abberlaine

Have any of you guys had the pleasure of trying Dulce de Leche (a milk candy)? ... because Antique Lace's got a thick, creamy spoonful of it dolloped into its magic. It's got a rich, smooth vanilla cream; mild honey dusting powder; melted white chocolate; a little bit of talcum powder towards the drydown, and a touch of unscented deodorant cream (the only minus in the set). Someone on the LiveJournal community alchemylab compared it to Hanae Mori's ButterflyPerfume -- one of my favorites -- and I can tell you that the two are indeed similar in tone. I layered it with LUSH's Skinny Dip, and my grandmother made a kissy sound and went, "Each one is better than the other." This marks the third BPAL scent that my mother had something very nice to say about (the other two being Snow White and Scherezade). Thumbs up!

Hey! Could anyone name some blends that contain Egyptian Amber? I sniffed an imp of it at a Meet n' Sniff today, and sweet baby Jesus, it's sublime.

I'm pretty sure. It's the same to Canada and the States, so I assume it'd also be the same to Europe. :-)

*peeks in* My mom, who's of Arabic and Israeli descent, pronounces Scherezade as "Shahch (ah - as in, a the satisfied, high-pitched cry; ch - it's kind of like a cross between the sound you make when preparing a spit and a dry "h") + reh (soft, back of throat "r" and "eh" as in "Eh. Whatever.") + z-ah-rd (again, a soft "r") + ha."

Oh my lord. This is fan-fucking-god-forsaken gorgeous on me. I'm getting a strong hit of patchouli, but it's not of the dirty/hippie variety (like the near-SN I got sticking my nose into my bottle of Luperci) -- this patchouli's thick without being heavy, a little sweet, and terribly exotic. There's sensuous red musk, and covert spices -- they're there, but they're flavoring the brew rather than being dusted on top. Oh, I want to bathe with LUSH's Middle Earth Turns To Rock and slather this stuff on top. I'm going to wear this to my uncle's house in Jerusalem, where the walls are carved out of limestone and adorned with Morrocan carpets. I'm going to wear this with a tank top and my hair wildly curly (hint: this isn't going to match up well with a Chanel suit), when I go out for coffee spiked with cardamom and smoke dried fruit from a nargila. This would be awesome in my hair. A deliciously thick scent for exotic travels.

I can vouch for Luperci and Budding Moon. The Ghost would work, too.

Dublin starts out the perfect scent to wear on a rainy day. Within the minute, however, it morphs into sharp, bitter weeds. It gradually mists out and the white rose starts to rise, but then it falls straight back into weed territory and stays there right through until the end. It's not a bad scent, but it's not what I expected. I'm gonna try it on a piece of cotton and see how it fares. If it gives a repeat performance, it's off to the sales/swaps.

This is something you'd find in a witches' herb garden. Right away, I smell the roots, spindly and twisted and emitting a bittersweet aroma. As it dries, the flower scents rise to the surface and the scent turns soft, smooth and sweet while remaining garden-y. There's something rose-like, but I wouldn't peg it as a rose. It's a lukewarm scent, soft but with a fair bit going on. I'd turn this into a sheet and clothing spray or wear it gardening or at an outdoor party. ETA: Minus the garden-y touch, this bears some ressemblance to Prada's fragrance. Thumbs up!

Wet, Polyhymnia is bright lemon balm (as opposed to fresh, real lemon) with an accent of honeysuckle. Wake up, sunshine! It's a working blend rather than something I'd go around wearing as a perfume. As it dries, the herbs come out and the lemon balm fades to something fabric-soft, sunny, and aural (is that the correct word?). I can pick out the rosemary and the sandalwood, soft and smooth. The lemon retains just enough of its initial tang to keep your eyes open. Thumbs up!

That's a first. Iris? There's iris in here? On my skin, Florence is all thick but muted berries, dry spices and raw amber. The berries here are on their way to drying up (as opposed to, oh, say, the berry juice that I got out of Bordello) and there's something... burnt in the spices. Is that clay dust? To the average Joe, Florence smells like berries and a sculptor's workshop. It's not bad as a "close your eyes and be transported" kinda scent, but it's not my kinda thing to wear as a perfume.

Burial, anyone? They've both got the turpentine and the bitter... well, the mental image is phlox-like flowers growing out of and wilting from the flakes of fungus mushrooms. Loup Garou's also got the nostril-chilling sensation of eucalyptus, and there are moments where I can smell the evergreen trees that grow wild in Israel (this is the best of it). There's a hint of a dry wood in here, too. To the average Joe, it'd smell like something between a cool gel marketed to men and... the not-so nice scent of Burial. If it stuck to evergreens and eucalyptus-tingle, I might've pointed it out to someone else. Either way, it's not my kinda man scent.

Wow! This smells really nice! Now this -- out of all the BPALs I've tried so far, this is the one I'd see the store-brand perfume fans really enjoying ("it's green, young, and fresh"). On me, this guy's a morpher. I get sweet, fresh lemony coolness that stays out of cleaner territory; a green garden (whoops, it's mostly lily); a curl of ivy, and there's the osmanthus from Night's Pavilion! Oh, you're so much nicer without the white musk. Sometimes, I get a cool scent, like splashing my face with cold water; other times, it's heavier and more substantial lily and grass scent*. I can see how some people get green apple out of it. It's a springtime scent, but there are stages where it's very wispy and does indeed bring to mind a gleefully shrieking ghost. Thumbs up! *That's something that hasn't been working out for me, actually. A lot of BPAL scents tend to... sit there on my arm, thick and heavy. I prefer my scents lighter and airier.

God. Gluttony's, like -- waffles covered in hazelnut butter with globs of toffee and caramel and vanilla cream and chocolate syrup, the load of it chucked into deep fryer and pulled out just as it's starting to burn, and slathered with butter just before it's served. It's a fast food chef working in an upscale restaurant. Jabba the Hutt would be all over this. The half-burnt scent I could do without, but at least the sweetness isn't cloying (more than I could say for Dana O'Shee).

Hey! Does anyone happen to know what the shipping rates are to Jerusalem, Israel? (For one to three bottles, say.) EDIT: For everyone's reference -- the lab says $11.

Few! Am I ever glad that my bottle of Night's Pavilion is flying off this morning. It starts out lovely and subdued: tightly packed white blooms and the faintest whisper of white musk. As it dries, however, the musk breaks the dam and half-drowns the other notes. It winds up smelling like white musk coupled with fruity candy: in this case, not the nicest combination. EDIT: This blend has some lovely frankincense in it, though. I'll give it that. Faint wisps of dry frankincense.

In the imp and on wet, I get benzaldehyde poured over a smidge of my breakfast porridge. Dry, Dana O'Shee does remind me of Snow White, but it's reminiscent of that strong, blanketing, sugar-sweet opening stage that very nearly had me heading to the sink. It smells a lot like sticking your nose into a container of sugary milk bath powder. There's almond milk and oatmeal in there, sure, but they're smothered under that fakely sweet blanket.

Khajuraho smells of watery honey, date palm (wet, sweet, and coupled with the olfactory equivalent of that spurting sensation at the back of your mouth when you're nibbling on anise seeds), incense, and the Indian equivalent of potpourri. It's smells very natural and decidedly un-Western. On me, it's not as nice as some people have claimed it to be, but it is sunny, warm and comforting. It brings to mind acres of weed-like wildflowers growing in a hot climate.

Why, I'm glad you asked! I'm wearing the pride of my underwear drawer, a bra by a company called Huit, and a pair of cheap white undies with a sparkly eskimo on the front. Of course, I dream of owning a fine lingerie collection that rivals the size of my BPAL stash.

What's there to say that hasn't been said? De Sade smells deceptively of leather. Cold, hard leather complete with that sour edge; leather that's been used and dirtied. It's a leather glove wrapped over your mouth with a scent that's present enough to make you choke. (Oh, god. I just made myself blush.) There's nothing warm and comforting about it. De Sade is a sharp and merciless fetish.

Heavy, somewhat sharp white musk over deodorant flowers. A dab rubbed between both wrists will last you a good chunk of the day. It's a peaceful scent, yes, and it's tangible enough that it gives you something to hold on to -- a big, white handle carved from a solid balm -- but it's simply too strong and hardly compelling enough to get at my feelings.

I'm half-certain that Bordello's got some sort of a leather note in it -- couch leather, to be precise. I'd describe it as (too) sweet plum juice doing the tango with a creamy, thick, almost chocolate-y amaretto. The wine smoothes the scent out and brings it a little closer to sophisticated territory, and the whole of it is spilled over a base of leather. To the average Joe, I imagine it smells way, way too much like a berry juice stain on a leather couch.

The scent is most lovely in its opening stages, when it takes on the smell of plain cacao beans ground to a paste and blended with a small amount of sweet rum. There's a very authentic South American feel to it. The cocoa in Centzon Totochin is of the powdered and unsweetened variety. Sadly, it falls apart without much grace: first, it loses its sweetness and its soft richness, and then, it dries down to smell like it's been sitting out in the sun all day. There's a brief stage where it smells like a buttery hazelnut chocolate (here, it blends really nicely with the rum and the fruitiness of the wine), but then it dips back below the blood and finishes syrupy. The "blood" is thick, sweet and alive. Sometimes, it gets a little too strong and metallic and evokes memories of nosebleed nausea. In a snapshot, it smells like I'm trying to sniff chocolate paste with a splash of booze through a nosebleed. It's veritably interesting all the way through, at least, and I'd have kept it around if it had retained the feel of the opening stages all the way through.

I've never tried Aveda MEN, but I can tell you that the sleep forumla Nanshe smells like something out of an Aveda shop.

Deep mahogany and rich, velvety woods lacquered with sweet, black-red cherries and currant. Gah! I was glad to see this one gone. I got The Red Queen in a swap and she yucked up the whole envelope with her smell of sticky, gooey, half-dried cough syrup. On the skin, she's more of the same, kick strong and terrifying. It's like tripping into a vat of that syrup that's used in Dr. Pepper while still clutching the wooden paddle used to mix it. Never again!

Wet, it smells just like a compote of sweet apricot. Delicious! Within moments, the cloves (ground to a powder) start to waft out and gradually rise to share the stage with the apricot. I believe that there's a little bit of tea in here, too. It's sweet without being girlish and very, very simple. I picture it going spiffy with a Betsey Johnson dress and a pot of tea. It's nice and I'd wear it again, but on the whole, it's not my speed.