abberlaine

I'm testing out March Hare as I type this, and that's sweet apricot compote dusted with enough ground cloves to tickle my nose. I picture it going well with a Betsey Johnson dress. If you can find the thread that's got snippets of BPAL in the media, there's this one article that mentioned an oil that smells just like clove cigarettes.

At best, Ave Maria Gratia Plena convinced me that men can and should wear florals. It was all there, well-blended but with dimension -- beautiful white blooms; long curls of lemon peel; a sprig of sage; warm, sweet rosewood and covert musks to hold the blend together. This is the scent of a man who's beautiful: a muscular, mouthy Adonis? The other two times I tried it, though, I got... artificial jasmine and lemon all the way through. It dried down to a ho-hum red sandalwood mixed with a little musk.

Ladies and gentlemen, this blend is perfect for combing through your hair. Child angels don't have it this good. In the bottle, it smells of light herbs and lots of sudsy soap. On the skin, however, it smells very, very faintly of baby's skin, of creamy herbs and of having washed with orris and iris soap (the florals are there, but they're in a supporting role -- they're not there to stand up and look pretty -- and they blend in well). As the oil dries, there comes out a hint of something else that makes the scent: I can't quite put my finger on it, but it reminds me of of tea, of hair that's been heated by the sun, and of the color brown -- it's hot, but it's not smoking or scorched. It's comforting and completely wearable. What's there to say? Morella is completely unobtrusive, non-offensive and a total skin scent: again, she's very, very faint. She's is a natural beauty, no question about it. Come back to GC, Morella! I want to make body products out of you!

O's about a half-step up from the edible honey powder you'd buy at a sex store. (I dare you to layer her with Kama Sutra's honey dust, actually.) On the skin, she's a straight-up concoction of honey, amber, and a little bit of vanilla that's dead heavy and overwhelmingly saccharine. A quick swipe'll take care of both your wrists. She's nicer than not, but way too eager to throw herself at anyone who'll take her.

Somnus is a heavy bouquet of lavender and jasmine. Unfortunately, it dries down to strong lavender soap and gives me a mild headache -- a headache of the "I haven't slept all night and my brain's long past dead" variety, as a matter in fact. Rather than gently coaxing me into a state of rest, Somnus grabs me by the nose and attempts to drag me straight into REM sleep. He doesn't care for making slumber a slow, pleasurable ritual: this guy's focused on efficiency and the end result. I'd venture to say that this is too potent to work well on me. I didn't enjoy Somnus as much as I did the other sleep blends I've tried, both in terms of the scent and the physical reaction. It doesn't not work, however, and I do wake up feeling extremely well-rested.

At first sniff, I get a heavy concentrate of coconut syrup, bordering on unpleasant. There's something more, though -- an undeniably winter-ish feel -- oh, I think of tightly-packed beds of coconut snow matted down on the ivy beds and on the pine branches. (Boo! I lied! ... compared to the sickening cloy of the coconut in the first half hour, the oil in the bottle smells positively green and sappy, like ivy that's been trampled upon. I can attest that Snow White will drag you over the learning curve with full force.) On, I'm hit by a full blast of syrupy coconut. Coconut, coconut, cocon- a very green, alcohol-fresh note of ivy tightens around my wrists and then snaps away before I can react. With crowing laughter, Snow White takes me by the arm and swings me into a bank of heavily candied dusting powder. I am disoriented; occasionally, I think I can smell a hint of whipped coconut cream -- lighter and airier, and without the syrupy edge -- but then I'm overtaken by the saccharine dusting powder, artificial and removed and getting cloying to the point of making me sick. I think I'm going to erupt into a frenzy of thrashing and squirming. Then it occurs to me: I've worn the entire bank down to a heavy powdering. Some time later, the last of the powder falls away and leaves a new, unmistakable scent (just like that!): a juicy green apple is hanging right over me. I take in its aroma with one long breath, but then she returns and tickles my nose with her wretched puff and laughs as I strain to reach around her. She bites from the apple and teases me, and I can can barely detect her lily perfume in the faint breeze. She leaves me to hang for a few minutes and then returns with a vanilla-and-honey-dipped apple, which she dangles in front of me but pulls away every time that I reach for a second bite. Then she leaves again, seemingly for good this time, and I've nothing to smell but a faint trace of the coconut sugar. ... and then it hits me, an absolutely divine scent. This is better than apple! There's a faint apple skin scent, yes, but there's also apple basted with nectar and vanilla spun right around the throw, lilies at certain angles, and... oh god, the most glorious coconut caramel dust -- it smells like the rainbow! -- that comes out to play for a single sniff every minute or so. ... and what's that? Is that ivy? I reach in a bit closer -- I think it's pulling awa-- COCONUT SUGAR AVALANCHE! Somewhere from above, Snow White blows a breath of apple and toasted coconut and leaves me to flounder. That wench! I tell you, I'm with the Peacock Queen on this one. Three hours later, the scent continues to morph between coconut sugar, barely-there apple, and spun caramel.

In The Bottle (wafting and sticking my nose right in): The scent in the bottle always starts with a prominent but lightly sweetened patchouli and sometimes works its way through dirt-laden honey and juniper, sometimes finishes with a quick sweep of balsam, and sometimes leaves behind a tickle of soap. On Wet & Drying: Immediately, the patchouli takes a back seat to something dry, warm, earthy, amber-laden, red-wooden and bordering on ambrosial. Within the span of a minute, the juniper and mosses rise and fall. A wet, red, shuddering drop of nectar quickly ripens into familiar beeswax before condensing back down into an very nearly cloying note of... it's like that first drop fell into a puddle of forest water and the tree roots and moss beneath are soaked to the point of rotting in it. Over the next few minutes, the honey-water takes over and grows more dank, especially in the aftertaste (after-smell?). It's not especially pleasant, but it's not altogether unpleasant, either. The patchouli is contained within the throw and is soon joined by mosses and crushed herbs, dark and lively without being wet. A ghost of the opening notes weaves in and out of the scent. This is much more pleasant. Slowly but surely, however, the honey-water rains here too. Drying to Dry: A very gentle scent that smells like it's coming off the exposed skin of a cleaned animal -- wild, but asleep. At some moments, it smells like he's comfortably nestled in the other components of the scent, and others yet, like he's been drinking the honey-water and it's dribbling down his chin. Again, all of this is very faint. I tried this again immediately after taking a long bath. This time, the honey note rose and fell altogether within the span of a few minutes, leaving behind a faint dusting of dry herbs and balsam over an even softer skin scent. The scent left on my toothpick, by the way, is absolutely delicious. This is dry earth, musk, patchouli, and amber packed into a sweet, rich incense.

Hey, guys! Might I trouble you for a recommendation? I've got a dorky little brother who's seventeen going on eighteen. He's on the skinnier and shorter side; favours t-shirts from ThinkGeek, pullovers, and Abercrombie knock-offs (over, say, thuggish bling, slick emo wear, or otherwise flamboyant clubbing gear); hangs out on cellphone forums and eBay in his spare time, and works the front desk of a local hotel. He's smart without being obsessively nerdy, polite without being pretentious, and popular without being superficial. He still throws the occasional temper tantrum at home, but he's not a bad kid in the least. I'm looking to pick up some oils for him, preferably something he can wear to work. Any suggestions?

I'm cranky, sweaty, dry-mouthed, bloated, aching, and seriously considering getting my tailbone removed. Hit me.

Hmmm I'd assume it's 5, because if you got 4 bottles and a six-set of imps it would be 5. I'd email the lab and see if they'd let the 2 imps sneak in under 4 items... Done! That's what I'm hoping for. *crosses fingers* I've got another question -- "In order to pay by credit card, you must order online through our web site. No order will be shipped until the money has cleared successfully." I was hoping to pay using my credit card via PayPal. (That is to say, my PayPal account doesn't actually contain any money. The way I understand it, they've got my credit card information stored there and I can use it to transfer money to someone else with a PayPal account.) Does anyone know if that'll be a problem?

I'm ordering four 5 ml bottles and two imps to Canada. Does that count as four items, or five...?