided to try Nero on myself because my chances of getting it onto my husband within any reasonable timeframe are looking slim, unless I just attack him from behind with an imp wand. Believe me, I've been tempted. Nero has the distinction of being the only blend that has ever faded more quickly in the protected area under my watch and bracelets than on the wrist that was exposed to the air. I'm not sure what that means, but it was interesting. I had a really hard time picking out notes once this one hit my skin. In the bottle, it was strong pine, but once applied, it became a very well-blended masculine scent. I spent some time with my nose in my spice cabinet, hoping to pick up the bay and rosemary, but everything swirled together in a way that meant I couldn't isolate any one element. There was something dark, something sweet. Once, I caught a whiff of lemon, but it only happened once. What I can't overstate is how very manly this scent was. It felt all-wrong on me, but I think I'd love it on a guy. Because the lemon was so fleeting, it definitely felt like a winter oil. It's a scent that would linger on a guy's heavy wool sweater that you borrowed so you could put it on the next day and smell like him.

I bought a 5mL of this unsniffed on my first order. It was the tea that made me want it. I'm a tea junkie and was hoping for strong, pungent smell of green tea leaves. That's not at all what The Dormouse is and it's taken me some time to get over my disappointment. The Dormouse is green tea with lemon and sugar, drunk out of china classes at a haphazardly-set table in the garden. For me, it's quite lemony at first. Perhaps whatever dormouse made my drink didn't like tea so much and added a lot of lemon and sugar to disguise the taste. It's not lemonade, though, because while I'm drinking the mixture, he's insistently pushing a bouquet of peonies under my nose and saying, "Smell this! Don't you like this? They smell nice, don't they?" The wet phase is chaos. Something strange happens after about fifteen minutes with this blend. It disappears. It's as if, fed up with the mad tea party, I yell, "Stop! Everyone, just stop!" and they do. It only lasts a few minutes and then the scent starts rising up again, but it's more subdued. There's still a bit of chaos there. It can't help it, but you can tell everyone is trying very hard to hold their cups correctly and put in the proper amount of lemon and sugar and leave the peonies in a basket on the table. It's not what I expected, but I like it. It makes me feel alive, if just a wee bit exasperated.

Amsterdam is the essence of spring for me. It's more a sunny spring morning in a garden next to some running water than a dance in the rain, though.

I got this as a freebie on my first order. It's something I probably wouldn't have tried on my own, so thank you lab for expanding my horizons. In the bottle, this was very violetty. I didn't get a whole lot of vanilla or gardenia, but I suspect that, to my nose, those ingredients are blending in to support the fundamental sweet, floral nature of the violet. Like Lucretia in her earlier review, I couldn't help but think of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory once I got some of this on my skin. It was so very, very violet. It doesn't take much of this oil to get the point across at all. Actually, it was pretty overwhelming the first time I wore it. I don't think I was ready for this as one of my first BPALs. When it's finally dry, it reminds me of the old-fashioned Choward's violet candy, which I could seriously sniff all day. The vanilla really comes out on the drydown and that's what makes this scent for me. I like it a lot more than I expected to in the initial stages, but personality-wise, it's just not me. It does make me crave violet candy, though. I almost can't bear to keep smelling this without tasting some.