Syzygy

Okay. So. There was this failed relationship, and even though more than enough time had passed and it was very plain that never again would our paths cross, I just could not move past it. All else having failed, I got a bottle of Ouroboros. The ritual itself was a real patchwork affair, cobbled together from ideas I found on the forum and some real-life elements. First I wrote my ex a letter. As I wrote, I found myself ending each paragraph with the same sentence - "It is time to close the circle" - which made it into a kind of incantation. I sealed the letter in an envelope with my ex's name on it and put it aside until it was time to finish up. When the waning moon came, I chose one evening after I'd had a good yoga class during which I'd focused on the ritual and moving forward. When I got home I dressed a white candle with Ouroboros in two spirals: one going up, one going down. I also anointed the rim of a 3-footed copper bowl, then I opened the envelope and drew a circle on it with the oil. I wore some White Light to put myself in a good space. I read the letter aloud, concentrating on my ex as if he were listening, then burned it in the copper bowl. Rather than go out looking for a stream at 10 p.m., I washed the ashes down the sink. Then I scrubbed the hell out of my bathtub (to tire myself out and because it needed it), took a shower, went to bed and slept like a rock. The next morning I dropped in for another yoga class, using it to kind of put the final coat of shellac on the ritual. All that day, and for quite some time after, I couldn't really think about my ex. Every time I tried to, my thoughts would...bounce off. It was as though all that history had been sealed up and put away like a box of old letters or photos, and I couldn't open it up. That was several months ago, and I wanted to wait to see if the ritual had really worked. Looks like it did. That relationship is safely in the past now. I'm no longer haunted and depressed. I can open up the box now if I want, and look at those old memories without any pain. Been a long time gone, and now I finally feel alive, awake, happy and free. So, is Ouroboros effective? Holy cats, I should say so!

First of all, I love the name. It's got damn near everything: weird superhero names, action and adventure, sex. Throw in pirates and giant robots and it'd be a perfect storm of awesome. The scent begins as an all-out floral assault, but after a bit it does eventually settle down into a very pretty, light floral. As others have pointed out, there is a creaminess to it. It's quite soft and pleasant, but not really my style. My mother would probably love it, although I don't know how I could ever get the name past her.

After a long period of depression and self-isolation, the time came for me to get back into interacting with people. However, my skills felt rusty and a confidence boost was in order. Based on the reviews, Charisma sounded like a good choice. Charisma smells like spicy baby oil: nothing you'd wear as a perfume, but nice in its way. I applied a little to each chakra and felt my root chakra heat up, which is not an unusual effect when working with TALs (one sniff of White Light is usually enough to open my third eye). Then I put on some lively music and danced around my apartment for a while to ramp up the good vibes. When it comes to rituals I follow my gut, and this seemed the way to go. I did this twice in one week. The effects? In a word: Wow. I have been seriously on my game lately. I've been having wonderful fun talking to people both online and in real life. And the people I'm interacting with seem to be having fun, too. They're friendly and welcoming. I don't feel awkward, I don't want to withdraw. My wit is in good form. This was precisely what I'd hoped to achieve. But wait! There's more! That extra confidence has affected my job performance, especially in my ambulance work. I've been feeling more capable and secure in my skills, and I'm having better interaction with my patients and crewmates. This is 36 flavors of awesome. I do not attribute these results entirely to Charisma. As you all know, it takes more than a bottle of oil to get results. Intention is hugely important. I had already made a couple of little changes in my life that were helping me to a better mental/emotional space. I got the ball rolling. But lemme tell ya, Charisma definitely gave it a good kick. Do not hesitate to add this one to your TAL arsenal.

For my skin chemistry, if there's one BPAL note that's a rotten little tease, it's honey. I remain optimistic and try the honey blends, but it's always the same: honey comes on all sweet and promising, just long enough to get me excited, and then it goes to baby powder. I can almost hear it laughing. If BPAL honey had a theme song, it would be "I Know What Boys Like" by the Waitresses. Ronin starts off so nice and sexy, with the sandalwood and pepper playing off each other over a sweet underlay of honey and oakmoss. And then - POOF - Baby Powder of Doom. O did me the same way, and aging didn't help it, so I doubt I'll ever be able to wear this. My heart is broken, because Ronin would be bottle-worthy if only the honey would behave. Dammit so much.

This started off so unusual-smelling, in a good way. Then... I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line patchouli and my skin stopped getting along. Lately everything I try with patchouli in it smells like Bag Balm. This is no different: Bag Balm single note. Which is great if you're a cow with a chapped udder, not so much if you're a human who wants to smell good. That's a shame, because I found this one really intriguing before it went south.

A freebie from the Lab. I'm not a pine fan, but this one surprised me. It goes on in a blast of pine air freshener, but after a bit it settles down and takes on the sparkle that I usually get from the Lab's grapefruit note. Is there grapefruit in here? I could swear there is. Anyway, the end result is a light, effervescent pine scent that's altogether pleasant and really quite wearable. It's a delightful little blend for sure, and I did like it but I knew I wouldn't wear it often, so I sent it on down the road to brighten someone else's day. Happy trails, my piney little friend.

I don't know what happened. There were no problem notes listed in the description. Brown Jenkins should have been a winner. But on my skin? Nail polish remover. Perhaps this is my skin's way of telling me I already have enough incense blends.

Boomslang: A Drama in One Minute Nose: Mmm, cocoa! Skin: Oooh, CHOCOLATE!! [GULP] Nose: Hey! Skin: *urp* Mm? Whazzat? Nose: You ate up all the chocolate! Skin: What? No I...oh. Huh. Well...here, you can, um, sniff the wrapper. Nose: Gee, thanks a lot. Skin: ...sorry...

I've been wanting to do a proper review of this for a long time, but whenever I try the only words that come are This is exactly what I wanted Snake Oil to smell like. My bottle of SO is a little over a year old, developing some character so that I like it more than I first did, but I doubt it'll ever age into something as good as Death Adder is right now. It's the vetiver. DA is dark and exotic and sweet like SO, but the vetiver gives it enough of an edge to keep it from being too friendly. It's inviting, yet dangerous. I can't wait to see how this ages.

Um. Well. Renfield is certainly unusual. This goes on green, mossy, and dank. Just sniffing this makes my lungs feel heavy with damp air. There's a chill here, something a little high pitched that really does evoke the image of a bug-eating lunatic keening to himself in a cold, dark, damp cell. There is artistry in this blend, and while I can appreciate it, I am not enjoying it. It takes almost an hour before the cumin creeps in like a crafty thought and takes the swampy edge off the moss and patchouli. The neroli doesn't show itself to me. It ends up being a fairly inoffensive blend of cumin and moss, but I don't like it enough to sit through an hour of feeling like I'm breathing bad air. Hats off to those who can wear this and make it work, because it's truly unique.

Cathode. It's cool and green like forest shade, and it makes me feel remote from everyone else but in a good way, like I'm happy to be alone in that lovely forest with the sunlight and shade and trees all to myself.

Oddly enough, I don't get a lot of peach from this. The heliotrope, white musk and bergamot seem to be the strongest at first, with the peach only occasionally showing itself, like a little girl standing in the sunshine and playing peek-a-boo with you from behind an armload of flowers. It's so cheerful and sunny that I'm not sure I can bring my curmudgeonly self to leave the house smelling like this. Once the initial sparkle subsides, the oakmoss combines with the peach and musk to create a warm, rich, reddish smell that is very pleasing. It's truly beautiful, but it's just too nice for me to carry off.

Smells like the Arkham New Age Shop is having a sale on Big Red chewing gum.

My nickname for this one is Monastic Pancakes. It starts out with a strong, syrupy kick, but there is incense waiting underneath. As the sweetness dies back, Al-Azif unfolds itself to reveal...well, to reveal my new favorite incense blend. I'm not good at identifying notes, but I think there's frankincense here, and something darkening the mix. In the warm shadows, the lingering vestiges of that sticky sweetness entwine with pious incense to produce something voluptuous and primal, yet holy. Something pagan; a little more dangerous. This blend definitely evokes a place of worship...but this ain't no Saint Paul's, brothers and sisters. Nobody wears a halo here. We are not reaching for the light. We are heading into the darkness to see what mystery lives there, and we are wearing very little if we are wearing anything at all. This is the church where there are no 'sins' of the flesh. This is the church where if you wanna get right, you gotta get down. I tested this one alongside Scales of Deprivation, another incense fave, and there is a difference in character. Scales has the same 'churchy' feel, but it's a lighter and more cerebral blend, calm and comforting, good for those contemplative days. Al-Azif is all inviting, dark and sybaritic, the one to wear when you want to get up to some trouble. Choose your guide wisely, incense-loving pilgrim: Scales of Deprivation lays a gentle, patient hand on your shoulder and says, "You will find your way." Al-Azif takes you by the hips and pulls you close, looks you in the eye and purrs, "I'll show you God." Bottle of each! It's the only way.

I want to be friends with rose, but rose doesn't want to be friends with me. It always goes sour or soapy. Nevertheless, I got a decant of this when CD first went live. And was rewarded for my optimism with the overpowering reek of sour, pickled wood. So, like growwild up there, I put it aside to let it age for a few months. I tried it again recently, and this time I got...the overpowering reek of sour, pickled wood. It would appear that the enmity between rose and my skin is of a deep and abiding sort, destined to outlast Time itself.

So this is what all the fuss is about. The legendary Shub-Niggurath, immortalized in story, song (somewhere, I'm sure) and squeeful post. The Outer God who sparked many an epic eBay battle and caused great and jealous hoarding among those who fell prey to its dark, spicy beauty. I came to BPAL a scant year ago, by which time the Black Goat had come and gone. Long have I listened to the stories and read the reviews and thought to myself, Alas, I will never truly know the dark glory of Shub-Niggurath, for I shall never have the fortune to be in its presence. And yet, this may be a good thing, for I have heard that to look upon the Outer Gods can reduce one to gibbering madness. I think I read that somewhere. Then it came back as a GC, so I bought an imp. Hah! There's very little that I can add to what's already been said, but I would like to address the lemon issue. I don't believe there's lemon in Shub. On me, lemon turns into King Ghidorah, a shrieking yellow monster obliterating everything around it, and that's not happening here--in fact, I don't get any lemon at all. If there is any lemon present, it's getting seriously curb stomped by the other notes (which is just fine). Think of the ginger as Godzilla, if you like, with Mothra as the resins and Rodan representing the spices and herbs--it's Destroy All Monsters in a bottle! Perhaps this is one of those 'miracle' blends that works even though it contains dealbreaking notes, but I think it's more likely that the ginger is coming across as lemony. Just my two cents. As for other impressions, this didn't do much for me in the initial wet stage, but once it started heading for the drydown, all I could think was Damn, this smells good. This isn't just old-fashioned gingerbread. This is primordial gingerbread: dark and sweet and spicy and somehow dangerous. Its popularity isn't surprising: something about this blend just goes straight for the hindbrain and makes you want more. I've already ordered a bottle, and it looks like the imp is going to be naught but a fond memory by the time it gets here. Thanks to the Lab for bringing this one back to enslave a new generation!

Twelve pages of reviews? I can see why. The bright red oil beads up on my skin when applied and needs to be rubbed in. Odd. But once my skin gets hold of it, oh my goodness. There is a fruity touch to make it a 'red' smell, but mainly it's creamy honey and vanilla with an underlying spicy tingle. Honey can go wonky on my skin, but here it behaves and there's none of the waxiness I get from straight dragon's blood. This is warm and cuddly and comforting. It lasts a good long time and has a pretty strong throw--it's the scent I'd wear if I wanted to comfort someone else. It smells nourishing. This is exactly what I would imagine dragon's milk to be: rich and sweet and creamy, with a fire that warms but does not burn. I can see a loving mother dragon nursing her little one on this, passing along the gift of fire mixed with her own nurturing sweetness.

Long-haired, bearded Imp, draped in tie-dye and festooned with love beads and peace signs, ambles out from behind the bead curtain in a fog of patchouli and good vibes. He greets you with a lazy grin and a heartfelt "Hey, maaaan" and then takes a big bite of a juicy, fragrant peach. He smells darn good for a hippie, but he's still too hippie for me.

Cookies. Cookies??? No, wait... It's...yes, that's Yankee Candle. Not a Yankee Candle, but a Yankee Candle store: that conglomeration of scent that hits you as soon as you walk in. And despite the name, it will not shut up. Rather than whisper and then vanish, Silence holds that YC note long and loud. Weird. That is so not what I was expecting.

Oh man, that's cake, all right. An incredibly true cake smell. The currants sneak in after a while, adding a bit of fruity sparkle to the cakey sweetness. You can almost see the swirls of thick white frosting and the garnet ribbon of sweet-tart fruit preserve between the layers. It smells absolutely luscious. If a bakery were selling something that smelled like this, I'd order a big slice. As perfume, though, this is WAY foodier than I want to smell. Off to the swaps, you scrumptious little thing, you. I want cake now.

Ah, the very first BPAL I ever tried. O smelled of sexy honey in the imp but turned to baby powder the very instant it touched my skin. Long lasting baby powder. With great throw. Disappointed but still optimistic, I scrubbed off O and applied Scherezade. Apparently, I did not do a good job getting rid of O, because every time Scherezade tried to establish herself, O jumped out of nowhere and hit her over the head with a powder puff. Aging didn't help at all. Aged, O became a sexy skin-smell...for all of three minutes before turning into baby powder again, the uncooperative little bint. I ask you, is that any way for a submissive to behave?

This is more like Post-Midnight Mass: the scent of the quiet church after everyone's gone home, a whiff of sweet incense still in the air, the lingering glow of peace and goodwill. The priest moves about unhurriedly, softly singing a hymn as he lovingly puts the hymnbooks back in their racks, tidying up the place most sacred to him. This is his favorite part of Midnight Mass. This is his quality time alone with the Lord, his true communion.

Initially it smells exactly like one of those chocolate oranges. If I were to jump off the roof at this stage, I would not splatter in the street. Instead, I would shatter into tasty little wedges of orange-flavored chocolate. After that deceptively sweet beginning, though, this one turns deadly serious. I still get orange, but not so much chocolate. The notes escape me. The mental image, however, is flashes of dull orange fire glimpsed through thick clouds of black smoke. There's some kind of ritual going on behind that dark screen, and it would frighten me to know what it involves. Serious and a little scary. Don't know how often I'll wear this, but I do like it.

Yep, apricot and clove. A simple combination that works well, the notes balancing each other out. It's a warm, chipper little scent, just the thing to dab a drop of in your cleavage on a sunny day to keep your mood upbeat.

This is predominantly grapefruit on me. Ordinarily that would be a good thing, as I like the Lab's grapefruit note, but there's something else in here that's not working. It smells okay, but it's hitting an unpleasant switch in my brain, to the point where I can't sniff this without my nerves getting badly jangled. My stomach knots up, and I have to wash this off. When I read the scent description, it kind of makes sense. If Beth was going for 'ravaged nerves' with this one, she nailed it.