Invidiana
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Everything posted by Invidiana
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From an unseen kitchen comes the irresistible aroma of buttery baked pumpkin with a delicious nuttiness, like walnuts roasted in the oven, and all of this is swirled with spices that welcome the colder months. This is not an overwhelmingly spicy pumpkin bread. It is deliciously realistic, with the comfort of the pumpkin and roasted nut notes, along with warming hints of spice, that wrap you up in a your favorite wool socks and blanket on a chilly morning.
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If there was a smell to the waning light of summer before the autumnal equinox, it would be roses drying in the sun, next to the bright yellow petals of sunflowers. Whispers of carnation and hydrangea are exchanged before their last breaths. There are hints of clove and pumpkin on the changing winds, brushing against what can only be described as antique velvet that has finally come down from the attic to have its turn dancing in the sunset.
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This begins with a blood rush of something that is almost cherry but is really the almond. The initial pulse of living blood quickly settles down under the velvety petals of dark, night-blooming orchid that casts shadows of black musk and a cacao that is not chocolate, and is just slightly bitter but sensual. It is a night among the orchids surrounding an Anne Rice-esque mansion where vampires lurk.
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There is a strange coolness to this scent, not so much actual cold as the absence of warmth in a vampire. The apparition starts off in a haze of white musk fluttering with pale petals, and if the rose isn't white, then it has just barely begun to flush pink. What appears to be a vaguely human shape is fleshed out by vanillic tonka and soft woods that may have the feel of a cashmere sweater, and cling as close, but this being can never feel warmth again because it is not human.
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These sheets are so clean all the sins you committed as Motel Ghost last night are immediately forgiven. This ghost is shrouded in freshly aired, lavender-scented sheets and what I think is clean, unsoiled white musk. This is a sleepy, gentle lavender that could easily float you to the otherworld. It seems there is no one under the sheets, but it casts a shadow of labdanum, all that is left of an earthbound spirit.
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This is the dirtiest Halloween costume in a bottle, like taking a jack-o-lantern carved with a very suggestive expression and dressing it up in red lace lingerie. Pumpkin entwines with clouds of shameless red musk in a forbidden liaison, with a backdrop of deep and sexy resins with an enticing whisper of patchouli. This pumpkin is not actually raw pumpkin guts. Rather, it turns out to be smooth and voluptuous with just enough spice to do unspeakable things. As if this isn't already heady enough, the ylang ylang opens its petals wide on the drydown and makes the whole bedroom scene on Halloween night that much more erotic.
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This is like standing in the shadows of an abandoned church, breathing what remains of your vanilla perfume and the residue of incense smoke long gone. It is as if the oud and unholy resins (which aren't bitter on me) are scorched at the edges but not completely blackened, though a shadow of black musk is cast over them. Metal gives this the shivers, and it doesn't have a metallic tang to it like some metal notes do, buth a cold feeling that has nothing to do with snow and ice but the total lack of warmth in the edge of a blade or the veins of the undead. The sins of the past are shrouded in vanilla, vampire-pale but still a sweet memory.
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Convertible Hearse somehow manages to be fresh and macabre at once. It reminds me a little bit of a gothic cologne a friend of mine wore in high school, a throwback those days when I was fifteen and thought it was rebellious to hang with my friends at the mall without any of our parents around. There's something of a new car smell about this. It's not the typical eau du new car, but if there ever was an air freshener was made for a hearse, this is it. The exhaust isn't anything like the overwhelming fumes of a gas station. It's a jolt of gas swept up by a cool autumn breeze that kicks up dry leaves as the hearse, not burdened by a casket yet, speeds down the freeway.
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This is a breakfast to die for. It reminds of me of those times when I've stayed at a hotel and used it as an excuse to grab everything semi-forbidden for breakfast, especially a fluffy stack of syrup-drenched, butter-slathered pancakes, except the syrup here isn't the imitation stuff but that elusive dark maple syrup you can really only find at farmers' markets a way off. The steaming mug of black coffee next to that plate is definitely not decaf. As if this isn't enough, a donut fresh out of the fryer has been sneaked in there as well, and it makes itself known. Hearse of Pancakes almost makes me want to be a morning person. Almost.
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Whether the leather here is the upholstery on the inside of a hearse or the tattered leather jacket of a maniacal ghoul on a horse, it is definitely black, the impenetrable moonless-night black he rides out of. The leather is scuffed by fallen branches which dead leaves swirl around as he tears through the forest (on his horse or in his hearse). I know it isn't listed, but I swear I can pick up that signature Dead Leaves note rustling among the wood. The pumpkin head he holds in one hand blazes with a sweet, slightly burnt smell, definitely not pumpkin pie but pumpkin flesh. Beth has managed to bottle the Headless Horseman.
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This is the kind of hearse I'd rent for a party. Think champagne poured over a lurid pink concoction of guava, strawberry and grapefruit, with a shadow of blackberry syrup, rimmed with sugar. There is also the feel of a clean car scent underneath all this macabre glamour. That might be the bergamot, like a gust of air from a window briefly rolled down, even the chrome note, thought it doesn't flash in your face as chrome over all the pink on pink on pink. If there was actually such a thing as a Barbie hearse, this is exactly what it would smell like.
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This is a throwback to my aunt's lipstick from the '90s (though it was nude and not black), whose waxiness is infused with a subtle rose scent. I don't know where I'm getting rose from. Maybe it's just my skin, but something about it is vintage and familiar, while also being slightly more shadowy and mysterious than the smell of what my aunt wore back then. It's a realistic lipstick scent made slightly darker, suggesting dark lips exhaling a curl of clove cigarette smoke right outside the goth club. Does it smell like The Cure? Bauhaus? Siouxsie? The Sisters of Mercy? London After Midnight? I can't decide, but it suits all of them.
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Throw all your candy corn and toffee into the bonfire, then stand back and revel in the smell of burnt sugar rising from the flames. The melting mass of candy corn has an undertone of sweet almond, and there is also a something of a caramel undertone from the toffee. There is something both recognizable and unrecognizable about the candies that has been sacrificed. They are, and they are not. When the fire goes out, the edges of this monstrous lump of sugar have been completely burnt, while the rest has been caramelized, a ghost of what it used to be and also a monster.
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There is something sinister about this treat, far from brightly colored candies eagerly received on an well-lit porch, but something curious offered by the gnarled hands of something that is reluctant to let you see its face until its head emerges from the shadows and you run shrieking into the night, forgetting whether or not you dropped whatever it gave you. The sour apple mash is some strong moonshine, with something of a dusty feel coming from the dried apple, and while the molasses is not at the forefront, there is an undercurrent of it adding a dark but mild sweetness. This is the type of apple scent that makes me think of the creaky old cider press at a local farm that has long since been razed to the ground. While there are no woody or dust notes here, it feels as if there are jars of dried apples and apple liquor and molasses sitting in the kitchen of an abandoned farmhouse that is almost definitely haunted.
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This is what happens when trick-or-treaters grow up. Imagine the peanut butter chews from your Halloween plunder melted into a sticky gloop, swirled into spiced pumpkin fudge, and drowned in bourbon. It's decadence and naughtiness that makes no apologies for an egregious amount of calories. Of course, this is primarily a pumpkin spice confection, but there is plenty of sweet and creamy pumpkin fudge to balance the spice. The peanut butter note is almost chewy like those Mary Janes you either love or hate (I love them) and would inevitably get a handful of from some neighbor every Halloween. What seems like an innocent treat is made devilish with a hefty swig of bourbon whose fire you would definitely be able to taste if this was actually something edible, not the sort of thing you shouldn't drive home wearing, but boozy enough to give that tired witch costume thigh-highs and fishnets.
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Serket was the ancient Egyptian goddess of healing bites and stings, and is often depicted with a scorpion atop her head. Her scent is a sweet spiced plum that is like a sophisticated sugarplum. One of the elements that adds to the sweetness here is definitely sugarcane because I recognize that same note from Dia and Velvet Nudie; it starts out fresh and sweet with a greenish floral tinge and dries down to a warm brown-sugary sweetness. I'm guessing there is also white honey in here because while I don't distincly get a traditional honey note there is something else supporting the sugarcane. Since honey also has soothing properties, which would fit into the theme of a healing goddess, it's highly likely that's what it is. The plum is more of a fresh plum note than the smoky Hellion or Snake Charmer plums, though it still is very fragrant. It is deepened by soft resins, I'm guessing some ambers and possibly sweet myrrh, and finished off by subtle spice. There must be cinnamon though it stays subdued, maybe a bit of ginger or allspice. There can't be any cardamom because I'd know that instantly. There is something else that might be among the spices though I might be hallucinating; the ancient Egyptians used coriander to fight fever, and while I'm not quite sure it may be in there for the historical value. This is a really lovely scent that is fit for a deity.
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This one takes me straight to summer! It' a fresh cherry and almond scent that makes me think of sitting outside and eating just-cracked almonds and cherries that are in season. Since most almond scents tend to have a cherryish tinge on me that only makes the two notes work together even better. The almond note here isn't a roasted or caramelized almond note, or marzipan, but quite literally like sticking your nose to the actual nut. The cherry is a tart red cherry, like bing cherry rather than black cherry. It's very cheerful and is making me crave sunshine and the warmer weather that should be just around the corner. For a vampire like me to say that, you know it must be good.
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Sin in the Pumpkin Patch There's all manner of shenanigans in this year's pumpkin patch! Pumpkin'ized hybrids of GC BPAL scents abound! This is like a pumpkin doing burlesque. The warm, creamy, comforting pumpkin appears all wholesome until it gets entangled with the blatant sensuality of Sin. Even though I tend to amp cinnamon, it behaves rather well here. The pumpkin note is lightly spiced, and I also think that the pumpkin just being present balances out the cinnamon of Sin so it smells more subtle than that of the original does on me. It warms the blend as a whole, but doesn't stomp all over it. At least on my skin, the most prominent note in Sin that dances with the pumpkin--and probably what makes this such a sexy pumpkin--is the black patchouli. Supported by the amber and sandalwood, which give it additional depth (read: even sexier) it crosses pumpkin over into territory I never thought pumpkin would go to. It's like putting that jack-o-lantern-next-door in black lace stockings that take her from pumpkin shell to bombshell.
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The house at No. 157 is kept by Mrs Valentine, who has four ladies in attendance and ready to receive gentlemen into their tender arms. This is a second class house. Lacy white vanilla, mallow flower, white sandalwood, sweet oudh, and a drop of red musk. I might be a fan of everything dark and unholy, but I love this ethereal white scent. Clouds of fluffy vanilla and mallow amp on me, like a more sophisticated version of vanilla marshmallows. White sandalwood is an iffy note for my skin but thankfully this one behaved on my chemistry and acted more as a hint of a something sultry along with the oudh and tinge of red musk rather than a screeching white sandalwood banshee. Mrs. Valentine is somehow innocent and sexy all at once, even for a proprietress of a house of ill repute.
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This is a first class Ladies Seminary, conducted by an accomplished and intelligent young lady, who has a class composed of seven beautiful young lady scholars who do credit to her establishment. The house is newly furnished in a magnificent style, is very quiet and orderly, and first class in every respect. A sophisticated arrangement of graceful blooms: cherry blossoms, Florentine iris, violet absolute, and wisteria, warmed by honey, almonds, and cacao. I can't possibly resist anything with wisteria, and the floral charms of Miss Anna do not disappoint. It's like the first flowers off spring blossoming straight form the bottle, and while lit starts off like a shower of petals, it is eventually warmed up by a lovely backdrop of honey and almond with a slight shadow from what I'm assuming is the cacao. Wisteria is one of my favorite florals and while I don't amp it, it doesn't vanish after the drydown. This is not a screeching floral but more of what I like to call a fairytale floral. It starts off innocent and slowly reveals something telling about its namesake. Who knew a painted lady could be so respectable?
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The house No. 101 is of the third class, and contains nothing worthy of attention. A little shabby: dusty sandalwood and cold black tea. I was really, really hoping this would be like All Hallows' Eve 1917 on me, that same scent of dusty light beaming in through a window at dusk. Alas my skin chemistry and the sandalwood just couldn't agree with each other. I amp many types of sandalwood and sadly I amped this one to the point of it going from swirling dust to the strong dry wood I was so desperately hoping wouldn't rear its Cerberus head. The black tea was completely overshadowed. It is, however, and atmospheric scent, and if it was an atmo, I would probably love it!
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Lady Death in all her savage glory: an unrelenting supernatural warrior witch! White musk, grey amber, Calabrian bergamot, vanilla absolute, French labdanum, styrax, wormwood, caraway, and bois de jasmin. Warrior witch indeed. I couldn't possibly resist this for the theme alone, and the scent is just.....sex. Not a smutty scent, but something that clings to the skin with a fierce edge. The Lab's ethereal white musk is given a dusky feel by the grey amber, and a nonfoody vanilla that is sweet enough to complement the blend but doesn't overpower. I should note that I tend to amp vanilla so it may be a little sweeter on me than on someone who doesn't. The labdanum and styrax give it a substantial resinous anchor that layers very well with the gray amber and emerges more over time. There is something, though, that I can't really put my finger on--something that gives it that extra oomph--maybe that rare jasmine that actually likes me? The caraway? I really doubt the wormwood note is what does it though its interaction with something might give that result. I have a feeling it's from the intermingling of more than one note. Either way, this is a scent that almost hisses its darkly sexual aura, and is the olfactory equivalent of a leather catsuit (without the leather). Love it.
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BARD A ridiculously charismatic blend of bay rum, honey, and white musk mingling with the scent of harp wood and lute strings and the twang of horn brass. How do I love thee, Bard? Let me count the ways. I love your clouds of vanilla, your light, white florals, your sheer musk. There is definitely vanilla here, but it is not a buttery or foody or overly sweet vanilla but an airy nonfoody vanilla that does have something of a cloud-like quality. I would say it's more a vanilla orchid than anything else. It's difficult to pick out exactly what floral notes are in here; they start out fresh and dew-covered, even a little green, but dry down soft with a slight (pleasant) powderiness. Definitely white florals for the most part. I think I pick up some lily of the valley and a trace of iris, but there must be other types of white flowers in here as well because it's too complex to just be those two. Later on in the drydown I pick up the musk, something that must involve white musk since I can detect that pure, clean-but-not-soapy scent in here. There may or may not be skin musk in here too, difficult to tell since it's so well blended. The musk(s?) give it a slight warmth but on the whole I would say this is neither warm or cool, the same type of neutral feel as Thieves Rosin but an entirely different scent. It's on the feminine side of unisex and also really uplifting. I swear when they're released I'm getting all four of these.
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So here we have another lovely ghost ship story: the Lady Lovibond set sail on Feb. 13 of all days. Her captain thought it would make a novel setting for his wedding reception belowdecks; what he didn't see coming was the jealous first mate who allegedly crashed the ship into a sand bank. Its phantom is said to reappear around there every 50 years. This is a multifaceted blend. It actually evokes the atmosphere of a tropical locale where a ship like the Lady Lovibond (which was actually headed to Portugal) would dock for the honeymoon that never happened: lush greens and heady exotic blooms, possibly orchid, tuberose, ylang ylang, pikake. I'm tempted to say gardenia but I don't distinctly get gardenia from this though it may be hiding in there somewhere since the floral aspect has an overall tropical vibe. The greens start off a little sharp and slightly lemony but the lemony tinge quickly mellows and allows the flowers to shine. I In the background there is that same distinct seaspray note as in the Mary Celeste proto, except it is given an additional burst of refreshment by what must definitely be a hint of cucumber. It doesn't scream cucumber per se, just gives it a vibe of clear skies and open air above the sparkling ocean water. The sea and sky coupled with the leaves and flowers make for an entire scented landscape. All these elements make for a fascinating blend, and I imagine it will only improve with age. Methinks there is a ghost ship series being tinkered with here. It's tantalizing me like hell and I only hope it becomes a reality!
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DRUID A woolen robe infused with the scent of a vast, primordial forest: ancient trees, fertile soil, wild herbs, spring grasses, and burgundy pitch incense. Druid smells ancient in the best possible way. I've always been fascinated by Druids in both history and fiction, and this scent evokes all the mental images I've had of them. There are definitely a lot of dark resins and woods here, overgrown with moss and vines like a forest that has gone completely untouched since time immemorial. There is something of an earthy backdrop to it as well, probably with a bit of black patchouli grounding it. I think there is cedar in this but the fact that my skin doesn't turn it into a hamster cage means it's very subtle, and if I'm not mistaken it reminds me of the black cedar in An Altar to Cold Dark Rigid Death. Complex and intriguing, not promouncedly masculine as it may seem with all the wood notes ( I think there's oak in as well and some sort of bark). I'm looking forward to the final iteration of this.
