redlisse

Me, several minutes after applying Dian's Bud: "OMG, smell me! I smell like the best bubble bath ever." And it's true. If bubble bath were a really lovely perfume, it'd smell like Dian's Bud. I know it sounds kind of weird, because who wants to smell like Mr. Bubbles? Maybe for novelty, but not as a regular everyday perfume. Yet I find myself wearing this one a couple times a week, and I frequently get compliments on it. This is a very soft, sweet not-quite-floral. If there are violets in this blend, they are subdued, soft, and almost creamy. The overall effect is clean but not crisp or soapy; slightly aquatic, a little blurry, and...very soft. This is the one I wear as a comfy scent, like a favorite pair of fuzzy jammie pants. I feel very mellow and homey wearing it - if I'm in a bouncy, chipper mood or if I want attention, I reach for something else. There's just something so sweet and unassuming about this blend, and I love that.

I don't know if Aunt Caroline's Joy Mojo works for me the way it's supposed to, or if it's just a placebo, but every time I put it on it's an instant mood-lifter. And I don't even think it smells that great. Not awful, but not great. (I'm told it smells like the pink cakes in men's room urinals.) But I keep an imp in my purse for those days when I just wake up cranky, or when my coworker/boyfriend wakes up cranky and spreads it. And, no kidding, thirty seconds after putting a drop in my hair, it's like the sun comes up. Not only do I get bouncy and happy and cheerful, but everyone in my vicinity does too. Which is a serious, serious blessing. *buys bottles and imps to share*

Arachne is a perfect example of what my skin does with even a hint of something that might resemble a note that might once have flirted with an aquatic in a past life. In the bottle, she's all sweet soft flowers - similar to the ones hiding behind all the wintergreen in Hamadryad - and herbs. On my skin, she bursts into nothing but a water note - a light, rainy scent instead of one of the heavier thick aquatics, but still water. That aside, I really like this. The overall impression kind of wavers between a light pale wood-and-floral and a watery, almost cottony little-girl perfume. Sometimes the herbs come out to play, with a light tanginess and a hint of woodspice. Yes, despite the rainy effect, I very much like Arachne.

Fresh out of the bottle, Joy Mojo smells like...bubble-gum scented bubble bath. Not real bubble-gum, but that bubble-gummy soap scent. As soon as it touches my skin, it veers into the related territory of "tutti-frutti toothpaste." You know, that fruity pink gel stuff with unicorns printed on the tube you got as a little kid. I always hated that stuff. Mere minutes later, I am informed that it smells precisely like a men's public restroom - cleaner and pink urinal cakes. I personally cannot vouch for this...but then, now it smells like pink, fruity marshmallow vanilla with toothpaste. With SO MUCH sugar. I dunno if it's bottled happiness, but...um....the scent isn't doing it for me.

I was really, really looking forward to this one - I drooled over it in last year's Yule update, but couldn't afford to buy anything. So I was thrilled that it came back this year. In the bottle, Jacob's Ladder is very warm-smelling and golden. I suck at notes generally, but it's not a bright sunshiney sort of warm; more like a nice cuddly amber. Very promising. Unfortunately, the oil hit my skin and collapsed into instant baby powder. I confess, of the many, many oils I have tried, this is my first baby powder experience; I'd read about it and been smugly content that I was not afflicted. Alas. After a few minutes, a big heap of spicy resin appears in the middle of all the powder; Jacob's Ladder is now a heavily spiced baby powder. And there it stays for the next six and a half hours (and still going, I might add). I wish some of my favorites had this much staying power. My Boyperson of Choice agrees with the Spiced Baby-Powder verdict, but thinks it's wonderful. He also thinks Mme. Moriarty (my current favorite) is "stinky." I say he has terrible taste in fragrances and will just have to put up with the stink, because Jacob's Ladder is giving me a headache.

I really wanted to like this. I knew I would like this - I was so sure, in fact, that I passed up an almost sure-thing (Krampus) to get a bottle unsniffed. Tobacco, leather, woods and linen? It still sounds perfect. Unfortunately, all I get is cherry. Not even cherry-fruit; cherry wood - which means that by the time it fades, the whole scent is gone. I can smell dry woods and leather underneath, but I can't appreciate them, because the cherry is overwhelmingly sweet and...kind of icky. The Boy won't even come near me until I wash it off - he says I stink. Which is quite the statement, because even when he describes a scent as 'cheap eighties hair gel' (Punkie Night - boy's sniffer is broken, says I) he's always pretty tolerant. But much as I've tried to convince myself to love the good Herr Drosselmeyer, I have to face reality...he's kind of a jerk.

I really, really suck (as a general rule) at picking out individual notes, but I swear that Bitch is almost straight-up chamomile. Chamomile tea even, with a smidgey-smidge of anise and maybe a touch of orange peel. I can almost taste honey - not because it's actually in the blend (I doubt it, as I turn even the most unassuming of honey notes into a cloud of syrupy sweet) but because I always add ridiculous amounts of honey to my chamomile tea. In the bottle, it's much more herbal and sharp; it's only after a quick drydown that Bitch turns into a cup of chamomile tea. I have no idea what the dominant note I'm smelling is until then. As for purpose - Bitch doesn't so much make the PMS go away as it makes it sort of optional. My hormones are vicious raging monsters right now, and frequently I feel like I have no control over what's coming out of my mouth, and my eyes seem to cry without me, and I'm prone to illogical temper tantrums (not like yelling screaming ones - I pout like a toddler). This blend doesn't make those urges any weaker, much less suppress them entirely; instead, I have a little bit of distance. It gives me the ability to say to myself, "I am being very unreasonable here, and this is a silly thing to cry over," and if I make an effort, I can stop. So...not a big, flashy miracle, but still very helpful - this Panacea is subtle and soothing as a mug of chamomile tea. I don't mind the scent, but wouldn't wear it as a perfume (though it lends a relaxing herbal edge to Snow White's vanilla sweetness) - but I don't want to be without it during this time of month. I very much like the fact that the effect is quiet and subtle, actually.

Woo, this is soooooo pretty. I'm having a hard time describing this scent - it reminds me of a good unisex cologne, but also of incense smoke (the nice kind); it smells like being lost in a smoky daydream, and it smells like the kind of mystery you never solve. It is, in short, drop-dead stunning...in a swirly foggy drug-addled sort of way. And that is all.

I couldn't tell you why, but this reminds me rather strongly of Monster Bait: Underpants. Maybe it's the vanilla and sandalwood, I dunno, but it is a very good reminder. I'm so happy that I love the Mouse's Story, for personal reasons entirely unrelated to the oil itself. Not that the oil itself is anything to sneeze at - it is, in a word, gorgeous. The amber goes just a bit powdery on me, but not in a bad way (which is saying something, as I generally hate powder) - it's just enough to fool my brain into thinking that there is something fuzzy and soft here, and several times I caught myself actually petting my wrist on reflex. The vanilla is sweet and soft; the amber is touchable and warm; the sweetpea and sandalwood respectively soften and ground it. So it smells fuzzy, like a mouse; and if it is a story, it is a long, rambling story by a small girl with enormous sad eyes who is convinced her world is ending because her blanket is in the washing machine. In other words, not terribly sad at all, but very adorable and cuddly in the extreme. I am a fan.

After I'd ordered the Frumious Bandersnatch (shun the beast!), I figured out that plum doesn't like me. Any 'dark' or 'red' fruit in general, in fact, tends to dry down into a thick, almost fermented smell that strongly reminds me of my mother, who I in no way want to emulate. So I wasn't expecting much from the Bandersnatch. Alas, every time I think I have managed to pare down my wishlist a bit, I discover that a problem note can work in the right circumstances. The plum was gorgeous; I think the chrysanthemum and the fading remnants of carnation kept it from doing its usual overripe-headtrip tango. But before it got to the sweetly soft and plummy stage, there was Carnation. Fear the wrath of Carnation, for it is terrible. I have a feeling that the carnation is what makes the Bandersnatch frumious; were it not for that floral note, the monster would purr and roll on its belly for a good scratch. Unfortunately, carnation goes to bloody town, prancing its spicy-spiky self all over my arm in a nose-burny screaming dance. I kept sniffing for that fuzzy Bandersnatch I knew was there, but the carnation kept jumping in the way, yelling rather loudly that it was FRUMIOUS, dammit, PAY ATTENTION, and then stabbing me in the nose and attempting to burn out all the sensory receptors therein. So...the drydown was nice, yes, but not really worth the wait. I'm sorry, dear Bandersnatch; I know you're really a pussycat at heart, but you've got to get over that attitude problem. I can't wait for your naptime just to cuddle you.

I get...a lot of butter. Very strong, savory butter. There's fruit in there too, and red fruit tends to kind of ferment on my skin - drowning it in butter does not help matters. Don't get me wrong - I like butter, and I like fruits. This does not mean I like buttered fruit. I had to wash Drink Me off before too long, because much as I wanted to like it, it was very strong and kind of grossed me out.

I tried Alice fully prepared to like her. I wanted to like her. The description is so lovely. And I had to try her quick, because she was one of half a dozen imps in my most recent order whose caps just snapped on me. But my skin turns sweet Alice into aged baby oil - thick and cloying and not at all what I want to smell like. Poor Alice. I'd swap you, but your head is broken.

God, this smells like sex. And I've gotten most of the regular BPAL oils that are supposed to smell like sex; almost all of them made me incredibly uncomfortable. Not that they smelled bad, per se - it was just that they had a raw, straightforward quality that seemed very not-compatible with my personality. But LaFlamme is everything I wanted a sex-scent to be. It's warm and orangey and enticing, compelling, bright red. And that's just from a purely olfactory standpoint. From a functional standpoint, this blend is amazing. I did a small ritual, anointing a candle and using the wax (it was a very, very drippy candle) to make a charm, which I also anointed. Needless to say, oil got everywhere and I was, in my opinion, very smelly indeed. No less than fifteen minutes after I finished wrapping my charm, I got a call from the boy in question, who decided that while he wasn't doing anything but watching TV, he could just as easily do that at my house, and would it be all right if he came over? I was surprised and impressed. One thing I found odd was that even though he was very sweet and affectionate (which is what I was hoping for) when I apologized for how very strong I smelled (every time I turned my head I smelled LaFlamme, and I could taste it at the back of my throat) he didn't know what I was talking about. He couldn't smell anything, he said as he kissed me. In any case, I think it smells dead sexy. And I'm almost tempted to track down another bottle, even though this one is still full into the neck, out of sheer paranoia that I might someday run out.

I'm discovering that I shouldn't even bother with 'forum favorites' like Dorian, O and Snake Oil, because my skin is determined that I shall never, ever be one of the cool kids. Snake Charmer is no exception. I mean, Snake Charmer sounded absolutely gorgeous in the description, and I was all set to order it even before I knew that everyone else was nuts for it. I got my bottle and it was the first thing I tried...and also the first thing I ever swapped away, less than three days after getting it. It hit my skin, and I immediately smelled like an unwashed hippie walking past the cheap incense pagoda in my local mall. All I got was body odor (and not the good kind!), heavy generic incense, and a hint of overripe plums. I tried it again, with similar results, keeping it on for a long time for both experiments - even though I make it a rule that anything where I find myself being very careful to hold my wrist away from my face and breathe through my mouth is an automatic swap. After a few hours, it mellows out to a nice vanilla-spice...but those hours of holding my breath and wincing at my own perfume aren't worth it. Off to swaps she went, to someone who will love the SnakeLady better, and I got myself something I like much more.

I ordered an imp of this back in March, and just now got around to trying it - 'seven dry woods' sounded lovely, but the reviews said cinnamon, and cinnamon gives me welts, and...And then I opened the imp and got a completely surprising blast of WINTERGREEN. And it was a very specific wintergreen - a little syrupy and very sweet, like those white breath-saver candies with green crystals in them. The imp sat untried on my shelf for almost two months, because the idea of putting that much mint on my skin grossed me out just a little. I love mints in my mouth, but I am a firm believer that they have no place in my perfumes. Yesterday, however, I was feelin' brave (and also planning on a shower in half an hour ) and put a tiny swipe of Hamadryad on my hand. Almost immediately, the wintergreen backed off, becoming a light, sweetly sharp waft that I loved smelling. It was like the candies lost the white 'candy' part and I was just smelling the crystals, and I was surprised by how much I liked it. But then it got better. The mint burned off completely after about fifteen to twenty minutes, and I was left with a gorgeous, subtle blend of woods and sweet, unassuming florals. I love woods, but normally they're more...robust, somehow, than Hamadryad is. In this, they are soft, very soft, like an oil rather than a wood. And the florals are soft and pale and sweet, truly like a breeze rather than a bouquet. All in all, the drydown is cottony-soft, subtly sweet, and simply lovely and unusual. After my shower, I put on more. And you can bet I'm ordering a bottle of this.