impolight

Gleaming white amber and silvered ambergris accord with copoiba balsam, benzoin, Atlas cedar, black pepper, and oudh. Well, isn't this fortuitous? Location, location, location! Today was premium serendipity. Going to Bat's Day Black Market yielded all kinds of wonderful cerebral candy...Goodies from the Lab in particular! Beth, as usual was delightful in every respect. Ted was magnificently charming. Happiness was easy to come by, and come it did in multiple forms. One of the particularly good forms was this,'Silver Haired Bat'. Several bottles were there to survey the wonders that are Southern California's dilapidated freeway system as the car hurtled eastward, but the interior of said automobile was a veritable utopia of fragrances. Bat's day is highly recommended to anyone with discerning taste. From the Bottle: Silver Haired Bat is radiant. This is like pure morning sunlight warming the bark of a robust specimen of an arboreal diety as it surveys the whole world glittering silently beneath it. This is alive with warmth and vitality. There is a sweetness here as well that, at very first, is tempting to be compared to Butterscotch... This, however, is a very, very GOOD Butterscotch. It would also be fair to say that this is a very, very NAUGHTY Butterscotch. This could be the Benzoin toying with emotions in an unexpected way. Kind of like being eaten by a werewolf and then it starts...purring. The Copaiba Balsam and the Oudh are ridiculously good here. This is obscenity in a bottle. On the Skin: Holy H-E-Dubba Hockey Sticks. This yumbelievably GOOD. The Oudh displays the most amperage. This blooms nicely with the body's warmth and cooperates well with the preexisting sweetness. The Black Pepper has exquisite timing when she lets her presence be known; long-legged step from the periphery to shimmy confidently by in a sequinned black dress that hugs her body like a constellation hugs a billion prayers. If this is similar to anything from recent memory, it would have to be The Seekim...A silkier, sexy She-Seekim. Perhaps it is the Black Pepper? The Cedar has been surprisingly subdued on this particular occasion and the Ambergris slinks uncharacteristically at the heels of this blend. That being said, there is absolutely nothing bad to say about The Silver Haired Bat. On Him, The Silver Haired Bat is smoky sweet seduction. A disarming surprise worthy of a second look. On Her, The Silver Haired Bat is a breathtaking boquet. An all consuming intrigue. A lingering taste. Silver Haired Bat gets a 5 out of 5.

Re: :::Alice::: P.S. Happy Birthday Lewis Carroll!

:::ALICE::: This arrived as a Frimp in the latest order. Alice didn't offer much in the way of temptation because it seemed outright feminine in it's persuasion. All of the Lab's formulas are worthy of attention but it is more likely that blends that are unisex at least go better for the wearing when the wearer happens to be a large male. As this was inspired by the writings of Lewis Carroll (as are all the Mad Tea Party blends ) the chance to embody some of the magic, by proxy, proves too big a temptation to resist. From the Imp: Peculiar! There is an HUGE insinuation of carrot cake... O_o. This must be the Milk and Honey notes coming together to create an element similar to cream cheese frosting. Confectionary smells have a history of being difficult to adapt to in past experience. In passing or in small doses it is ok, but when worn and impossible to escape from, nausea sets in after a few minutes. The tang of Bergamot must be the other element that jives with the Milk and Honey to lend to the frosting effect because, after further huffings, this is the strongest impression thus far. The floral elements don't really shine through just yet. Nervousness reigns. Perhaps the skin chemistry will help balance things out... On the Skin: Alice is still heavy, cloying, and sweet but the florals DO come through to save the day! The Carnation is most apparent now. The Lab's Carnation note is consistently, beautifully rendered at the pulse points. The sweet, spicy, peppery blooms, bespattered with mist, are almost palpable. Rose is here as well, but is probably the most demure rose experienced in any of the blends tried so far. Bergamot is still threading through the mix like some twinkling ephemera of vulcan tinsel and makes Alice hum. The Honey has been subdued into a ghostly, powdery remnant of it's former glory and makes a grand unifier of this blend. Alice is still most likely ideal for Her, but He can certaily wear as proudly as He wears a Carnation in the button hole of an immaculately tailored suit. High marks! 5 out of 5 for Alice. A new convert has been made.

::: Lich's Laboratory ::: What a surprise this was when the latest shipment arrived in the post! This is the first time an Atmosphere or Linnen Spray sample has been within reach. Ordinarily it is the wearable oils that pique the interest, but thuis was an invigorating experience! The notion that this would be a welcome addition to the catalogue of wearable oils is heavily supported here! There is a good deal of Vanilla that Does seem like it would be found in a well-stocked pantry. The mosses are rich, heavy, and silkent, There is something like Teak or Oudh that gives Lich's laboratory a nice polish. A keeper for sure! The wife says It smells like I smelled Caramel Corn around the house... She asked if I was eating Cracker Jacks... O_o. Lich's laboratory gets a 5 out of 5!

:::THE GRAVE-PIG::: Aren't Frimps the most wonderful things? While a pocket book recession may have slowed the pace of orders from the lab, it is an irresistable force... The excitement levels were so high when that pinchably cute box with the telltale orange tape arrived that the bonus Imp's Ears had become a momentarily forgotten prize that, literally, produced a squee... and an eye roll from the Beloved. Looking this one up produced a dollop of unease at first. The praises of The Lab's Fig note have been sung by many, it is true, but in this case the results have been historically unfortunate... imagine being proferred a Fig Newton from a warm and sweaty pocket where a balogna sandwich has also been stored and you get the idea. Other notes in this overrode preconceived discomfiture and mandated an enthusiastic try. The results are... From the Imp: Patchouli! Yay! The Fig is also right at the front of the line, waving maniacally, but smells more raisinesque at this phase. A spicy bite perchance to darkles at the borders; no mention of Cassia has been included, nonetheless there is a distinctive impression of it. Further snufflings evoke Black Walnut paste, Tree Bark, Leather, Ash, and Loam... Nothing Mushroomy, Truffly, or otherwise Fungoid just yet. Oakmoss is here somewhere, but mostly in a suggestive sense. The darks of Patchouli and Fig have muted anything definitive thus far. On the Skin:Previous Whoah! Um, Cedar??? Yup. Don't know why, but The Grave-Pig is amping some very conspicuous timber here. Big Time. We have, here, a sawmill. The lumber aisle at Home Depot. The contents of a pencil sharpener upturned into the prolific beard of a smiling man hefting a double bladed axe and wearing a flannel the approximate size of a carport. Fig has fled. Patchouli has poofed. Mushroom's gone missing. If this is Oakmoss, it has been injecting steroids into its neck whilst swilling burbon. Several minutes later something soft and green, but indistinct tries to come out and play: In the aftermath of a forest fire the ranger, while scanning charred acreage, spots a verdant shoot that has risen from the ash. It is too far away to identify, even through powerful binoculars, but it is there. There is hope anew. The Grave-Pig seems best suited for masculine body chemistry from this impession. A woman could certainly wear it, but the best accoutrement would be a utility belt. Still, this is a powerful, wonderful, and evokative fragrance. A 4 out of 5.

:::THE OLD GOBLIN::: Somehow this one had completely evaded detection until the advent of this past year's Bat's Day. It took nothing more than a cursory sniff to become enthralled with this formula. There is not enough good that can be said for Elizabeth's devotion to encapsulating the kind of magical thinking that embodies the mystical realm of childhood and the accompanying fables that inspire the virtues of hope and anticipation in the bosoms of human beings. It can be said, confidently, that once funding from Lottery winnings arrives the entire catalogue of BPAL fragrances will find, here, a happy home. From the Bottle: This is coniferous grandeur! On occasion Evergreen scents can come across as synthetic, shallow, and disappointing. The Arboreal sorceries in The Old Goblin, however, are anything but. This formula is the sweeping panorama of majestic forests beneath a firmament composed of a choir of regal blues and greys. The Ozonic component is a glittery freshet that promises to be invigorating on the skin. While not specified in the notes listed, there is something in here, too, that is black and shiny in the way that Licorice, Anise, or Fennel is. On the Skin: Previous allusions to both the masculine and the soapy qualities of The Old Goblin are, now, more readily understood. This is quite like the olivine bar of Cypress scented soap, imported from Italy, that made for blissful bathroom hours. The Old Goblin is remarkably fresh and green. It is easy to associate this with the realm of conjuring and fable. The Old Goblin gets a 54 out of 5!

:::MOONSHINE AND MIST::: A fantasy come true arrived in a 5 ml. Bottle of Moonshine and Mist. Bat's Day is already a gathering of souls that parallels a Paradise or Nirvana of Earthly plane, but the opportunity to not only sniff but to take home a bottle of this stuff made the day loftier still. From the Bottle: Moonshine and Mist is handsome, dashing, and rakish... This stiff glides through the ether and graces the spirit of the inhaler with a warm and unctious tongue-bath. It is easy to get lost in and dissolve in this fragrance. The Sandalwood behaves in a silkent and creamy manner. This inspires über confidence and well being. The White Musk immerses one in an otherworldly glow and the Ambergris is a stratospheric smooch of ectstatic quixotry. On the Skin: While there is not an overabundance of throw, Moonshine and Mist is indubitably clean. Ylang Ylang makes a clarion call from the pulse-points and certainly has an invigorating soapiness it can call a close ally. While it is not an overtly familiar fragrance, the Water Violet is shrinking, like its namesake, into a place where it is scarcely perceptible. Moonshine and Mist is a 'Fresh from the Shower' type of fragrance. This is cheery, good natured and unisex. Moonshine and Mist is stunning and rife with bewitchery. This is one of those BPAL formulas that somehow escaped prominence, but is rendered all the more awesome by its elusiveness and rarity. Moonshine and Mist gets a 4.5 out of 5.

::: THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT::: This one came as an unexpected gift from Sissy! (Thank you, Schnanni!). Apparently, differences in body chemistry inspired the bequeathing, so the intrigue levels were piqued. A review of the notes revealed nary a cause for alarm so, wrists at the ready, the time is nigh to plunge ahead. From the Bottle: This is very Christmasy. The Cypress, Orange, and Clove are all vying for preeminence. The Winter of our Discontent manages to be both dark and shiny. This manages to be bitter, sweet and spicy all at once. On the Skin: Oooh! The Darkness! The Winter of Our Discontent blackens considerably. While neither note was mentioned, this is quite remniscent of both a metallic element and something that is very much like a Black Walnut. The sweet, spice, and bitter notes are still whirling dervishes, but something else is rising from the depths; a powderier note that reminds one of an old timey barber shop kind of fragrance... the kind of talc once favoured by grandpa. The Winter of Our Discontent is highly polished and envelops the wearer in a halo of well being. This one gets a 4.5 out of 5.

:::DIRTY::: Dirty was an immediate hit with the first snift. While it is something of a challenge not to become rabidly over stimulated upon seeing an ocean of 5 ml. bottles at some gathering of the souls like, say, Bat’s Day Dirty was one of those fragrances that made it impossible not to be rooted to the spot. Even the Wife, stalwart objector to the vast majority of things scented (perfumed, deodorizers, air-fresheners, room sprays, potpourri, colognes, body talc, and ESPECIALLY essential oils), became immediately intrigued and smitten with Dirty. Hope is a beautiful thing! The immediate purchase was suddenly, acceptably, a thing of dire urgency. From the Bottle: No delirament would be adequate to describe the blessed out feeling that accompanies the very first waft. There is a distinct impression a large picture window paned entirely in glass that is the trembliest shade of pale and electrified blue. Dirty is so reinvigorating and buoyant that it would be tempting to compare it to merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily bobbing along, downstream, in some wide and lazy river that could only be painted by the likes of Maxfield Parrish. Plumeria isn’t the most familiar of notes, but there is definitely a floral presence in this. The Ozonic is also unapologetically splendid. Essentially, this bottle contains all of the things most dazzling and succulent that makes the halcyon days of high summer; Here be tall and radiant grasses waving hypnotically in a zephyr’s wake which also happens to make those angelically white and line-dried linens flutter, sparklingly blue and bracing water, fantastically ripe blooms of every description, and the slightest kiss from a perfectly chilled melon.Yup… This stuff is pretty rad. On the Skin: Same as above only more so. If anything the Ozone amps the most; this is like being enveloped in a perfect sphere of la-dee-dah. Being a character is some magically animated production that is on par with the Disney masterpieces of yore would probably be akin to what this is like.This is very well-lit… cue waterfalls, armonica and harp. There is a distinct sense of wonder and well-being that accompanies the wearing of Dirty. This is like breathing in ultraviolet light. As it dries Dirty softens, sweetens, and glows. While it is doubtful that there are any Violets in this, something maddeningly familiar starts hovering at the periphery about thirty minutes after putting it on… the closest accessible thing that comes to mind is the sensation had about five minutes after eating one of those Choward’s Violet Mints. Dirty is an olfactory standing ovation equally suited for Him or Her. 5 out of 5.

:::PALE STUDENT OF UNHALLOWED ARTS::: It is difficult to convey, to those with the misfortune of being outside of the proverbial loop, just how much excitement is generated in anticipation of unveiling something this wee and this new to the nose. Previous efforts of explaining this kind of fanaticism have been met with confusion, concern, and good natured scorn (you know; the slowly arched eyebrow. The glassy grimace that, for all intents and purposes, is supposed to pass for a smile. The knowing and supposedly covert sidelong glances). Well, excitement was in abundance with the receiving of a 5 ml. Vial of Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts. It is a crying shame, really, that this stuff has yet to be made available by the jug. From the Bottle: This is some of the most precious stuff on the planet. The first reaction is to stand agog whilst trying to ferret out the appropriate adjectives. Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts is majestic. The wearer is spun beneath a pounding tide of Evergreen and effervescence. This is what it might be like to have billions of bubbles tickling your beak should you be suspended in perfectly liquid chrome. Most conspicuous in the Ozonic which has been deftly mastered by Elizabeth. This makes for the achingly bright and hyperreal kind of portraitures a sould could expect to witness in the imagery associated with the very best of those titilating Edisonades... Cypress would have to be next in line. Pine might be present here, too, but it plays second fiddle to the deep, blue-greens of the Cypress. Benzoin adds some sweetness. Neroli makes for a lovely, lovely accent. This is incredible stuff! On the Skin: Don't you just love that automatic chicken-neck/pelvic thrust instinctual reaction you get to think that you smell that damned good? This stuff really clangs and pops on contact with the pulse points. Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts is no shy wallflower about being yummy. This is hip-cocked, low-slung, washboarded, smirking, lip-licking decadence. The Neroli and Benzoin really shine through here with verve and polish. The Cypress is athrob with luridly haunting qualities that would be hard-pressed to replicate with quite the same effect as in this exact formula. While the Ozone is still presiding over the entire gathering, it has settled back comfortably to allow for this mysterious spiciness to showcase its virtues... Toasted Cumin Seed, perhaps? Mace? Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts is a radiant paradigm for anyone seeking an olfactory ideal. While this would certainly be something of an intrigue of the feminine form, it seems that Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts has been formulated with the intend of making a stunning ideal out of Him. Flawless in every respect, Pale Student of Unhallowed Arts is worthy of a coveted place in the ranks of any serious collectors most prized stash. 5 out of 5.

::: BLACK PEARL ::: A review for this particular formula has been a long time in the making. The hardest bit is getting those preconceived notions of a dreadlocked Depp out of mind. The association here should be of those nacreous spheres, the most exotic variety in particular, that are heralded as the birth stones of Cancerians; those Crabs, those cardinal water signs. A good, languishing float atop an ocean of ideation is anxiously expected. No mention has been made of Marine Notes, of Kelp, or of Bladderwrack, but the faith in BPAL is strong… Weigh anchor! From the Bottle: The first aromatic wash is limitless and sempiternal. This formula has been flawlessly blended together to where no solitary note is in jeopardy of outshining the others. Black Pearl is, thus far, lustrous, glossy, and noctilucous. This is a beautiful and hallowed variety of fragrance. It would be not at all difficult to envision an essence such as this one kept under guard and in a jewel-encrusted box. This Black Pearl is esoteric in origin. This waits with whispers, vanishes behind veils, and is secreted behind stones. Black Pearl is a trove, a talisman, a reliquary. On the Skin: It is difficult to say whether Black Pearl is more lush or louche. Here is where the notes start to stratify. White Musk is amped into a billowing, lightning-laced cloud, but instead of torrential rains, out falls a flurry of ruffled Iris petals. Black Pearl has become soft, ghostly kisses aglow on the cheek and the nape. Hazelnut has demurred in this particular instance; a ninja somewhere in another country. The Coconut is rich, moist and on the verge of being esculent. This isn’t the Coconut in a confection, nor is it the essence that teases out of some of the costlier tanning oils. Nay, this Coconut is the succulent meat, but only as you can taste it on a lover’s lips as the two of you writhe in the drenched sands of a deserted beach while surf and thunder vie for dominance. On Him, Black Pearl is sweet and lachrymose; almost worryingly melancholy. Black Pearl is quiet strength, yet it is also haunted. Black Pearl in a dark territory; you’re not sure if you can reach it or if you really want to. If you can reach it, it’s hard to be sure you will ever find your way home again. On Her, Black Pearl is silken and recherché. She sits, imperially, beneath a tiara that darkles. About her throat, coils of the most beautiful Pearls ever beheld by mortal eyes complements the regalia perfectly. Black Pearl gets a 4.5 out of 5.

:::Öndurdis::: Some of the most magnificent formulas are those where the notes remain a riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Free association reigns. A sense of wonder is preserved. Magical thinking is liberated, at last, from the myopic motes that settle over a soul; the accumulation of which is an avalanche of drear. As one is assailed on all fronts by triple digits of mocking mercury, Öndurdis should come as sweet relief to the oppressive radiance bullying all hours. Snow-capped mluntains would be just the panacea... From the Bottle: My, my, my there is certainly alot that sounds a nasal BOOM at first impression... where to begin? Something like Rappaccini's Hemlock? Eucalyptol? Camphor? Fir? Cedar? Grapefruit? Vanilla? This is a mighty wind indeed! This is not only snow-capped mountains, this is a shrill blizzard blowing. This is a forest rendered fragile by frost. Öndurdis can be very busy and almost medicinal at first impression, but as the nose takes the time to adjust to personification of a wintry mania the ancient magics and forces of nature resolve from the background and grin glassy grins on their fearsome and reverential aspects... Come, conifer! Summon stone! On the Skin: Oh, wow. This has gotten rather intense. The fragrance that is Öndurdis is bracing and clean. The pulse-points hug it close, but the fragrance has undeniable power. Öndurdisis is a towering, sentient, and mobile evergreen tree with black bark and blue-black needles that are strewn with jewels of ice. Öndurdisis wears a corona woven from mint leaves. Strangely, while this is all happening atop a frozen peak (think Fantasia; winter edition) there is something else lurking in the stormy fury... a potent pulse of petrichor? Öndurdisis comes as a welcome respite from the sizzle of summer. On Him, Öndurdisis is bracing, masculine, and adventurous in a seafaring kind of way. On Her, Öndurdisis is flawless, smooth, and lethally seductive. Öndurdisis gets a 4 out of 5.

The notes listed in A Nocturnal Reverie mark it for potential greatness; this is a blend that has all the trappings of purple poltergeists in a dimly lit fugue. Somehow, though, this one escaped notice for an inexplicably long time. That this was ordered from London on a foreign exchange program and sent Stateside probably had something to do with it. Anywho, the excitement is palpable! Time to twist the top, nuzzle the neck, and breathe the beauty... From the Bottle: The Lavender is luscious. This purpled perfume is the most magnificently frocked of the Lavenders encountered thus far. Ordinarily Lavender is a blessing although it can have, however, a tendency to behave as a medicinal element and lend an unnecessary edginess to other notes. This time the Lavender is posh, purple, princely, and phantasmagorical. The Violet element makes this formula all the more luminous, and there is something else... Though it hasn't been included in the notes, there seems to be a very faint element of something Ozonic here too, but only just. These would be vestigial at best; the very last of the tendrils of a morning mist snagged in tree tops as they flee the breezes blowing off the bay. This formulas has a very lush and ddistinctly European feel at this phase. On the Skin: This is Lavender at its most succulent. Not only are the flowering tops here in their actinic splendor, but a fistfull of dew-dropped, crushed green stems fills the senses. As it wears for some moments, the Violet Musk develops a nice, powdery plushness that softens the Lavender enough to let some of the subtler elements borrow some of the glory... The Amber's presence is sweet and revered; jewel-toned and opulent. The Oudh is dark, rich, and has an almost perverse edge to it... Sex magic performed at the base of a glittering waterfall in the middle of some sylvan sea during a full moon. A Nocturnal Reverie is brilliant and massive. Anybody who is a fan of GC's Libertine will find this an exquisite counterpart. On Her A Nocturnal Reverie is a sable-haired vision wearing garnets and a plunging neckline that makes you wonder how she can be so comfortable when it's so cold. On Him A Nocturnal Reverie is bemusement that verges on cruelty and looks dashing no matter hoe effeminate the hue of his raiment... if necessary, this poi t can be driven home with a silver-topped cane. Exquisite genius. A Nocturnal Reverie gets a 54 out of 5.

:::LUCY'S KISS::: This came as another endearing freebie from this year's Bat's Day Black Market. Ah, yes Lucy Westerna... This brings back wistful memories of opening night at Francis Ford Coppola's version of the Dracula story. The Stygianati were present in all their dark finery and accoutrements and the mood was like airborne adrenaline. A person could practically feel the very air turn humid and the pulse wax thunderous in that first presence of Lucy and her fiery kink... and then again as the corrupted concubine. So what to expect from this? Rose? Rose is always a pleasure (especially if it happens to be your birth-flower). All things Victorian allude to that wonderful, Steampunky vibe that is tragically and chronically underrated... Curiosity, however, abounds. How will this fit in with the characteristic conceptions? From the Imp: Answer... Perfectly. At first sniff there was the sense of being immediately transported out of the current astral plane and into a Victorian parlor room joining the worshipful throng of admirers at the feet of Lucy. Almost tangibly, her green Wolf-lamp eyes roll down the length of your body like molten wax. Her smile is searing and voracious. The Rose is seductive and innocent... This Rose wears a plaid skirt and knee-high stockings. The Spice element has the darkling secretiveness of some exotic import. There is a sense of belonging to a once exclusive club. On the Skin: How this was accomplished, one can only guess at, but the Rose and the Spice have been impregnated with a spritz of the sanguine. This gets hot, coppery, and wonderful. While distinctly Rose, this isn't as stalwartly feminine as originally predicted. On Him, Lucy's Kiss is a dirty little secret that throbs in time with the thrill of a racing pulse. On Her, Lucy's Kiss is a weapon of mass seduction. Genius once again. A strong 5 out of 5.

:::HAIRY TOAD LILY::: From the Imp: Quite pretty! Stargazer this aint, but there is a definite bouquet going on. Purple is entirely appropriate, but Hot-Pink fits the bill just as nicely. This is also achingly, cloyingly sweet. At this phase, there is absolutely no mistaking this formula as fitting in with the "masculine" ideal. This happens to be very cutesy, very candy, very teeny-bopperesque. "Spotty" is also apt as an adjective. There is a playful, exciting, and cartoonish effervescence to this. A Wonderland kind of spotty. Admittedly, when first introduced to the notion of flora that had "Hairy Toad" attatched to it, there were free associations of quirk, weird, intergalactic life forms. This wouldn't get a raised eyebrow; there are nebulae of genius concepts that regularly show up in all categories. Hairy Toad Lily just didn't come across in the same way. This is just plain fun, just plain yum. On the Skin: Hairy Toad Lily has completely lost it's candied edges and explodes in full flowered glory. This is stickily sweet stamen and succulent stem. There's something dirty here, too. Not in an unhygeinic way, more in a rich, organic, exotic way. This smells "imported" and "smutty". Hairy Toad Lily is a clutch of actinic blooms and freshly rumpled sheets. Hardcore, XXX flORAL sex. Hairy Toad Lily is pungent, perky, and refreshingly kinky. On Her, this is a definite head-turner and causes the pulse to race unexpectedly. He could wear this, but it wouldn't make much sense. 4 out of 5.

:::SLOBBERING PINE::: At Bat's Day, there was no skimpin' on the Frimpin'. Not this year, by Jingo. While Rappaccini's Garden hosts some of the most beloved in the GC, this formula, in particular, brought unusual images to mind. The things that, unbidden, came to frolic! From the Imp: Thus far, this is halfway betwixt a high-gloss, confectionary lozenge and some time well-spent in a chair at the salon. This is haute couture and gossip that is juicy enough for thirteen cavities.No evergreen boughs, not yet. None of the mop-bucketry or the cough drops of previous complainings. Thus far, this one smells rather pleasant if in a decidedly synthetic sort of way. On the Skin: Here be the Coniferous candy! There seems to be Vetiver sliknking around too, arm in arm with... cherries? Well, this, in no way resembles this big pine tree with the jingling collar, roots flinging mud all over the carpets that was previously envisioned. This is a magnificent keeper! A resounding 4.5 out of 5!

:::HORSE CHESTNUT HONEY::: More to love from Rappaccini's Apiary! Despite the likelihood of a tragic or undignified demise, there is still a strong urge to taste these.This one snuggled homeward as a Frimp after this year's Bat's Day and has yet to have some virtue extolling done... so today's ghe day. From the Imp: The Chestnut is quite conspicuous. Again, it is necessary to quell the impulse to take a lick. The Honey aspect has not been obvious just yet. There is a sweetness, of course, but it is more of a woodsy sweetness; like the smell a person experiences when they put their nose right up to the bark of Scott's Pine, a Maple/Vanilla/Amber kind of sweetness. As well as the Chestnut, there almost seems to be a trace of something that is awfully close to Black Walnut loitering in the sniffaliscious spectrum. This is really quite clever. Were a dish of this to appear, tableside, at the evening meal of a gathering of the ruling class, there might just be more whistling to be heard during the days that follow. On the Skin: Horse Chestnut Honey darkens, ripens, and lays an ever stickier snare. The heat and the chemistry of the body makes the throw magnify in a way that is nothing short of impressive. After about five minutes of wear the fragrance of Honey has finally gotten past the initial shyness and has come to join the party. Interestingly, this doesn't give the impression of flowing, translucent Honey; this is more of the granulated and achingly sweet variety. Another thing that gets noticed at this phase is something that is very much like Bitter Almonds (cyanide?) Which, again, would be a brilliant allusion to the theme of Hazardous Honeys. Horse Chestnut Honey is unique, unctious, and unisex. It's raw redolence will make many a convert and is likely to initiate colorful conversation. Wear this one when the mood becomes rutheless or Devil-may-care. Horse Chestnut Honey gets a 4.5 out of 5.

Venerable Victorian Tea Rose… twisted, blackened and emboldened with wickedness. Having recently spent a semester abroad in London, this one comes with a bountiful measure of almost pure adrenaline riding the frothy crests in the swirling Sea of Supposition. Surely this is meant to be allegorical; while there is much about London that is absolutely black, twisted, and simultaneously elegant, the resplendent raunch of the real world is ever at the ready to shatter your reverie. Anyone who has ever pressed up against the steaming throng whilst riding the Picadilly Line can attest to this... Digression! Beth's genius is sure to shine through any nastiness. Rose may not go over so well with some of the assorted populus, but She will always get a warm reception here. From the Imp: Roses. Clean, clear, crisp, crystalline. Dotted with dewdrops or diamond dust. This is a pleasant surprise. From past experience, a good deal of the Rose-based formulas yield an oil that is ghostly, greenish-golden in color. This oil could have dripped from a glacier. The Rose in London is luminous and stately, graceful and poised. This is a stroll through an immaculate garden in the mists of morning. London is beautiful, shining, and tastefully subdued thus far. There has been absolutely no muddling of the spice cupboard or the char mentioned in some of the other reviews. Perhaps the best Imp fortunately found a loving home here. On the Skin: London remains refreshing and light. The subtlest succulence has developed here; the dewpoint has magnified and the only comparison that comes to mind is that bite of the perfect watermelon. This in NO way smells like watermelon itself, it is simply remniscent of the same refreshing quality. London is the proverbial Rose that annoints those lenses that enables a soul to see the world as it should be. London is THE hub, THE haven, THE pinnacle of evolution and enlightenment. This is about as gorgeous a fragrance as anyone could expect for pure, unadulterated notes. On Her, London is shining eyes, moist, glowing skin, and a kiss like like a basketful of berries. On Him, London is unruly hair and a smile that quiety thrills on a countenance that is inexplicably, inappropriately cherubic. Another masterpiece from The Lab. 5 out of 5.

Sheol has been one of the unfortunates to have JUST missed a slot in past orders, and the accompanying Frimps have provided others for the marvelling over. Well, Bat's Day this year put a stop to all that nonsense when a Frimp of Sheol had been included with the other loot. The most intriguing note, conceptually, so far has been the Copal. When it has been icluded in any other fromula from past experience, the result of it, when introduced to the body chemistry, has been nothing short of stellar. So the levels of excitement were high and mighty for this one. Now to compare the theatre of the npse with the theatre of the imagination. From the Imp: Copal wins, most definitely. Stargazer is also richl, heady, cloying, and somnolent... There is something distinctly metallic here as well? Might simply be the morning nose. There is a firm impression of jewel-toned raiments, swirling in an ecstatic and nonstop pirohuette (sp?) Of the wearer. Definitely an altered consciousness encapsulated in a 1/32 oz. vial. On the Skin: This has softened significantly. There are loftier, more powdery strata of the Heliotrope and the Tonka Bean. Sheol still manages to be rich and luxuriant. The longer it wears, the more transendent, abstract, and dreamlike it becomes. Wordly cares and motivations slip away like a fistful of fog. Sheol is a masterfully crafted formula. This has likely been designed with Her in mind, but the Copal makes this perfectly safe and even charismatic on Him. A 5 out of 5.

:::PALADIN::: Now is a good time for some laying on of hands… Particularly if Paladin is where the meet them. Unsniffed, it could reasonably be said that anyone who’s up for doing some good smiting would probably want to smell like the paladin of the BPALian interpretation. Before too many assumptions are made, however, the time is nigh for the uncapping. This pocket protector is moist! From the Imp: Paladin is RIDICULOUSLY good! The effect is like a cross between waking up one morning to find a blazing halo overhead and that awkward moment when you’re about to kiss someone incredibly sexy and your teeth clack on the mirror. Paladin could be dissected and deconstructed, surely, but it wouldn’t matter. There are parts of Paladin that can be identified, but most of this is very much like a religious experience. Anybody would want to smell like this; a knight, a warrior, a poet, a geek, a saint, sinner, seductress, sorcerer or sage. Be warned, it is very difficult for sniffing cessation with this Imp. The Metallic note that represents the Shining Armour is one of the best run across. The White Musk radiates with ethereal power and exudes a particular kind of confidence and optimism that makes a person feel like they’re striding about with a crackly kind of aura. This formula is radically clever! At this point, a person might feel mildly afraid that their body chemistry is going to interfere with this and impede the magic… Persevere anyway! On the Skin: The worst part of this was smearing a dab on the underside of the forearm and then trying not to lick it off! The Armour really amps as it warms up with the help of the skin. Frankincense and Leather both blossom spectacularly, making an extraordinary bouquet. On Her, Paladin is lupine. It is clean linen and it is somewhere between lullaby and lunacy. On Him, Paladin is Aurora Glorialis. It is the first true understanding of eternity. It is a whisper in your ear that holds the roar of all oceans. Paladin is beauty and bliss. A 5 out of 5.

:::THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL::: Any Frimp is a good Frimp. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil promises a slap and a tickle. A memory of writing a review for this one already was nagging somewhere in the back of the incessant internal narration, but a peek through the files revealed the contrary. Must have been The Tree of Life. Anywho, all of the notes seem friendly enough, and there have yet to be any tears shed over the degree of sleep deprivation, so the time is nigh for a good scribble! From the Imp: [/color]The only definitive thing detectable thus far is the Apple; and that insists on being cheekily vague. There seems to be something akin to a child-friendly wood here, too; white, untreated, and perfectly safe. The only other things at this phase that draw any notice whatsoever is a soft, pink Rose (?) and the fumes from a caterpillar-chewed leaf. The Tree of Knowledge is perfectly innocuous so far. I can’t tell if this is something reserved, grandfatherly, and asleep on its feet or if it is holding a fearsomely proportioned sledgehammer behind its back. On the Skin: Sneaky devil! From the treetops come coils of Almond and Grape. The glitteriest scales are precisely the hue of Cinnamon, and the other notes are content to titter in the flickering foliage overhead. Eventually, the other notes flee into warm, fuzzy memory, but the Cinnamon stays stalwart showing a row of Tamaring-tinged teeth. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil seems as though it has been formulated with Her in mind. This would also make a wonderful atmospheric for those partial to using these formulas as a home fragrance. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil gets a 3.5 out of 5

::: WINGS OF AZRAEL::: Peculiar how some of these formulas will skate right on past you, ninja style. Well, at least Wings of Azrael has done this. This one showed up by way of frimpage and almost found a home in the tub o' Imps being hoarded for no good reason ;p. The forum was logged into on a just-in-casd basis and, lo and behold, no review? WHAT??? So the tub gets upended onto the table, the piles of Imps get clawed through repeatedly and stil... no Wings of Azrael. After quick scansion of the notes bewilderment perches stubbornly. There is only goodness here... wait, what's Cajeput? (Oh... Tiger Balm? Really??) Now there is NO STOPPING. From the Imp: A couple of deep sniffs were needed for reassurance. This was probably one of the first times that every note registered plainly... kind of like a child's painting of a rainbow. This is not to say the formula is at all primitive, on the contrary, it is wildly multifaceted. Ordinarily, the blends of several notes will merge to create surreal afftect. The surreal is achieved in Wings of Azrael with every note being clearly distinguishable from the others; The Violet and the Lily stand apart, the Myrrh glistens beautifully in stark relief, the Cypress stands as though in a new grove, the Juniper activates the salivary glands just shy of tonic water and a lime, and the Cajeput, well, yeah it IS kinda like Tiger Balm. In a great way! On the Skin: Whoah. This is where the magic happens. Here the geometric patterns shatter and beautifl, undulating, non-Euclidean waves wash over. Violet dominates this formula, and is beautifully enhanced by the other notes. The Myrrh and the Cajeput slide seamlessly into a radically indecent intertwining that makes the Wings of Azrael shimmer provocatively. The Juniper would be next in line, creating a mythically verdant, paradisical canopy from under which anything is possible. This is amazing! On Her, the Wings of Azrael is a humming glissando that soul kisses every taste bud. Oh Him, the Wings of Azrael is the kaleidoscopic cramp that originates from behind fluttering eyelids. Olfactory platinum. A 5 out of 5.

::: ORC::: Of all the Frimps to wind up in these greedy, trembling clutches this one invoked the greatest excitement. The RPG line has been an inspiration since it's inception, but economic forces have weighed in heavily in terms of influencing thrifty order habits of late. When the return home from Bat's Day revealed that Orc was among the stowaways, there was voluble and dorktastic rejoicing to be heard... The Wife, bless her, remained the steadfast but mute pillar of highly coloured chagrin. Vetiver is always a reason to be excited. The Lab's Leather note suggests fantasy figures at any level. Courgette? Well, that one was welcome news because, since returning home from London, everybody insists on calling it zucchini. Those are the greasy, green things you can get a carton of at Carl's Jr. From the Imp: Luscious vegetal essence. While there exists the subtlest presence of the emerald squash, there is something dewy and leafy here too. Cucumber would be suspect even though it has been thus far exempted from mention. Also, it would come as no surprise that the main component of the Courgette comes from the sweet, golden blossoms. Surprisingly, the Leather and the Vetiver are hidden away somewhere, snickering at the thought of leaping around a corner later and making hairs turn white. On the Skin: Here is the Vetiver. The Asiatic grass is surprisingly sweet in this formula. It maintains a highly tropical profile and there is something darkly refined in it too; an idol of highly polished pewter or grass that some eccentric billionaire with gothic leanings has secreted away in the shadowy recesses of his remote manor. It isn't until later that Leather finally joins the foray. The Leather here is gorgeous; soft, supple, and lovingly worked to perfection. This blend has been a very pleasant surprise. The expectation was that this would come across as hard-bitten, edgy, and gritty. Well, what else could come from judging a book by it's cover? Rest assured, Orc is pleasingly dark and intriguing. There are many levels to this formula, though, and most of them are well acquainted with an unexpected agility and finesse. On Her, Orc is illicit black sugar; exotic, narcotic, and erotic. On Him, Orc is deliciously deviant; willing, chilling, and thrilling. Bravo, BPAL! Orc is, most definitely, a 5 out of 5.

::: YA-TE-VO :::[/center] Money makes the world go round. No? Well, then it has to be these blessed Frimps. Just about the time it seems possible to get a handle on this obsession (No it’s not!), a wee, sparkly avalanche of nasal Nirvana shows up and tips every last shred of dignity arse over elbows. Complaining doesn’t help. Rationalizing is simply laughable. There is really just no way to explain a bucket of these things to anybody who hasn’t accepted The Lab into their hearts. Suffice it to say that good things come in 1/32 oz. packages. Ya-Te-Vo. A perfectly contained vial of cryptobotany right at the fingertips whenever it is needed? Of course The Lab makes this a possibility! Instinctively, this one is likely to have WIN written all over it. Some of the allusions to Vic’s in preceding reviews created a little berm of trepidation, but not enough to snuff the excitement. There’s simply no accounting for taste. From the Imp:[/b] Now THAT was wholly unexpected. SO much is going on in this itty-bitty Imp! If this is supposed to be a man-eating tree, then the powers of its lure dwell resolutely in the fragrance. Verdant sofa be danged! The biggest knuckle to the nose comes in the form of Watermelon Bubblegum O_o. Menthol might be lurking somewhere, but Hemlock would be more convincing. Some Tea Tree? Daemonorops? Licorice? A smidge of Cedar? Whatever it is it is DIVINE! Ya-Te-Vo has been brilliantly realized in this incarnation and should be soundly applauded. If this tree is a monstrosity, it is a beautiful monstrosity. Mysterious, adventurous, supernatural and in some exotic locale, far, far away? Check. On the Skin: Ya-Te-Vo reacts almost extraterrestrially with body chemistry. The volatile, evergreen components are on the wane and the sweet soporifics reign. Amber? Honey? Raisin? Cinnamon? Chamomile? This is probably one of the more amazing shape-shifters experienced to date. Ingenious! On Her, Ya-Te-Vo is a glowing complexion, equestrian riding pants, chamber music, and a succulent pear. On Him, Ya-Te-Vo is a mahogany desk, a leather bound journal, pomade in immaculately barbered hair, and a daguerreotype. Ya-Te-Vo is a beautiful fragrance that is well worth exploring. Ready your pith helmet and make history. A 5 out of 5.