oakmoss

HeavenlyRabbit said above that this is violet for people who don't do violet. If you DO do violet, like I do, this may be a bit of a disappointment. I'm getting a very faint whiff of violet somewhere in the background, but it's clearly been bound and gagged by the other notes and is barely able to squeak out its violetosity. The brusque quality is there, though -- this is a rough around the edges, dusty-musty scent, rather brown and dry. It's not UNpleasant, I'm just not sure if it's actually pleasant. I'll wear it a few more times and see if the violet manages to wiggle free of the gag.

WOW, that was quick. Thanks so much!

So, I'm cleaning up my database, and under Bewitching Brews I have a perfume listed called Debauchery, but the description is for Dee (which is right below it), so I went looking for Debauchery at the Lab and here in reviews, and can't find it anywhere. My database says I own a bottle and an imp, but that's just more delusion on my part. Can anyone clue me?

I didn't get much scent at all in the bottle, which surprised me, since the other BPAL bath oils I've tried have been very strong indeed in the bottle. I put in three small squirts (maybe a tablespoon) and it was more than enough, filling the bathroom (and beyond!) with scent. Alas, the only word I could come up with for Ysabel's bath is "perfumey" -- I couldn't differentiate the carnation or the frankincense (who of my fave notes) at all. It wasn't unpleasantly perfumey, but I did spend most of my bath trying to figure out what I was smelling. As always with BPAL baths, it dispersed beautifully and felt great on my skin. I dabbed on Ysabel's perfume when I got out, and they do indeed go well together. I'll certainly use this oil, but may try to combine it with something else to amp the incense or the carnation or.... something other than "perfume."

My skin usually amps jasmine, so I was cautious about applying this, but I needn't have worried. Spicy sweet in the bottle, it became the most perfect lemon EVER on my skin. I know everyone always compares everything lemon to Lemon Pledge, which I see as a tribute to all the dusting their mothers must have done. Maybe my mom didn't dust enough, but my lemon association for this perfume is the reincarnation of Love's Fresh Lemon that I loved as a teenager back in the 18th century. Sweet fresh lemon with just a touch of vanilla. It stayed that way for about half an hour, then completely -- I mean, completely -- morphed with a poof into something softly floral, just a whisper, and then it was gone. It was like lemonlemonlemonlemonfloralgone, within an hour. I'll apply more next time, and see what happens, but maybe this is just one of those ephemeral things, like the sweet moments that inspired Beth to create it.

A really lovely resin blend, though as others have said, it has very little throw, and on my skin is practically gone within two hours. The cedar adds a little sharpness to the softness of the other notes, but not enough to be pencil shavings. The blend this most reminds me of is Brown Jenkins, which is one of my faves. The Bat has sharper teeth, but they are small. This is still a very comforting scent and should age beautifully.

I hadn't worn this in a long time and dabbed some on as I went to bed. Lying there reading and huffing my wrist, I could not identify the notes other than perhaps something like red currant to give it that juicy note others have mentioned -- I actually had to get out of bed and get my perfume book to check out the notes. For notes that sound so dry when listed, this is a deliciously succulent blend, and one that is going to the top of my rotation list again.

Just got a frimp of Amsterdam, which I hadn't tried in years, and was pleasantly surprised how much it evokes lily of the valley, even though its notes are actually tulips, peony, fresh flowing water and crisp green grasses. Give it a try!

My own notes about Ashlultum say "dirty perfume" -- the musk completely overpowered any hint of lilac for me. Body chemistry is a mysterious thing!

In the bottle, all I could smell was a rather harsh bitter chocolate scent. On first application, and for the first few minutes, my impression was of a sort of "dirty" violet -- not chocolatey at all, but with an overtone of dirt, as if the violets were pushing up through dusty earth. And they emerged! A lovely rich sweet violet scent, lightly sugared. If you love violets, you will want to try this one, and don't be scared off by the chocolate note or the threat of foodiness. I am not a foody fan at all, but this going to be a favorite, I know.

The most lily-of-the-valley scent I've found (and I've tried just about everything in the GC at least) is.... Squirting Cucumber. Depending on how impressionable you are to scent names, you might have to psych yourself out of thinking it smells like cucumber, but really, it has a light and sweet and very fresh lily of the valley scent. Get an imp, check it out!

A ceremonial blend used to help you find your center, recover and maintain internal balance, and to align yourself and your consciousness with the divine. I used this blend for the first time today after receiving communication from someone who was quite angry with me, for things that I had tried my best to resolve to her satisfaction. The communication threw me off balance, to say the least, and from this place of shakiness and self-doubt, I happened to open my perfume cabinet and see Middle Pillar. Anointing my wrists and my heart chakra, I felt my energies calm and align again, grounding in a way that felt very much like the image of the High Priestess in the RWS tarot deck. The issues with the angry woman fell back into perspective, and with each inhale of the oil's fragrance, I felt more myself, more in tune with what is real and what is illusion. My sense of my own integrity and worth truly did feel realigned, almost instantly. The scent is a light powdery floral, with a soft rose note at the top. As it warmed on my skin, it smelled like rose incense -- rosy, but with a spicy dryness underneath. This is definitely something you could wear in "real life" as well as in ceremonial settings. It will be one I reach for often!

I know you aren't actually looking for Camay itself, but just in case anyone else wants it for comparison purposes, you can find it through the Vermont Country Store.

Yummy amber-cocoa goodness in the bottle, Plastic Powder of Doom on my skin. I'm not losing hope, though, as my bottle of Velvet has aged so magnificently, I'm going to hope Gelt does the same. This time next year, it could be wonderful!

I put on some of my 2005 bottle last night and was swooning with how beautiful it is. It was gorgeous to start, but aged, oh my. For the first time, I caught a tiny hint of fresh forest within the heady incense, as if this cathedral is deep within a winter wood and someone opened the door for a moment on a snowy night. Not pine-y sharp like other snow-winter blends, just a touch of something living, a wreath of Yuletide boughs laid on the altar, perhaps. I just love love love this blend. A masterpiece, truly, and one I hope keeps on developing new nuances over the years.

They are wonderful indeed. I wish she had done the illustrations for the book itself -- I really don't care for the Dave McKean drawings.

I spritzed two quick poofs of this on my bed pillows last night, went off to watch TV in the other room for a couple of hours, and forgot all about it until I came to bed. I have an antique iron bed, very high, so I have to use a bed-step to get up into it, and it has a rather low net canopy and curtains all around. I've never thought of my bed this way before, but when my head hit the pillows and I smelled the L'Autunno spray, I was instantly transported to a gypsy wagon! The exotic perfume, the autumn woods at night, the campfire smoke -- I could practically hear the gypsy violin, the laughter and voices, and the jingle of a tambourine or two. I've used the spray once or twice before, but not since autumn arrived. Maybe I was just in the mood, but truly, this is one of the most evocative BPAL experiences I've had. I hope I can repeat it!

As others have said, this blend is a real morpher. In the bottle, delicious. On my skin, not so much. I'm beginning to think that musk and opium are always deal-breakers for me. When I read reviews that use the word "sophisticated" I am generally in trouble. On dry-down, Lady Lilith became very grown-up-lady perfume, sharp and generic. I think I'll try it in a locket and see if I can keep that sweet fruity scent that wafted from the bottle. Otherwise, off to swaps she goes!

I really wanted to love this one, as I have a lovely memory of a Waldorf School Halloween event I attended about ten years ago, where one of the students portrayed this gold-spinning maiden, singing so sweetly as she spun her magic. But alas, there was no straw, no gold, no amber, just a rather harsh rose that gave me a dull headache. Perhaps it was the combination of rose and tears, as aquatics often disagree with my chemistry. I'm going to keep the imp around and try it again, hoping for some magic of my own!

I agree with the above reviews that this scent is very powdery, but I love that about it. I was afraid of the nutty aspect of the seeds, as I don't care for nut scents, but I couldn't detect any. Instead, the Sparrow is all softness, soft amber, soft sandalwood, softness like feathers, softness like a well-built nest in winter. Very comforting and quiet -- I didn't feel like there was any throw at all, this is a scent just for me, as if I were gathering my wings in close and burrowing down in that soft nest, safe and warm. I will definitely be getting a bottle of this lovely blend.

I'm not getting soft and cuddly, alas. On my skin Mole is much more masculine and studly than I imagine Mole could ever be. ("Oh my goodness me!" says Mole, shocked.) There is a rawness to this scent, a roughness, that is actually making me a little jittery. Though I don't think this is something I would wear much, I can't bear to part with it, just on principle, so I'll tuck it away and see how it ages, and maybe revisit this review at some point. The art on the label also has me baffled -- I can see little claws, but no face. I'm squinting at it in a very Mole-like manner, I must say!

I would have just been heartbroken if this had turned out to be a blend I didn't love. Huzzah! My fears are vanquished. It's like being deep within the badger sett, the scent of sweet earthy tunnels, rich fragrant roots, glimmers of warm peppery spice wafting through. Badger is comforting, grounding, reassuring. It makes me want to curl up and sleep securely, deep in the earth's embrace. I'm going to need some backup bottles of this! And I suspect it will age deliciously too.

I'm a big fan of BPAL's rose blends, in general, so I'm always happy to try a new one. This one had me swooning right from the first sniff. Some rose scents smell like ROSES, plural, a big bouquet or a rose garden in the sun. The Rose made me think of just one rose, the perfect rose, the rose you see just over the garden wall. The single perfect rose that, when you close your eyes and bury your nose in its velvety depths, you sigh with delight. This is The Rose you must take back to Beauty, even if it means incurring the wrath of the Beast.

In the bottle and on application this had an earthy, mulch-like scent that reminded me of walking in the woods after a heavy rain. Alas, on drydown it became almost single-note walnut, which is nice if you like walnut, not so nice if (like me) they make you faintly sick. Worth keeping the decant as a curiosity, but it's not something I would wear again. Nut fans, though, take note!

My first thought on smelling the decant was that this is almost identical to my three-year-old bottle of Velvet. On my skin, the cocoa takes a back seat to the Snake Oil, and after about half an hour, gets out of the car completely. The cocoa in Velvet aged so beautifully, I need to decide now if I want to get a bottle of Boomslang and see if it does the same. This is yummy, all on its own, but Velvet is still my cocoa love.