bheansidhe

This comparison would never have occurred to me had I not been testing them side by side, but the vanilla bean note in Wezwanie/Hold is a dead ringer for the vanilla base in Hellboy's Liz: rich and voluptuous, and decadent as Haagen-Daas. The scents aren't otherwise alike, and I went into the skin test knowing full well and myrrh and honey hate my skin. So, given that caveat: The first slather is warm and sweet, anchored by amber and sandalwood. Not foody, but definitely gourmand. It's warm and blowsy and almost unbearably rich. This is by no means a dry or woody blend. But at my back I always hear Myrrh's thunderous footsteps coming near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast honey, horrified. For three shining seconds this is a luscious melange of amber and vanilla bean-flecked Nutella. In fact, it's vanilla Nutella incense. And then the myrrh and honey pull a Godzilla Meets Tokyo. I think it best that we draw a merciful curtain over the end of this skin test. Suffice it to say that if you're a fan of these notes, you should beg, borrow or steal a decant to test.

No tea… just lilac and hints of lavender over white musk. Some wisteria eventually. Smells like high-end Caswell and Massey Persian Lilac soap, but without the soap base. Ends up as single-note lilac. If that's your thing, this is your blend. Sophisticated, not at all soapy or shrill.

Honey is one of my DOOM notes. Whether it's listed as honey, beeswax, white honey, golden honey, or "honeyed," it never works in a blend on my skin. But, because I've had enough surprise hits from doom-notes, I tried AMOTMS. I think it's the star of this year's Shunga lineup, and I can't think of another blend that smells quite like it. What saves it for me might be the quince note (The Perfumed Garden also works for me despite harboring my twin enemies Myrrh and Jasmine). Wet: moist, golden tobacco indeed, like a light, fruity pipe blend. It's a juicy, golden-raisin-like tobacco infused with vanilla-drenched quince. It's a BIG golden smell - this blonde swings a pair of hips like Mae West. I don't get any booze, and I don't get any citrus astringency at all, either from the quince or the mandarin. It's soft, plush, and seductive. As it wears, it ripens very like a vanilla-cognac fruitcake, but the woodsy tobacco keeps it just this side of outright foody. It develops a warm spice note that I think might be the cognac. The throw is billowy and voluptuous. Also, at this stage, headache-inducing for me (thanks, honey). On drydown, I'm left with a buttery cognac fruitcake and tobacco. It never goes sharp and nasty or musty and nasty, which are my common reactions to fruit-booze and honey notes. Verdict: doesn't quite sing with my chemistry, but it manages to hum a few bars and fake it due to sheer overpowering awesome. I might keep the imp for sniffing.

I desperately want to find the volume knob on this scent and turn it up to FULL BLAST. But it's a lovely whisper behind a door, and I can barely hear it. I've got my nose plastered to my arm, horking like a truffle pig to track it down. This is delicate shoulders in a yellow sundress, and the nape of a swan neck, with a glimmer of gold necklace and white crystal earrings. The topnotes when wet are ginger, neroli and lime - a bright citrus without astringency. There's rose, but she's standing way in the back not bothering anyone. Bijoux stretches and settles down on the skin. The tarragon and coriander green it, the oud and amber deepen it, the neroli and lime brighten it, the white musk and floral notes adorn it, and the beeswax seals it. It's feminine and light, but not girlish in the least. It's indeed opulent, but restrained. TOO restrained. After thirty minutes, I can't smell it at all. I'm going to gently blot my tears with Bijoux's soft lace-edged hanky, if you don't mind, and pass her along with trembling lips to a better home with more cooperative chemistry.

DEAD-ON OLFACTORY PORTRAIT OF A MUSTY ANTIQUE STORE. This will either tempt you in, or repel you into the night. You know. Depending. Eau de junktique: books, old horsehair stuffing under shattered silk divans, and dusty corners. These are some of my favorite things, so I keep sniffing this and giggling. It's not perfume, in that I don't want to wear it, but I do like sniffing it. I actually like the smell of genuine dust, but my allergies are such that I can't enjoy it. This is all of the scent with none of the unpleasant reaction. This was drastically different than the prototype I tested at Will Call, which was heavier on the leaves and aquatics. The released scent is much closer to the "rotten linen" note in Julia Stone. The leaf component is reminiscent of November. ETA: I didn't read MidnightAeval's review before posting this. Sorry for the repetition. Great minds et al.

Seeing the label art, I immediately dubbed this "A Miskatonic Dozen!" Worth owning for the bottle alone, folks. So, Miskatonic 13 is decidedly unlike the other 13s, is an insane morpher, and is very chemistry-dependent to boot. If you love the Chaos Theory concept, I recommend trying this one just to see what the heck it's going to do on you. On me, it starts out as a flourless dark chocolate torte baked by an upscale European pastry chef who thinks Americans put too much sugar in everything and our palates need to be "reeducated." It's made of that extra-bitter Scharfenberger chocolate, finished with hand-whipped vanilla heavy cream. Not cakey, not fudgey, but insanely dark and rich, with almost no sugar to be smelled. Turns out the pastry chef was on a bit of a diet kick, because he substituted dried plums for butter in the mix. (I'm being politically correct. Prune growers went on a PR campaign a few years back and lobbied to change their product's name to "dried plums.") The musky plums blend well with the dark chocolate at this stage. Chocolate Madame Moriarty. Turns out the pastry chef was kind of a stoner, too, because he was burning some crazy headshop incense in the kitchen while this stuff was baking. It's starting to drown out the cake, and I'm left standing in the Chapel of Chocolate Moriarty. .....And the herbs come roaring up. At this point, with my chemistry, the blend goes out the window and starts to smell like some raw foodist revamp of chocolate torte that LOOKS like cake but is really made of dark carob chips and ground hemp seed and roadside grassy, pungent weeds. By now it's a strongly herbal blend soaked in plum juice. I'll note here that of the listed notes, myrrh and opoponax hate my skin, while black hellebore and cypress love it. I was hoping love would triumph over hate, but it looks like this blend is not meant to be. However, I strongly recommend dropping a coin in the slot and taking this crazy ride for yourself. This one is unique.

That's exactly it. Tropical Christmas. Made the boyfriend sneeze so violently that he couldn't get within ten feet of me, but I loved it. *wistful sigh* Oh well. Out PdlC goes. I pick what keeps me warm at night.

I won a bottle of Rubedo v4 in the Dirty South Will Call raffle to benefit Georgia Organics' Flooded Farm Relief fund. After I'm done reviewing it, the bottle is going on Ebay with proceeds from the sale to be donated to charity. Rubedo v4 is a solid, heavy scent, which would fit the concept of manifesting tangible form from inner Light. The first day I tested it, it was an overwhelming bloom of rose or rose geranium backed by another white floral (maybe magnolia), with a middle sweetness that suggested lotus. As the florals aged they became metallic, like a rose carved from copper and steel, but somehow still alive. I tested it again after the bottle had rested for a day. That time it opened with a sinus-clearing green camphor note married to the floral. It reads a bit like Red Devil or Schwarzer Mond at this stage. There are resins, but I can't decide which ones. Benzoin? Galbanum? On drydown, it has a earthy herbal sweetness laid over a resonant, resinous metallic finish. I like this stage the best, and it lasts for a good long while. This blend is insanely hard to describe. It's not a metallic or a floral or a resin, but it has all those components. It really does smell weighty and complex, like alchemy in motion. I can't wait for this line to be released.

Smells like Irish coffee served next to a big slice of cheesecake - emphasis on the coffee. It's a DEAD ringer for coffee topped off with milk foam, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a big shot of Frangelico or Kahluha. This is delicious and delightful in the vial, and I might get some for a room scent, but my skin eats it to dust and nothingness in fifteen minutes flat. At that stage, it so resembles the dregs of Eggnog or Sugar Cookie that I may as well have worn those scents instead. Boo! Maybe I'll hang onto it and give it a second try.

A big warm cup of spiced wassail, a smoky hearth, a roaring fire, and a tiny sprig of bitter white mistletoe. At first this blend is mostly "upper" notes dominated by apple or some other fruit juice, with hints of cinnamon, smoke, burning wood, and a slightly bitter earth note waaaay at the back. (I wouldn't classify this blend as alcoholic or foody, though.) As it dries, I still have wassail, but I get more evergreen, snow, and smoke with the wassail...and maaaaaybe a plate of dark chocolate Christmas fudge lingering at the finish. Subtle and delicious. REALLY great. No. REALLY.

This Hanged Man dangles like ripe, meditative fruit on a windless day. Apples, thin afternoon sunlight, blonde woods (oak? maybe birch?), and some kind of flowering vine twined round its base. Goes lighter, sweeter, and more ethereal as it dries, but it's definitely made of apples. Well, mainly apples. [ /Pratchett mode ]

I love the meaning of this oil's name. The image on the label is a bright swath of golden flames in a many-armed oil lamp (not candles) - after some Google image searches, I believe it could be... an aarti? (http://ifornature.blogspot.com/2009/08/jan...tami-pooja.html) The blend itself is warm, resonant, and meditative. It's subtle, with no one distinctive component. Holding the wand under my nose for a while, I get a warm, woodsy, slightly spicy resin incense on a faint waft of smoke. The burning / smoke component reminds me of Hanerot Halalu, but I don't get either honey or beeswax. Olive oil would make sense as a fuel source for the oil lamp, so I'm guessing olive oil (or some similar ancient lantern fuel) as the base. Or, given the culture, could this be ghee? I agree with the reviewers who suggest sandalwood (possibly with oud and nag champa). I get resins, but not myrrh, because myrrh goes awful on my skin and Daya does not (so if it's present in this blend, it's not dominant). There's also a spiced but non-foody warmth here that's just incredible. Like opening a carved sandalwood box that used to hold precious spices, whole nutmegs, scraps of cassia bark, pinches of scented resins, and getting just the velvety roundness of those notes without the spices themselves. After a while I get very low fruit notes, but I couldn't pick them out. I also get a hint or either rosewater or orange blossom water, but not a "floral" component. Sadly, Daya is *not* wearing well on me right now, but I'm going through some physical issues that may well be affecting my chemistry, so I'm holding onto the one I have for a while.

I just got around to testing this GC catalog staple for the first time. It smells happy in the vial, all right - I think it'd be great as a room scent. (Hey BPTP! Can we get Aunt Caroline's Atmosphere Spray, please?) Freshly applied, I smell candied orange pith - not as sharp and assertive as zest, but more pith - and possibly citron. There's a herbal note that smells like silver thyme or lemon thyme. I don't get any berry at all from this (strawberry or otherwise), but maybe some lotus root, which does smell pink and billowy. And possibly a hint of ..... banana? Pineapple? As it wears it takes on a burned-sugar note, not caramel, not spiced, but clear white molten sugar. Soft, cheerful, candied citrus and thyme. It doesn't quite like my skin, but it might make some bang-up drawer sachets.

In the vial, and just applied, this is an intense and realistic juicy green scent, full of of crushed stems and lily pollen. I can clearly smell the oak note underneath; it's reminiscent of the varnished flooring note in Pulcinella and Teresina. On me, this is Unfortunate Daylily Incident at the Bottom of the Gasoline Can. The lilies stay green and lovely, but the oak flooring note turns into something... wrong. Menacing, even. As I did my grocery shopping last night, I thought I'd maybe tracked in gasoline from the parking lot on the wheels of my (clingwrap-free) shopping cart, because I kept getting this faint but stomach wrenching whiff of something as I tooled up and down the aisles. To my horror, I realized it was DATBOTS. It's like missing the final step at the bottom of an olfactory staircase, and staggering into air. Disappointing chemistry. Not the fault of this blend. It will delight someone with better-behaved skin.

Well, after aging an imp of this specimen since its initial release, I have to say I'm REALLY pleased with the result. ETA: NEVER MIND. I was pleased with the result because I was actually testing CARFAX ABBEY and not The Carpathain Mountains. Wherever I sent my imp of The Carpathian Mountains, I'm sure it's still wintergreening away, bless its medicinal little heart.

Has no one suggested Miskatonic University? (A venerable New England MAGICAL university, whose vast library holds many rare, diabolical and obscure arcane works, including one of the few surviving legitimate copies of the Necronomicon. Home to innumerable scholars of the esoteric and the occult, and the notorious Dr. Herbert WestSeverus Snape. The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes and polished oakwood halls.) And for the bubotubors... Squirting Cucumber.

Sniffed from the bottle, Myth and I both got green flower stems of the more aggressively pungent type, like marigold or mum - that good, earthy green pungency, maybe sprays of fern. It smelled vividly of a fresh florist's bouquet, the expensive kind. Other than that.... floral. I'm not a floral person. It was floral. I'm sure I'll be embarrassed later when people post intricate and accurate descriptions later, but for right now I got.... floral.

Isn't it funny how not only our chemistry but also our noses are different? Myth and XOMom both sniffed this at Dirty South Will Call and got mostly "sugar" with notes of peach. I got, I swear, a peach cobbler version of Crumpet Rebellion - buttery, bubbling sweet pastry, fresh from the oven, with crystallized sugar baked into the crust. It was served with fluffy cotton candy and spun-sugar flowers. It's not a replacement for Candy Butcher (for one thing, I got not cream or chocolate notes), but it will make foody lovers very, very happy.

Sunbird has some of the smoky-myrrh smoulder of Priala, but it's brighter and, well, sunnier. I didn't get any citrus or verbena notes, though there's some herbal note in the background. Warm, glowing yellow. Lovely.

Dorian CLXXV - 175 (decant from bookandbroom) News flash: Dorian Incites Crumpet Rebellion! ...yep! My initial impression was correct: sweet red fruits and buttered, yeasty pastry added to Dorian. I have an imp of Crumpet right here, and the notes are *very* similar to this Chaos Dorian. I was going to call it "Drunken Dorian" because the very first whiff out of the vial was of red wine or dark red fruit, but once the cap was off, the red fruits and pastry rose up and dominated the nose. Possibly currant notes too. The lemon overlay in Dorian gives this a candied sweetness (almost like the candied peel of Pumpkin Queen). All in all, too sweet and foody for me, but someone else is going to LOVE this. ETA: After an hour of wearing both Chaos Dorian and Crumpet on my arm, the similarities are still striking. However, Chaos Dorian has a faintly boozy red note with the candied citrus, which is now reminding my nose of Sugar Skull. (You know you've been using BPAL too long when all of your scent descriptions are nothing but references to other scents. )

Uh, WHAT? The first time I tried it I got a weird bright-yellow miasma somewhere between artificial butter and overheated electrical wiring. Now, three weeks later, AFTER it's gone off sale, I am getting a smoky pestle-paste of peppercorn, cardamom, bitter chocolate and hazelnut. Because it's a quarter imp, I suspect accelerated aging due to oxidation. If you've been waffling on this one, definitely hang on to it for six months and re-try!

The concept is beautiful, but I had no hopes for this scent based on my skin's reaction to blackberry notes. Straight off, when I uncap the vial and sniff, I smell sharp armpit sweat - that's the blackberry. Blackberry doesn't like to be bottled up, and it lets you know about it. After a few seconds it backs off and I catch a bit of the orange blossom, and a touch of mint, but it's not foody. On my skin, it's again ruined by blackberry, which turns to dusty cat pee. After about thirty minutes I can catch the amber as a delicious warm middle note, but I only get it if I try hard. "Amber mint" is a strange but lovely concept, but on me the layers stay sharply divided; they never blend. For the right person, this will be an amazing and unique scent.

This smelled eerily familiar on my skin... not foody, but something that reminded me so much of food. Finally, I got it. On me it smells exactly like a really strong, fresh brew of Thai iced tea. Have you ever ordered it in a Thai restaurant? It's a deep brick-red, and as you pour in the condensed milk it swirls and becomes a lovely opalescent orange. It typically contains star anise, cinnamon, vanilla, tamarind, ginger, and red or orange food coloring (no lie. I've tried making it at home and stained everything from sink to stovetop bright red). I cannot guarantee that this is anything but a quirk of my personal chemistry, but when I asked for my boyfriend's opinion he agreed that I did, in fact, smell exactly like it. For reference: http://www.oneletterwords.com/thaitea/recipes.html Badger also has a distinct cedar note, not sap-fresh but weathered, and something earthy but without the dusty pungency of any of the lab's "dirt" notes. I like it - it's strange, strongly androgenous, and herbal without being foody.

My apologies if this is covered elsewhere, but what do we do when gallery space is full? I can't post my new pics either.

Wet: a blast of malevolent red wine and dark rose. The alcohol note burns off within about fifteen minutes, at which point it becomes rose and jasmine anchored by sandalwood. Heavy, heady. I don't know what variety of jasmine the lab uses for its other jasmine blends, but night-blooming jasmine (cestrum nocturnum) is not common essential-oil jasmine (Jasminum officinale or Jasminum grandiflora). Night-blooming jasmine, in this blend, smells much more like the jamine sambac (Jasminum sambac) of Kanishta, which I love, than to common jasmine , which hates me. Drydown ends in myrrh and rose, anchored by sandalwood. Myrrh also hates me. Throw level starts out *snort* WOOT ARGGGH MY NOSE MY NOSE heavy, then subsides after about 30 minutes (or my smeller goes numb). The florals go a little powdery. I'm sure the patchouli is in there as a base note anchor, but I never catch it. I predict this one will rely on your individual skin chemistry for success or failure (even moreso than other Lab blends).