LadyWilde

I never, ever, ever get foodie scents. Just the idea of walking around smelling like cookies or candies or nuts makes me nauseous. I also generally don't buy bottles unsniffed (and therefore don't usually buy LEs), so what motivated me to order Gingerbread Poppet is a complete and utter mystery to me. But boy was my intuition dead-on with this one! I don't think I can add anything that someone else hasn't said, but this really does smell exactly like gingerbread. It morphs throughout the day from sweet to doughy to spicy and finally settles into a doughy-sweet-spicy perfect scent that lasts for hours. It's a very comforting, homey scent, and I'm sure it would be lovely in an oil burner, as many others have mentioned. Also, I can't help wondering what this would smell like on a guy. I think I would like very much to snuggle up to someone who smells like gingerbread.

The notes in this one all seem to be battling each other for dominance, but ultimately (surprise!), jasmine wins. Within minutes of touching my skin, this goes almost pure jasmine, with the barest hint of something fruity-sweet (plum, I suppose). I was hoping for the currant and lemon to add some tartness to the party to lighten things up a bit, but nope, didn't happen. The jasmine monster said no. After a couple of hours, it went soapy. Very fancy jasmine soap, but soap nonetheless. Damn jasmine. She'd be so pretty if she weren't such a vicious attention whore all the time. :angry2:

Pretty and light, but still a little on the too-sweet side. On me, this is all candied rose, with a milky base that tries valiantly to put in an appearance to balance the sweetness. . .but never quite makes it.

Note to self: Ozone does not like you, and you do not like it, no matter how much you wish that weren't the case. Give up. Yup, detergent and pesticide, the same thing I got with Szespassony. No incense at all. Sigh.

Definitely mineral, definitely vanilla. This is so odd I'm not sure what to think of it. . .but I couldn't stop sniffing my wrist all afternoon while I was wearing it. I think I might like it. UPDATE: Nope, I was wrong. I don't like it. When I tried it again, the first thing I thought was, "Hmm. This smells like my Auntie Barbara." Now, Aunt Barbara is a wonderful woman whom I love very much, and she certainly doesn't smell bad, but she is in her 70s and does tend to smell rather powdery and a little perfumey. Not really what I want to smell like.

Oh, damn. I put this on last night before bed, and all night I smelled cigarette butts and bubblegum swirled through Snake Oil. What the hell? Where could I have possibly gotten that from? Dissappointed, I am.

SWEET! Super sweet. Cloyingly sweet, in fact. I wasn't expecting that. After a few hours, it mellowed to a very soft, very pretty and feminine amber. I like it, but there are other amber fragrances I like better. I'll definitely hang on to the imp, though.

In the imp, Whitechapel is candied citrus and lilac. . .yum. Unfortunately, it turned to lilac Pledge on my skin. Not a bad smell--if they sold Lilac Pledge I would happily buy it and use it on my furniture--but not what I want to smell like. After a few hours, it goes sort of soft and lilac/white musk-y. This stage is really quite pretty, but I'm not sure it's worth the initial sharp furniture-polish smell. I really, really want this to work for me (I've been fascinated by Jack the Ripper for years), so I'll try it a few more times before I give up on it. Right now, though, I rate it a, "Meh." UPDATE: After trying Whitechapel a few more times, I am convinced that the Lilac Pledge thing was a fluke, and I have updated my rating from "Meh" to "Yay!". It still has that initial burst of citrus, but after it dries down the citrus fades into the background. It also keeps its tart little lime arms tightly wrapped around the lilac from behind, keeping it from doing that headachey old-lady floral thing that lilac sometimes does. The white musk provides a smooth, subtle base note. Now, there's nothing in this scent that to me says "sinister," but it is, somehow, nonetheless. It calls to mind an image of a well-dressed Victorian gentleman who will tip his hat to you on a warm Spring afternoon, and then slit your throat in the alley that night. Also, even though Whitechapel is supposed to be traditionally masculine, I don't find that it is. It strikes me instead as one of those great androgynous scents that can work for either (or rather, for any) gender. Perhaps that charming Victorian Jack is in fact a Jill under the lightweight summer suit? I am currently in the market for a light warm-weather scent, and this one is definitely in the running. I may need a big bottle.

The Four Hundred divine rabbits of the Aztec pantheon that preside over parties and drunkenness. Bittersweet Mexican cocoa with rum, red wine, and a scent redolent of sacrificial blood. I got this as a frimp, so I had no idea what was in it when I first sniffed it. When I smelled it in the imp, my first thought was, "Conversation hearts and buttered hazelnuts." Okay, so I knew that the "conversation heart" note I was getting was probably something else (ya think?), but I was morally certain that there was hazelnut in this. I put a little on the crook of my arm, and it instantly went itchy and red. . .which hazelnut is wont to do on me. I immediately handed it to my roommate, who tried it and smelled hazelnuts and flowers. Bizarre. I can't figure this one out, but the roomie likes it, and she too finds the story of the 400 divine rabbits to be just as odd and compelling as the scent itself.

Geniuses, you people are! Okay, I've got one: OSCAR WILDE GIFT PACK: Wilde Dorian La Bella Donna Della Mia Mente Ave Maria Gratia Plena Endymion London Maybe packed in a tea cup with a green carnation or a white calla lily, with a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray or collection of his poems? Maybe with a tin of fine English tea? I would be thrilled to pieces if I got something like that for Christmas, but then again, I'm a geek.

I have a deeply held personal belief that a touch (or more) of citrus goes with just about anything, and that chocolate orange is one of the loveliest scents known to man. I blended my own using cacao absolute and wild orange EO. I really, really like the wild orange (as opposed to clementine, blood orange, sweet orange, etc) because it's not as sweet. It's tart without being particularly sour, so I like it to counterbalance the sweetness and richness of the chocolate. I haven't tried Bliss (it's on the list, though), but if it's a true milk chocolate scent like the description says, I bet it would go beautifully with just a few drops of wild orange. If you're looking for a very rich, very sweet and exotic orange, try blood orange. It's beautiful. (Is it odd that every time I try to type "wild," I end up typing "wilde"?)

Again with the spoiling of the bpal mood, but if you're into amber scents, you should check out edenbotanicals.com. They carry a line of amber essence oils and solid resins that are absolutely gorgeous, and the site contains lots of interesting info about what exactly amber actually is and where it comes from (as well as lots of fun EO/aromatherapy/natural perfumery stuff). I have yet to meet a fragrance, bpal or otherwise, that can't be improved by a drop or two of amber essence oil. It makes the amber-y bpal (O is my favorite so far; admittedly I haven't tried many yet) even more amber-y, and adds a lovely warm richness to the non-ambery ones (Ophelia, oddly enough, is lovely layered with amber). Yep, I do love me some amber.

This is nice. Not for me, but nice. In the imp, I smell fresh, tart apples. Wet on my skin, the same. For a brief period after that, I get whispers of spice with the apple and I smell like dessert. . .yum. Too soon, though, the spices are replaced by a perfumey, almost air-freshener-y note that's not offensive, per se, but isn't what I want to smell like. Also, unlike every other BPAL I've tried, this is virtually gone after only a couple hours. Eh, oh well. I bet it'd make a beautiful room scent, as others have mentioned. On my friend, this smells like warm apple pie. Lucky.

What a brilliant idea! I bought a little chunk of amber resin at my friendly neighborhood occult/magic/pagan shop for five bucks (which happens to be called Amber Moon), and I love it! Just like Alice suggested, I just stroke it on my pulse points (wrists, insides of elbows, neck), and it smells wonderful. It's a very warm, rich scent that's sweet, a bit spicy, and even has a somewhat (almost, kind of) buttery note to it, although it's not even the least bit foody. It's a very subtle, soft, second-skin kind of scent that clings close but lasts all day. I love it on its own, but I think I'm going to try layering it with Snake Oil or O. Thanks for the great idea, Alice!

Oh, pretty! I like this very much, and I am picky as hell when it comes to florals. I ordered this because I identify with Ophelia: I too tend to fall for boring, long-winded, ineffectual basketcases with poor decision-making skills. That said, Ophelia is absolutely lovely. On me, it is rose sweetened by lotus and lily, the florals kept in check by the light watery greenness of ivy. After a few hours, a light, creamy, almost vanilla-y note appears, as well. It's subtle, soft, beautifully blended and utterly feminine. Wear this on the days you feel like wearing your baby-pink pumps and strolling through the park on your lunch break. The essence of innocent melancholy young-womanhood. Definitely a keeper.

Yep, 80s drug-store white musk. And, oddly, Avon Skin-So-Soft. And a drop of vanilla, maybe, which would be absolutely lovely without that other junk mucking it up. So very, very disappointed am I. EDIT: Um, hmmm. Huh. I, ah, well. . .hmmm. I can't figure this one out. I always try a scent at least twice unless it's truly offensive, and today, Dorian smells. . .different. The vanilla is more prominent, and I'm getting occasional hints of creaminess if I concentrate really, really hard. Still getting that weird musk, though, and absolutely none of the lovely tea/lemon/lavendar/honey/etc. notes that so many others have mentioned. Oh, well. It's wearable, and it's still my favorite novel even if it will probably never be my favorite bpal.

I don't know where on the forum I picked up the phrase "incensy cherry," but that is my impression of Snake Oil in a nutshell. Incensy cherry, with a hint of something darkly exotic, sweet, and compelling. Very nice. I died my hair bright red last night, decided to wear all black to work today, and figured it would be a good day to take my lovely little giftimp of Snake Oil for a test drive. The other night, during a little imp-sniffing session with a friend, I had gotten a bit on my skin and she declared that it smelled, "Snuggly, like something you'd wear when you were having a boy over." I think she meant "having a boy over" in the "snuggling on the couch watching movies sense," and not the "throwing him on the bed and ravaging him" sense. Leave it to my skin to take "SEX" and turn it into "snuggle." It did that with O, too. Also, as it did with O, my skin ate Snake Oil's vanilla. I get no vanilla at all from this. Anyway, I was hoping I could coax some sexiness out of it with the black clothes and cherry-red hair, but nope, still smells sweet and sensual and, well, snuggly on me. It's very warm and inviting, and, although not my usual sort of scent, I like it quite a bit. Besides, I am a huge fan of snuggling. EDIT: Oh, wait. . .hours later, the vanilla makes an appearence. Neat. ADDITIONAL EDIT: Dude, this is so cool. I applied Snake Oil this morning to my left wrist and the crook of my right arm (I wear my watch on my right wrist), and now it is nearly 6pm, and my left wrist is nearly pure vanilla and my right arm smells of impossibly sexy spicy goodness. It's on my neck, too. I wish I could smell my own neck. How d'ya suppose the same oil can smell totally different not just on different days, but on different body parts on the same day?

Weird. This is just. . .weird. Wet on my skin, it was a very cool, fresh aquatic with soft floral tones. As soon as it dried, something sharp and rather nasty took over for about an hour (it smelled like dandelion and pesticide to me, daffodil and pesticide to my friend). Later, the same friend said she smelled melon. Then, it went through about a 2-hour stage when it was absolutely lovely--a clean, light floral. After that, and for the rest of the evening until I showered it away, the general consensus was soap. Nice, expensive, herbal soap. . .but soap. All in all, not bad, but not big bottle-worthy.

My first thought after I swiped this on my wrist was that it smelled like this "love potion" I bought at an occult shop when I was about 13. This stuff was nasty--bright red and syrupy--but it smelled great and I wore it like perfume. It was light, watery, floral, herbal, a little soapy. . .just like Water of Notre Dame. WoND clings very close to the skin but lasts all day, and it does seem to have a calming effect on me. I like it. Not enough to buy a big bottle, but enough to keep the imp around for crazy days when I need something soothing and relaxing.

I don't think this should be called O. I think it should be called "Mmm." I really, really like it. I'm not getting the overpowering sense of SEX that some other reviewers get from this scent. To me, it's definitely sensual, but not overtly sexual. It doesn't make me want to pounce unsuspecting persons and have my way with them. . .but maybe sidle up close to someone and smile suggestively. In the imp, I smell honey and something sharp and unpleasant, and I am worried. Once on my skin, however, the sharpness disappears and I am left with pure, sweet honey. After it dries, it goes a little powdery, but not gross-old-lady powdery. . .it smells like Kama Sutra Honey Dust! Yay! I love that stuff but it's kind of expensive and the scent fades within minutes. After a few hours, O's amber makes itself known and blends beautifully with the honey, and this gorgeous ambered honey stage lasted for hours (in fact, until I showered it away before bed). The weird thing? I get no vanilla from this. Not in the imp, not wet, not dry. None at all. My skin usually turns lesser vanillas to play-doh and amplifies good vanillas (my skin is a vanilla snob, apparently), but O's vanilla it just. . .ate. Just as well, though. I can't imagine anything smelling better than ambered honey.

With Szepassony, I was hoping for delicate white flowers crushed in a bitingly cold rain storm, I was expecting a fresh airy citrus, but I got. . .laundry detergent. And grass. Pesticide-coated grass. On me, it turned both perfumey and bitter. It also lasted for hours and hours and hours. Yuck. I guess this Fair Lady and I just don't get along.

My very first review of my very first BPAL. So very exciting. In the bottle, I smelled musky jasmine. Wet on my skin, the same. Interesting. After it dried down, I'm still getting. . .you guessed it. . .musky jasmine. Not bad, since I like jasmine, but usually on me it goes from jasmine to screaming sweet JASMINE, but the muskiness is keeping the screaming sweetness at bay. There is also another element that I can't identify that's not quite creamy and not quite powdery, but oddly compelling. This is definitely a sexual scent. Another reviewer said "dirty jasmine," and that makes perfect sense to me. I can see why this blend was favored by ladies of the night. It's certainly unique, a little dirty, a little floral, a little animalistic. . .I like it. I'll have to spend some more time with it to see if it makes boys follow me. If it does, I'm thinking big bottle. If not, maybe I'll just enjoy my imp and skip the big bottle, since it's nice, but not an instant favorite. By the way, as I was sitting at my desk writing this review, a guy I work with (whom I happen to have a huge crush on) walked by and leaned in a little too close to me and my computer screen to see what exactly I was doing that clearly wasn't work. Hmmm. . .

Whoa. . .good one. Sounds like stumbling out of a frat house at 6am on a Sunday with a gorgeous boy beside you and his jacket draped around your shoulders, with the sun just coming up over campus. I could totally walk around smelling like that.

I hope there isn't a similar thread somewhere else. I did a search and couldn't find one, so, here goes: I was driving along today listening to Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me (The Cure. If you don't own it, you ought to.). The song "Icing Sugar" came on and what popped into my head was "Damn. I want to smell like this song sounds." Pounding percussion, thumping bass, wailing horns, and that voice. . .the whole nine. It's loud and overpoweringly sexy and yet somehow distant and cavernous and even cold. If you know the song, I think you get what I mean, even though I'm probably not describing it too well. Anyway, any recommendations as far as BPALs go? Also, if anyone else has any kind of song/scent connections, satisfy my slightly off-balance and synesthetic side and tell us about it!