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.)

I'm a huge fan of both sandalwood and myrrh/oppoponax, so I was eager to try this out to see whether the warm woodsiness of those two would take centre stage on me ahead of the vetiver and plum. In the bottle, the vetiver leapt out almost immediately, but it disappeared almost instantly once I applied it to my skin, leaving just the tiniest hint of sharpness to balance the plum. Once it dried down, the plum edged forward a bit, tempered by the sandalwood and oppoponax. Not sweet, mind you... just warm and regal. It's a dry warmth, though: although this is the same plum note as in Tarantula Fascinator, it doesn't have the gooey wetness in this scent that it did when paired with chocolate. This is a mature, queenly perfume that I can picture on someone like Catherine Di Medici—a powerful older woman who can silence a court with a single glance, and has no patience for cloying sweetness or girlish florals.

This is another scent that smells incredible on my husband, but gets a bit acrid and harsh on me. He gets the woodsy, campfire smokiness, whereas I get charcoal briquettes and ash. That said, something magical happens when I layer it with a sweeter scent like Velvet or The Second of Three Spirits: it cuts the sweetness and deepens the scent to something a bit darker, which I love.

Grave moss and bone-white sandalwood, with vetiver, gunpowder, artillery shrapnel, and blood. This is a powerful, rich, fierce scent that smells absolutely incredible... on my husband. He managed to get his hands on a bottle, and after snuffling it on him a few times, I asked if I could try it out. Well. It's rather startling how different a scent can be when worn by two different people. Whereas he gets all the vetiver, shrapnel, and smoky notes, my skin amps the sandalwood and moss... so it turns all soft and foresty on me. Damn, damn, damn.

Well, this is just ridiculously gorgeous. Beth has the rare ability to create a complete story in a scent, and wearing Mr. Fezziwig's Ball does exactly that. Rich and deep, it smells just like the interior of a warm, welcoming English pub that has a blazing fire in the hearth, candles glowing on burnished tables, soft leather seats, and a plethora of pastries to eat. There's a savoury/sweet note that really does evoke "mince pie", but it's not cloying, and I wouldn't call the perfume foodie per se, because there's a tiny evergreen note around the edges that cuts through anything sugary. It's a stunning scent that's just perfect for Yuletide.

I'd have to agree with other posters who called this scent "Bibliophile Heaven". To me, it's a gorgeous, dry, papery scent that brings to mind a visit to an antique book shop on a crisp November day; the kind that has old leather chairs that are perfect for curling up in.

I normally don't do "foodie" scents well, but after the great success I had with Dumb Cake, I've been more open to them. My husband surprised me with a half-bottle of this, and if ever there were a scent that told a full, lush story, it would be The Second of Three Spirits. A few years ago, we attended the Victorian Christmas celebration at Black Creek Pioneer Village in Toronto... and that entire experience has been captured in this perfume. It's quite sweet in the bottle (I think I picked up the plums and chestnuts?) but on my skin, the main notes are warm pastry, pomanders (oranges stuffed with cloves), and a gentle hint of evergreen boughs around the edges. The pioneer village rooms that were decked out in their Christmas finery smelled just like this, with freshly baked pies cooling beneath garlands of pine and holly, chestnuts roasting on the fire nearby, and a wassail punch bowl full of spiced fruit. It's a truly exquisite scent.

If Lady Amalthea is my winter musk, then The King's Daughter is her summery cousin. In the bottle, and wet on skin, the notes that jump out the most are watermelon and sweet pea, though I get more of the melon's rind than the fruit itself. After a very short time, the melon and sweet pea take a step back so the elemi and lilac can take centre stage, with the sandalwood and oakmoss grounding the higher-pitched notes beautifully. An hour later, it's all pale wood, sandalwood, and oakmoss, with just the tiniest hint of lilac and melon rind. As others have mentioned, it starts off very "young" and sweet, but dries down to a very regal scent. I'd love to wear this to a spring or summer wedding, where I could swathe myself in silk and chiffon and just float around the place like an elder faerie.

If Velvet and Dumb Cake had a love child and seasoned it with a sprinkling of plum, this would be it. Just exquisite. On me, it starts off with a strong, peppery cocoa, and then settles into hazelnut and sandalwood with cocoa, and just a whisper of the plum in the background. I end up smelling like Nutella that's been scooped up with a spoon that had a bit of plum jam on it beforehand. Not overly sweet, but warm and decadent.

Budding summer squashes and pole beans, tomato leaves, upturned earth, May's wildflowers, and sun-warmed herbs. I hadn't expected to love this scent as much as I do. I normally gravitate towards woodsy and cooler scents, but my husband surprised me with a bottle of this and suggested that I try it for summertime... and I just fell in love. Wet, it's juicy and damp with rain-soaked soil, tomato leaves, and what might be courgette/summer squash. As it dries, I get snapped bean pods and peppery greens, followed by a warm floral note - possibly sweet pea or squash blossoms? All in all, it smells like a glorious, green vegetable garden kissed by midsummer sunshine. Just breathtakingly light and beautiful.

Every time I think I've found the perfect scent for my chemistry, I come across something new that absolutely blows me away. The Memory of Primal Secrets is rich and gorgeous beyond measure. Dark and aquatic, with a strong undercurrent of wood notes and incense, it makes me think of an ancient, battered boat slipping through black water in the middle of the night. As another poster mentioned above, there is something like hazelnut in the opening notes, but then it darkens to rippling saltwater waves and creaking timber. Breathtakingly beautiful, and now in my top 5.