abberlaine

Have I not posted here before? If you like Hanae Mori Butterfly, Antique Lace should be right up your alley. It's a dead ringer for the strawberries-and-cream vanilla base.

I took some photos of bottles and imps that I have for a sales post, and I thought to post them here, too...

This is first and only bottle of TAL oil. I am planning on buying Anthelion some day, but until then, I rely on White Light to clear my mind and bring me back down to Earth. It smells like fresh sheets out of the dryer, and just the tiniest bit sour. I think weakly of hay and lemons, and strongly of a fuzzy, lazy, yellow-golden light. It's a strong smell. When I smell White Light, it brings me back down to Earth. I feel all of my worrisome thoughts become muted, and my life feels like it's more in perspective. I recently took my bottle of White Light to a four and a half hour exam with me, and every time I felt myself starting to tip into a panic attack, I'd remove the lid and put the bottle under my nose, take a deep breath, and look out the window at the snow outside. I'd remember, "It's just an exam. I want to do well on it, and I'll try my best while I'm here writing it, but if I don't get a good mark, it'll be okay." Ordinarily, I'll use it before bed, putting a minute amount on my fingers and running them over my approximate chakra points. That alone makes me feel a lot better. If I take a little more time out and take deep breaths and chants at each point, I'll feel even more relaxed. White Light is very special to me. Thank you, Beth.

Question: Is it okay to ship alcohol-based perfumes in a spray botle from the US to Canada?

Smells like Luperci's mud splashed with robust cowboy cologne. Totally not what I was expecting. Okay, but not my thing.

Oh, wow! My skin smells like I just washed with Neutro Roberts's Miele e Latte soap -- I smell artificial-but-all-the-better-for-it honey and vanilla. The lemon peel is easy to pick out, too. (You'd think that was the honey going bad on me, but no -- the honey presents itself as a separate element, soft and dulce de leche-gooey.) Then there's the florals. They don't "pop," but they're not bad at all. For the first little while, the scent is warm, fuzzy, and pleasantly distracting. As it dries, the florals take over a little more than I'd like them too, but it's still a nice scent. I'd wear it again!

Night of the Living Laudanum. Indicolite says it smells like burnt metal -- like someone soddering soldering, SOLDERING! (oh, sod it) in an opium den. I say it smells like smoked salmon left out on the canape tray. ... and band-aids, lots of band-aids. "Medicinal" is a charitable review. I say: YUCK!

On my skin, Midway's got a very strong "strawberry joss sticks" note -- very similar to the strawberry in Pink Phoenix, actually. There's a vanilla-like sweetness to the scent. It's very thick, very heavy. I think of bubble gum. Then, on some days, it smells like... carnival fart. Like the funnel cake, the caramel apple, the cotton candy, the salt water taffy and the sugar tart merged together to form a giant candy monster, and farted out a very, very sweet scent. Carnival fart.

Snake Oil. ... it's very low-laying, very musky, very comfortable on the skin. It's a non-traditional scent that truly nails the Lab's style, and if I were to cut back on my BPAL, this is the blend that I'd keep on ordering. I'd describe it as... that ultra-sexy brown sugar and vanilla scent, dragged through and smudged by patchouli smoke and spiced with a prickle of sassafras. There's a layer of something dry and dusty brushed over the top -- the amber, perhaps? I'm not a fan of that bit. It's "hippy," yes, but it's the scent of a badass boots-wearing, debauchery-reveling, intelligent and articulate, eats-the-girls-on-America's-Next-Top-Model-for-Breakfast hippy. I read elsewhere on the forum that a Capitol Records high-up buys Snake Oil by the 50 ml bottle, and I wasn't surprised. The scent totally fits that image. What else, what else? I agree with what another reviewer wrote: "Snake Oil has been recommended as a substitute for Snake Charmer since Snake Charmer was a Limited Edition. Any similarity I'm noting is very faint." I tend to layer it over Antique Lace.

Délicieux! Out of the three Monster Baits, this is the only one that worked on me. Whereas Gluttony brought to mind shovelling dessert into my mouth by the fistful, Underpants is fashionably indulgent. The scent has a definite "toasted" feel to it, bringing to mind scorched caramel and pralines, and perhaps crème brûlée. There's a touch of vanilla ice cream in here, though I don't smell vanilla in the sense of Antique Lace or Morocco's creamy white variety, which I expected. I'm not picking up the saffron or the sandalwood, either. When I smell this, I think of wearing silk purple panties and fun, heavy "status" jewelry -- Hello Kitty diamond pendants and "If found, return to Tiffany's" necklaces.

For the first couple of hours, the cassia dominates. Had I not been told to keep a nostril out for the other notes, it's the only thing that I'd be smelling. After a while, it smells like snickerdoodles -- yes! -- prepared with quality ingredients, nearly burnt, and left out to sit in the display window all morning long. I think it'd smell pleasant in an oil burner in the kitchen. On the extreme drydown, Underbed smells vaguely of vanilla sugar (the angel cake?). It's nice, but is it nice enough to keep around?

Bourbon blackberry buttercream? Bad body odor is more like it. It's uncanny: even in the bottle, I can smell the stale sweat that pervaded my high school gym t-shirt. ("Closet Monster" is right.) For eight solid hours, my hands smelled like they hadn't been washed in months. Alas, Black Annis is a sweeter scent.

I procured an imp of St. Germain for my brother's birthday, and how I wish he'd wear it more. (He's prejuidced against it because it's not brand-name. Alas.) The reviews are true: It's clean and comforting like a freshly-washed boy in an attractive sweater. Our Renaissance man is smart, relaxed, knows what he likes (letting himself be drawn to his interests of the moment, perhaps), and has his shit together. He likes to take care of himself. There's a sandalwood-smoothness to the scent that makes me think of wheat-coloured, raw leather shoes. The scent has a freshly-washed feel to it, again -- something to do with the mosses, I think. It smells like he's been soaked with with one of those conifer, moss, and aloe soaps -- then dried in the amber warmth. Every once in a while, the carnation (which isn't spicy, by the way) or the lavender will press out a bit, giving the scent a bit of an edge, but nothing bad. Most commercial colognes I've sniffed have this strong, musky, fresh-splash scent to them that tends to overpower the blend. St-Germain has that, but it's much, much fainter. Glorious.

Hey! I've never tried Vanilla Lust, but I can point you in the direction of some threads in the Recommendations forum that might be useful: Searching for Your Perfect Vanilla? If you like ____ BPAL, then you'll like... (I've posted the other way around, i.e., "What BPAL is similar to _____?" and had good luck with replies.)

Sampled from a friend's imp -- Anubis is ripe with Osun's honey -- lookit that! Fresh on, Anubis is exactly how I'd imagined it would smell. It smells like a generous spread of a thick, grey balm. The honey provides the main attraction. I believe there's a sweet, fruit-tinged amber in here -- Egyptian amber, perhaps? As it dries, the scent turns to dust. It's not a favorite, but I do like it a lot. Someone make a perfume balm out of this guy!

Sampled from a friend's imp -- Still in the imp, I can't smell the honey at all -- the oil is all oranges and roses. It takes a good quarter of an hour, as a matter in fact, for the honey to climb past the oranges and past the roses and assert its dominance. It's a perfume that could go with Botticelli's Venus -- honey blonde hair whipped all over; a shower of roses in full bloom. Don't get me wrong, though. Grace and beauty aren't my first choice of words to describe Jezebel. She's a little bit dirty, and very headstrong. Given the choice, I prefer O.

Or on another topic, what about for taking exams? TAL's Concentration is the obvious choice. :-) Bengal smells like a chai latté, if that's the sort of thing that comforts you.

A car diffuser? De Sade, of course! ;-) My favorite car smell is the smell of new leather seats. :-) Otherwise, I'd suggest something dry and woody -- Yggdrasil comes to mind.

Ah. Black Annis, the pest of my imp box. I thought of throwing it out (but the review points!), trying it out before a shower (what if it doesn't wash off?), and frimping it off (they'll never trade with me again). I thought of buying a Super Soaker, filling it with diluted Black Annis, and storing it out on the balcony for the next time a loud, drunken party passes under my window at four o'clock in the morning. Instead, I put it on. Black Annis... smells like anise running around, flailing its hands and trying to cover up the bad B.O. smell of the civet. It wasn't as bad as I'd expected -- no cat piss, no barf. Just an uncleanly geek that the room spray couldn't hide.

Fresh on the skin, Lurid brings to mind a low-lying, thick, lazy smoke curling around my ankles. I'd describe it as a sweet, musky resin, though no one note stands out above the rest. A few moments later, the separation begins. There's the lavender, sharp and loud. The ozones fly in and take over the scent, giving the impression of a strong-scented dryer sheet. I can still smell the resins down below, somewhat murky. It's like spillling ether on the ground below and watching it fog up and become more and more indistinct. I never do get the black currant, nor do I think of the scent as "shocking, horrific, fierce, savage, sensationalized, luminous." It's not bad at all. Not something that I'd wear as a perfume, likely, but not bad at all.

Bang. Plum. Dry smoke. Gardenia. Sugared pear? A wreath of acrid roses. Do I smell the scent of an alluring woman? No. The Elizabeth Báthory I'm getting is indeed brutal, savage, and a wild, crazy bitch. She would work her way up to grotesque murders, shutting peasants in the iron maiden or disfiguring her victims with a silver claw attached to a whip. The scent dries down to a smoky, sour plum and rose protected from persecution by the royal veil of flowers set above. It's too sour, too murky for me, and I believe it's ultimately destined for the swap pile.

Vechernyaya, to my nose, is a sex-charged hippy.

Vechernyaya worked killer sexy on me, actually. Maybe not "ninja geisha," but totally, Feminine Essence of Sawyer from Lost.

Yup. Kumiho pulled the "Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am" on me. In the span of a minute, two at most: a burst of sharp lemon, replaced by white tea and blooms (very, very nice), back to sharp lemon, expensive citrus and tea soap, and then fade. Kumiho's, like, a femine version of those lemon-based guy soaps. She's light, fresh, delicate, and good quality. If I turned her into a body spray, I bet you she'd have men fantasizing about watching me shower. I wish she had a little less lemon and a little more sweet white tea, though.

Fresh on, I get some sort of a whipped coconut drink, maybe with a little bit of lemon rind of a pinch of mint garnishing it. It's sweet like a confectionary, and whipped to thick, fluffy cloud proportions. It's very, very milky -- this is the aspect that makes me want to butter up my arms, pull up a hammock and a drink, and take pleasure in the feelings of comfort that arise. There's a vague hint of something sour, but it's not strong enough to knock the blend out of balance. Even as the scent settles into my skin, I can smell the shea butter, coconut water, and flakes of coconut meat being offered in turn. Sadly, five minutes later, Obatala turns to a slighty sour shea butter -- it reminds me of body butter that's been stored in the heat. Here and there, it switches to a coconut puff scent that's somewhat more sugary than I'd like it to be. The coconut note in here, by the way, isn't the toasted, caramel-tinged coconut that I get from Elegba or from Red Lantern. Obatala's coconut's is white, sugared, and has no intention of baking in the sun; it's more along the lines of Snow White's coconut. As such, Obatala's too sweet for me to feel sexy, or even refreshed in it. (Ever eaten candy on a hot day without washing it down? Know that sticky-sweet taste that stays in your throat? Obatala evokes that.) On the right person, I imagine that this'd make for a glorious comfort scent.