Helas

Tombeur from the still available Vampires Don't Sleep Alone series is really, really good if you like smoky, sultry, Snake-Oily vanilla blends. It feels like a more complex Snake Pit scent to me.

I thought I wasn't a fan of foody scents, but BPAL is proving me wrong! Atlas is just quirky enough to hold my attention. It smells like roasting marshmallows on a campfire in a middle of a haunted forest. The mallow note is very sweet and slightly burnt. The woods are dark, smoky, and ominous. The coffee is bitter and balances out the fluffy sweetness of the mallow very nicely. Atlas comes across as androgynous-to-masculine to me, probably because I associate outdoorsy scents with men's colognes. I have to admit I have trouble associating it with the adorable moth on the label - as a whimsical foody scent, it seems more in line with the Monster Bait line to me (Monster Bait: Campfire?) It is a cute and comforting scent with a slight bite to it and I can see myself wearing it regularly once fall comes around, though it may be a touch too sweet for the sweltering summer heat.

I didn't fall in love with Tombeur at first sniff; it starts off high-pitched and almost strident, all harsh smoky vetiver and dry sandalwood and astringent lavender, with the amber and Snake Oil firmly in the background. A few minutes later, though, I perceived the most heavenly mixture of sandalwood, vetiver, and honeyed resins wafting up from my arms, surrounded by curls of delicate, spicy smoke that remind me of clove. The bitter almond is fortunately nowhere to be seen. The bitterness of the vetiver and the astringency of the lavender balance out the sweetness of the Snake Oil and give it a darker, more sophisticated feel. The resulting smell makes me think of an ancient Babylonian palace - opulent and golden and thoroughly corrupt. Sexy as hell, and a perfect translation of the concept. This has already become one of my favourite scents.

Since Boomslang worked out so well on me, I have been giving the chocolate scents a chance. Unfortunately, Bliss is the kind of chocolate scent that will never do anything for me. It's very sweet and greasy and makes me feel as though I have been deep fried and then coated in butter and corn syrup. I'm not even that big a fan of milk chocolate in real life - dark chocolate with cream or liquor filling is where it's at for me - so this doesn't come across as a big surprise. I'm sure this one has legions of adoring fans, and it doesn't need me. Two out of five stars.

Antonino the Carny Talker is essentially an uncomplicated fruity blend on me. I get mainly fig and plum, which give me a dark purple visual impression. The coconut is almost woody and reminds me of the similar note in Perversion. I don't get any lemon, but citrus notes are fragile and I have an aged partial bottle, so it may simply have vanished. And I may very well be the only person disappointed by the complete absence of noticeable vetiver in this blend. It would have made this blend into something darker and more full-bodied. Currently, Antonino is pretty but lacks the quirk and complexity that I hoped for based on the notes. A good scent for melting into crowds, but I doubt a true circus announcer would get much mileage out of it. Three out of five stars.

I've had good luck with the BPAL "greatest hits" so far and Mme. Moriarty is no exception, even though she is completely unlike what I expected based on the notes and reviews. I thought she would probably end up smelling like a fruity version of the Snake Pit blends, with that kind of dark, decadent sexuality. She is just a little too strange to qualify as "sexy" for me, though. I get sharp pomegranate and a very bitter patchouli with a medicinal, almost mentholic herbal note. The vanilla is very subtle and creamy rather than sweet, and comes out mostly on the drydown. I may sound as though I dislike it, but I don't - I find it harsh but oddly alluring. Of all the scents that I've tried so far, it reminds me most of Black Annis - they share a kind of otherworldly beauty that comes across as ugly at the first encounter but has a hypnotic quality that encourages repeated visits. I'm a bit surprised at its popularity, though, since it doesn't exactly strike me as a crowd-pleaser. Four out of five stars.

I love the *idea* of smelling like wine, but most of the Lab's wine blends so far have had a very sweet, artificial grape flavour that reminds me more of cheap grape soda than actual wine. The Zadok Allen Vineyard is the first one I have tried that smells like a genuine fine wine - heady and alcoholic, with a pleasant tannic bitterness. I get some oak as well, which makes me think of the old-fashioned tavern that was my friends' drinking hole of choice when we were students. I don't get the other ingredients, which is fine by me (no blood, thank goodness - that would have been a little too weird for me). I've been longing for an uncomplicated but realistic wine scent and this is it for me. Four out of five stars.

I'm not too sure how to rate this one, because on the one hand, it smells absolutely disgusting, but on the other hand, with that description and a name like "Brimstone," I can't exactly complain of false advertising. If you're looking to surround yourself with the delicious aroma of hot cement and burning plastic, this is the blend for you (and who am I to judge? I like the smell of paint thinner and fresh gasoline.) I just happen to prefer my perfumes to be a bit more on the, er, perfumey side. Whic is to say, I'm just too square for this one. One out of five stars.

I have to admit that I would never have tried this blend on my own, given the ingredients list. Vanilla, honey, sugar, cherry, AND benzoin? That sounds like the olfactory equivalent of deep fried butterscotch ice cream coated in triple chocolate fudge and sprinkled with candy bits for good measure. And to be fair, Kypris *is* extremely pink and sweet. It reminds me of cotton candy. I'm not generally a fan of foody scents, but this one makes me a bit nostalgic, since I was obsessed with finding the holy grail of cotton candy scents as a preteen. This is pretty much it - sweet but too airy to ever get cloying or nausea-inducing, with a pleasant bite from the lemon and an almost alcoholic quality. I would have gotten a lot more enjoyment out of this one ten years ago, but I do like it and may end up tracking down a fuller decant (since I only have a tester right now). Three out of five stars.

I love the artwork and inspiration behind this one, but I'm afraid I'll have to chalk up the scent itself as one of my losses. The Lab's almond note so far has been a deal-breaker for me. In Organ Grinder, as usual, it is sweet to the point of cloyingness, but with a musty, decayed quality. Rich but stomach-churning, like a long-forgotten bar of marzipan. I can't even blame my skin chemistry, since the blend probably smells like what it's supposed to on me - it is foody and masculine with a pleasant smokiness, and I'm sure that many people would love it. I just don't respond well to the almond note. This someone else's scent, and I have to let it go. Two out of five stars.

I loved the description for this one, but was let down by the scent. It's definitely dominated by the bergamot on me, with the ambergris playing second fiddle and no eucalyptus in sight. My mental image is of a gin and tonic with a squirt of lemon, and not the Devil's coral reef that I was hoping for. I could see this one fitting right in with the Atomic Luau scents, but it seems far too cheerful and sparkly for a Lovecraft-themed blend. I've given this one away, since I have plenty of more interesting aquatic scents. Three out of five stars.

Nyarlathotep is probably my favourite of the Picnic in Arkham series. It's a gorgeous, dark, velvety aquatic scent on me, with a kind of luminous quality from the ozone and a rich, smoky glow from the incense. It's also probably the best scent in the series at evoking its theme, since most of the other blends come across as far too cheerful to me. That being said, it does have a little of a mainstream cologne vibe. I don't mind that personally but people who are turned off by "perfumey" scents may not get all that much gothic joy out of this one. My father, who is a huge fan of the whole Picnic in Arkham line, "borrowed" this one and lost it. I'll probably be ordering some more eventually, since I have yet to find any other scent in the BPAL catalogue that is anything like it. Four out of five stars.

Like all of the Picnic in Arkham scents that I have tried so far, Azathoth is surprisingly friendly-smelling. I get a little dry saffron, but this is mainly a cedar and vetiver blend. I went on a hiking trip in an ancient evergreen forest as a teenager, and this makes me think of that place, where the cedar trees were totally unlike the tiny ones that we grow in the city, with branches so tall that in some places they obscured the sun. Although I don't get an evil vibe from this at all, it does smell ancient and primeval. Unfortunately, I get no tangerine at all, which is disappointing since I was looking forward to the contrast of such a light, sweet note with the spicy woods. Azathoth has a warm, homey masculine strength, halfway between the lumberjack camp and the spice cupboard. (I'm thinking of Monty Python's Lumberjack Song right now; for the X-Men geeks, I could also see a Wolverine connection.) Who would have thought that Azathoth would be so soft-hearted underneath his tentacular exterior? Four out of five stars.

This is the scent that convinced me to place my first order. The name alone would have guaranteed it a place in my cart, but I was also thrilled by the idea of a dark aquatic. That being said, doom and gloom seem to be difficult concepts to express in aquatic scent form. Aquatics are associated in my mind (and probably in most people's) with beach-themed sprays and athletic colognes. They generally smell cheerful, sparkly, sunny, a little citrusy, and full of energy. Cthulhu is no exception. The mysterious "seaweed" note does its hardest to evoke sunless ocean floors but eventually fails to overcome the relentless lemony freshness of the blend. This is closer to the cute cuddly Cthulhu of "Hello Chtulhu" than the unspeakably evil alien god of the Lovecraft mythos. As far as peppy aquatic scents go, though, this one is a flawless and a good essential-oil substitute for mainstream men's athletic colognes. My father ended up stealing my vial from me and eventually asked me to buy him a bottle for his birthday, which makes me suspect that it would be a great entry-level drug for manly men reluctant to drop their heady aftershaves for hippy essential oils. Madness-inducing slithering good cheer! Four out of five stars.

51 gives me a feeling of deja-vu (deja-senti?) and smell-induced flashbacks to my adolescence. (From reading the reviews, I suppose that Alien may have been a trendy perfume at my high school.) It is not a conventional perfume by any means - honeydew melon, guava, and the ozone-like night air aren't exactly Chanel's favourite ingredients - but it does come across as more "perfumey" than most BPAL oils. If I didn't know any better, I would swear there is alcohol in here. I suspect the white musk, which is the dominant ingredient in 51 along with the melon, is what makes this scent so heady. I get a strong hot pink and fluorescent green visual impression as well as a clean vibe. 51 is definitely gender-neutral and would make a great aftershave for a quirky, geeky man. I enjoy it but find it a bit too heavy for summertime wear, which is surprising because I could have sworn melon and guava would make for a refreshing combo. Four out of five stars.

I admit that I bought this blend mainly for nerdy reasons - that is, because I like the name and the bottle art, and because the Wind and the Willows was one of my favourite childhood books (and shows! Does anyone else remember the old stop-motion TV adaptation?) That being said, the blend turned out to be so exceptionally beautiful and evocative that it rocketed right away to the top of my favourites' list. On my skin, the orange and pine come out very strongly at first, and then fade progressively over time. The musk and amber are warm and make me think of rays of sunlight falling on a forest clearing. The patchouli gives an impression of loamy earth, so rich and sweet that it reminds me of chocolate, although it lacks the buttery quality that makes me queasy in most chocolate blends. The florals are have a subtle, understated wildflower scent - not at all cloying or heady. There is also a strong mossy quality, although I have no idea where it comes from since moss is not listed in the ingredients. My only complaint is that the throw and duration are both far below average, although I have managed to extend both by using lotion. Gorgeous and a perfect illustration of the children's book. Five out of five stars.

Golden Wave is a cheerful, uncomplicated summer blend. On my skin, I get mostly tangerine and guava, although I can perceive the passion fruit when I tell myself that it's there. I don't get a boozy feel from this blend at all, which is good since the gin element was the one ingredient that made me hesitate to buy this blend. There is definitely a sparkly, effervescent quality from the "tonic." The blend is very tangy with little sweetness on my skin. I'm grateful for that because, even though I've enjoyed the other Luau blends that I've tried, I found most of them a little too candy-like. Golden Wave smells as advertised - like a tall, refreshing tropical drink. I'm glad that I had the chance to buy a bottle before the Atomic Luau series was discontinued. Four out of five stars.

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil smells like vegan fruitcake to me - the kind that is so chock-full of candied fruits that it doesn't actually need to be sweetened by anything else. I definitely get the fig and the pomegranate, as well as a very sweet, marzipan-like almond. There is a little spice from the cinnamon but it's overwhelmed by all the juicy sweetness. The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is pleasant enough but too sweet and food-like for me. For this type of of scent, I prefer Eden, which is a little less sweet and has coconut. Three out of five stars.

I think it's time for me to review a long-standing favourite that doesn't get nearly enough love. Love's Torments is minimalistic perfection. Unlike most of the BPAL perfumes that I have tried so far, this one does not attempt to evoke a specific mood or atmosphere through a complex blend of contrasting ingredients. Instead, Love's Torments is all about coaxing out the beauty out of an unpopular ingredient - vetiver - by placing it against a simple backdrop of elements that play up to its strengths and soften its harshness. The result is, probably, the single most beautiful vetiver blend I have ever tried. Vetiver, to me, smells like exuberant greenery, like a jungle or an overgrown garden. It is lovely in small amounts but can come across as raw and bitter when dominant. Sandalwood, on the other hand, is very sweet and dry-smelling. The sandalwood in Love's Torments successfully tames the rawness of the vetiver and make it smell like a luxurious exotic wood. The orange blossom, which sometimes comes across as bitter in other blends, is a light citrusy ghost that infuses a bit of sweetness into the blend and smoothes out the edges in the woods. The resulting scent is gentle, warm, spicy, and strangely comforting. It feels like falling asleep on a tree stump in the midst of a grassy meadow on a sunny day. My sister, who used to hate vetiver, is now a convert because of this blend. As for me, I have found my holy grail of vetiver scents. Five out of five stars.

Every shipment I have ordered from the Lab so far has contained a scent so revolting, bizarre, and horrifying that I wonder how it even made it past the brainstorming stage. There's been Delphi - rotten tomatoes and garbage; Lilith - dusty grape bubblegum; Jabberwocky - an eerily accurate rendition of Vicks Vaporub; brimstone, which smells like, well, brimstone; and now White Rabbit, which smells like all sorts of different things, none of them pleasant. The first smell that slaps me in the face is a wet dog smell that makes me think of dirty dishcloths that have been improperly hung to dry and have acquired that sour, mildewed scent. There is also something that reminds me of sour cream, and a saltiness that makes me think of pickles. My nose is confused and my brain has trouble processing the smell; I keep thinking, "No, it's just not possible that this could be this bad - oh, no, wait, it IS that bad and worse." I kind of look forward to getting that one nasty sample, particularly if it was sent for free, since it's good for laughs. If my first imp pack had contained Delphi, Lilith, Jabberwocky, Brimstone, and White Rabbit though, I doubt I would have bought from the Lab again, since I can't imagine paying to smell like this. One out of five stars.

Scherezade is a gorgeous, musky spice blend on me when wet. Unfortunately, once dry, it loses all the promise that it held at the beginning and becomes a dry, dusty scent that makes me think of spiced clay. After having tried a few blends with saffron, I am beginning to think that it may be the problem note here, as it tends to dry out into an almost mineral dust note that smothers all the other elements in a scent. Scherezade does not smell of mystery and wonder to me; it smells like an old cupboard. Unfortunately, my Middle Eastern niche has yet to be filled. The wet stage is beautiful, though; if only it could stay that way. Two out of five stars.

I'm not generally a fan of blends that feature rose as a prominent note. They tend to either go very sharp and sour on me, or else give off a soapy, old-fashioned, pot-pourri-like vibe that, while pleasant enough, is just not me. Whoso List to Hunt is a pleasant surprise. The rose is definitely the dominant element, but it is a very gentle, soft, fresh-smelling rose. The moss and the musk remind me of one of my favourite blends, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn; Whoso List to Hunt comes across as a more feminine version of that scent to me. The end result is a little old-fashioned, but in a good way. I get images of ivy-covered stone cottages and wild animals roaming through overgrown gardens. Earthy and delicate and very English. Four out of five stars.

Wet, on me, Akuma is all screaming neroli - harsh and acidic. Fortunately, it calms down quickly and becomes an enjoyable and low-key fruity blend. The raspberry and orange are sweet and a little tart. I can see where people get a candy-like impression from this, although the neroli's bitter floral keeps the blend from smelling edible to me. Akuma is pretty, not too sweet, and perfect for the summer. It lacks the complexity and evocative qualities of my favourite BPAL blends, though. Three out of five stars.

This one is worth getting, just for the bottle. The image on the label is adorable! The scent itself is dark and strange and completely unlike anything that I expected. The sandalwood is the strongest note at first, but the tobacco flower comes out on drydown and takes over the scent. I've never smelled it before, but I can recognize it - it recalls, distantly, cigarette ash, although it is much fresher and sweeter. I barely get any vanilla, and I'm not sure how I feel about that; I love vanilla, but this blend does not really need to be any sweeter. There is also a strong musky presence, I would assume from the castoreum. I can see where people might think this is too cologne-like, although I personally find it much too odd to associate it to department-store aftershave. Minamoto no Yorimitsu has, to me, a haunted house atmosphere - smoky, murky and dark. It makes me think of wooden shutters rattling in the night and strange shadows flickering in dark corners. Because of the sandalwood - which always makes me think "Buddhist temple" - I also get a vaguely East Asian vibe, which means that it is a perfect complement to the illustration. Great for wearing to bed and spooking oneself out. Four out of five stars.

On the vial, and when wet, this smells like spicy cherries! WTF? I have never had an almond scent do that to me before. Once it dries, the cherry scent does acquire a drier, nutty edge that brings it back into almond territory. There is also a strident saffron note that makes me think of inhaling a lungful of dust. Queen of Sheba is foody, but not the kind of food that I would consider edible - more like a bowl of sugared almonds that have been left uncovered in the spice cabinet for a few months. It's very sweet, but too dry and musty to be appetizing. The late drydown is very similar to Scherezade, which also did not work on me. I'm about to give up on these oriental/desert blends, and on the bulk of the Ars Amatoria category, since most of the blends here have turned out to be abysmal on me. Two out of five stars.