Nicnivin

Normally green florals work really well on me (The Lilac Wood, for example, is one of my all-time favourites), but with Amsterdam either the tulip or the peony goes really soapy and powdery on me. I do like the scent, so I'll add a drop or two to a scarf or dab a bit into my hair so I get the fresh, spring-like fragrance around me without actually having it go funky on my skin. It conjures up the most beautiful spring or early summer day, with crisp green grasses and fields of tulips in full bloom. In the depth of winter, it's also really nice to diffuse around the house or sprinkle on a pillow to remind me that there will be flowers again, once the snow finally goes away.

I can't wear this one because of the patchouli, but oh my gods, this is one of my five favourite scents for my husband to wear. On him, it's a gorgeous, feral, masculine mix of leather, musk, vetiver, and oakmoss, with just the tiniest wisp of tobacco to soften it in the background. If this is what yetis smell like in the wild, I don't blame them for hiding away: I'd probably jump one just because they smell so damned good. Honestly, if your guy is the outdoorsy type, or if you just prefer to wear more masculine, woodsy scents, try to get your hands on a bottle of this.

2010 version, purchased on the BPAL Sales FB page. My husband got a bottle of this for himself, and it brought back the most beautiful memories of my grandfather, Josef. He was a shoemaker by trade, and always smelled like a combination of crisp linen shirts, pipe smoke, and a combination of leather and wood from his workshop. Scent is so strongly tied to memory, and whenever we use a couple of drops in our aromatherapy diffuser, it's like my granddad is in the room with us. Just wonderful. It really is a lovely, masculine scent, though I can imagine that it might get a bit sweet on some people, depending on their chemistry.

Luxuriant amber, warm Egyptian musk, fierce saffron and soft myrrh, almond, cardamom and golden lotus. I got a free imp of this with my Yule order, and in the bottle, it smelled like absolute heaven: somewhere between marzipan and amaretto. On my skin, those notes disappeared almost instantly and were replaced with the strong amber that always goes rancid on me. I had really hoped that the myrrh, almond, lotus, and musk would overpower that amber note, but alas, my skin amps it like crazy. Adding this one to the gifting frimp pile, unfortunately.

Warm, fierce, and protective. I put this on one night after waking from truly horrendous nightmares, and it was like being wrapped in a cloak of invulnerability, if you'll permit a moment of abject geekery. I definitely smell dragon's blood resin and jasmine in it, but also some other warm, spicy notes that I can't pick out. This isn't a day-to-day scent for me, but is rather like a magical potion that's only pulled out in times of crisis, or when strength and courage are needed.

Effervescent, creamy rootbeer. It's lovely to sniff in the imp, but I can't wear it - it's going to my niece.

Indigo musk, wild plum, rose geranium, benzoin, night-blooming jasmine, and patchouli. I so wanted to love this. The description sounded so gloriously dark and rich, but between the patchouli, plum, and benzoin, I ended up smelling like a cat's litterbox.

I am SO happy that I gave this scent another chance. When I first received it, my first instinct was to recoil: as someone else mentioned above, in the bottle it smells like patchouli re-created from other scents, and since I loathe patchouli with a seething passion, I cringed and backed the hell away. I did try it a few weeks later, but the cedar went sour on me and I had to scrub it all off within just a few minutes. Well, it's been a few months now, and I decided to give it another chance despite the "huurrrblaarrghhh" reaction I have whenever I open the bottle... and I'm very, very happy that I did. I wouldn't have imagined that the scent could morph so much from the bottle to my skin, but it has. Wet, it's VERY heavy on the cedar, hence the negative knee-jerk reaction I had the first time I tried it... but that dissipates a few minutes later and is replaced by the soft, warm rose otto. The teak and oudh seem to cradle the rose and keep it from going too high-pitched floral on me, and after about 15-20 minutes, everything softens into a very elegant, mature, woodsy scent with just a hint of rose. This really is startlingly beautiful, and I'm SO happy that I decided against trading it away.

The Last Unicorn was my favourite film when I was a child, and I've fallen in love with most of the scents in this collection. The Last Unicorn goes on with a strong, sweet white chocolate note, but that fades quickly and the lilac and oakmoss step forward on me. Fortunately, I don't get too much of the coconut, except as a softening effect on the orris and violet, which can amp badly on me at times. Ultimately, it softens to a creamy, gentle floral that seems like a middle ground between The Lilac Wood and Lady Amalthea. It's really, really lovely, and perfect for spring evening wear.

Would it make sense if I described this scent as an autumnal forest cathedral? When it goes on wet, the dead leaf smell takes centre stage, but it steps back quickly and softens to a myrrh that I associate with the Catholic masses I attended as a child. To me, the scent is reverential and regal; vanilla doesn't show up on my skin at all, but instead the scent dries down to a soft, murmuring myrrh rustling through the dry leaves. It's beautiful, but definitely a "special occasion" scent rather than a day-to-day perfume.

Well, this is certainly an interesting scent, and one that's rather perfectly suited to a Faerie King. It's androgynous, both floral and citrusy, with that bergamot tang that I think Victorian dandies must have bathed in. I can picture very elfin, fae men (like the Rivendell archers) wearing this with panache, but it wouldn't suit my wood-chopping, bearded husband.

I love the scent of violets, but some hideous chemical catastrophe happens when it hits my skin, and I end up with a raging headache. This is a -gorgeous- perfume, and I agree with other posters who've said that it's definitely best suited to older women. Being a lady of middling years (cough), I'm technically old enough to wear it, but although wisteria and delphinium have been added to this blend, the violet still amps on me in the worst possible way. Sadness. It's a lovely blue violet scent, evocative of springtime and true majesty, but not for me. :\

Absolutely perfect. Up until now, my favourite BPAL perfume has been The Memory of Primal Secrets, which was a limited edition Yule scent from a couple of years ago... so I was absolutely blown away (and slightly shriek-ish) when I discovered that Walking the Prime Meridian has almost the exact same notes. It's a stunningly beautiful blend of oceanic and woodsy, balanced by light mist and greenery. For me, it evokes the memory of walking near Cardiff Bay in late October, with the sea air melding its salt and brine with damp oak leaves and moss underfoot. Just. Stunning.

As other have mentioned, this does remind me of the dark, musky incense that's so often found in pagan bookshops. I received this bottle as a gift when I was first trying out different BPAL scents to see which worked best on me, and unfortunately, I've had to pass it along to another. While I absolutely adore jasmine and rose geranium, any kind of patchouli is a death note with my skin chemistry. It's a beautiful, dark scent that alas, is absolutely not for me, much like Blacker than the Raven Wings of Midnight. Sadness.

Absolutely freaking gorgeous. The pepper does grant it a subtle kick, but the leaves and sandalwood together are just. pure. poetry. This is probably one of my favourite autumnal scents yet, and it smells incredible on my husband. (It's definitely more on the masculine side of unisex, so if I were to wear it, I might have to add a drop of Velvet to soften it a little bit.)