bheansidhe

Peach VI is all about the sandalwood on me. Wet, this is dominated by bitter-sharp blackcurrant and spicy resins, with peach in the background. On the skin it wears into a woodsy, sinewy resin with dried fruits. I amp the sandalwood, but this is a very rounded and ripe sandalwood, bolstered by peach and patchouli, with the bite of blackcurrant on top. This would be a great masculine peach blend. Sadly, blackcurrant always turns to sweat on me, so I'm not the best skin tester. On drydown, it develops the resinous sweetness of dried fruits and incense. In sum: It's like hiking with a pleasantly sweaty hipster man in a dry, high-altitude forest (probably in a state with less than 2 inches of rainfall a year), smelling the woodsy air and munching dried peaches.

I just got an imp of this as a freebie with a sale. Thanks to djnevermore, I can absolutely, positively identify it as the smell of a raspberry Jaffa cake. It is a freakishly accurate scent portrait.

So what happens as this venerable lady approaches her first decade of aging in the imp? My decant of Lenore is liquid darkness. When I sniff her from the vial I get a papery top note, like a faded photograph of vetiver, but on the skin she's plum and patchouli, boiled down to syrup and poured on a stack of earthen loam pancakes. The final base note is a matte and blackened rose musk, but this is primarily a soft, dark, rounded patchouli syrup.

I would love to know what a Corrupt Chancelor smells like. Unfortunately, I am allergic to something in this blend. Horribly allergic. Not on my skin; I mean that as I bend to sniff the oil, my nasal passages slam shut like a pair of twin airbags have just deployed in a high-speed collision with a candy-apple red Man Turbo. All that comes through is a faint trickle of nebulous guy-scented oxygen. Can't smell a thing but vague... stuff. WHAT SISYPHEAN TORTURE IS THIS?

People's reactions to this one are all over the board, and I can see why. It is a total morpher. From the bottle I get a big nose of that heady bourbon vanilla and a lot of a rounded nuttiness that must be the coffee bean. It doesn't smell like brewed coffee. It actually reminds me of Wezwanie/Hold in the bottle. On my skin, this is PATCHOULI. Soft, earthy patchouli, not hippie-stink patchouli - which is nice, but the blend loses the bright sweetness and becomes almost loamy. From the "Himalayan spice" cabinet, I think I get hints of coriander and ginger. The bourbon vanilla is an undefined softness and not a foody vanilla at all. The far drydown is 100% that muted, earthy patchouli with a light masala spice vibe on top. For the right patchouli lover, this blend will SING. Alas, I am not that patchouli lover. It goes loamy and ashy on my skin - which is a fault of my skin, not the oil.

I'm pretty sure that "sinistre" is French and "disastro" is Italian. In Spanish it would be "Siniestro, Desastre." Thank you for helping with all that German! That's extremely useful. I tell you what, these indistinguishable Romance languages need to GET OFF MY LAWN. Sadly, my French predates 1800 and my Spanish and Italian are non-existent.

Miskatonic Philharwhatsis?? A QUICK GUIDE FOR THE AMERICAN WHO WISHES TO NOT HORRIBLY MANGLE THE GERMANIC IN THOUGHT, WORD, OR DEED (Italian or French, you're on your own.) A QUICK NOTE REGARDING "UND" "Und" is German for "and." It begins with an "oo" sound. If you say the English word "went" with your lips pursed to make an oo instead of the w, you have successfully approximated "und." A QUICK NOTE REGARDING THE TRANSCRIPTIONS HEREIN They are intended for, as it were, the common reader. They are not the "correct" phonemes. Schlaflos! Frage und Antwort SHLAHFF-lohs! FRAH-guh oont AHNT-vohrt (Sleepless! Questions and answers, or, Call and response) Unstern! Sinistre, Disastro OOHN-shtairn! (Unlucky!) (I'm going to guess the rest is pronounced "SEEN-istruh, DEE-zahs'troh") Trauervorspiel und Trauermarsch (Funeral Prelude and Funeral March) German "r" sounds are uvular, which kind of sounds like an engine in reverse. (using the same vowels as in "vowel") TROWURR-FOR-shpeel oont TROWURR-marsh ("a" as in "father") Und wir dachten der Toten (And we thought of the dead) OONT veer DAHCH-tun dare TOET-ehn There's that back-of-throat "ch" sound as in loch. If you can't manage it, go with a hard K. (Every German I know swallows that second T in Toten to make a D, or makes it a glottal stop depending on dialect, so I actually hear it as "TOE!ehnn." Sort of like a Brit swallows that double T in Butter.) Totentanz Dance of death TOE-ten-TAHNTS (hear it pronounced by a real speaker here) That terminal "z" is pronounced with a sharp "ts!"

Moroccan Pumpkin Patch is one dead sexy beast, and so seamless that you forget it wasn't always blended with pumpkin. Dark spicy foody deliciousness.

You aren't crazy! When it's wet on my skin, I also get a big waft of vetiver -- but, as you say, it's not scary. I used to buy Vetivert soap from Hové Parfumeur in New Orleans - it was a soft, grassy, vegetal soap, and it made me think I really liked vetiver. Most of the Lab's vetiver notes end up too aggressive for my skin (which made me think I *didn't* like vetiver). The vetiver-like note in Haunted Houses, though, is tempered by the "chilly mist" (really, like the cold vapours from a smoke machine), a sweet sandalwood-ish or oudh wood note, a hint of oakmoss, and a very light waft of cold white musk, like the ghost of lily-of-the-valley (though not floral). Also, it burns off quickly, and you're left with a really evocative melange of wet faint mist, dry old wood, and cold mossy stone that appears and disappears in fits and gusts. This ends up being very similar to Christmas Eve in the Counting House on me, which I have and enjoy and need to use the bottle of, so I won't be keeping my Haunted Houses imp you know what, I'll keep them both *sigh*. But I'm glad I tried it, and I think it will round out someone's collection nicely.

Like another reviewer, I find this turns rapidly to masala chai on my skin - the real kind served in restaurants, with heavy cream and perfumed spices. The pumpkin itself is pretty muted on my skin. Unlike that reviewer, I'm very happy with this stage. During the next stage, the rose blooms. Again I'm reminded of the more aromatic aspects of an Indian meal - now my wrist smells like some cream-rich dessert with rosewater and exotic spices. The final stage is creamier and dominated by the bergamot and carnation.

Maybe try Magus, Kubla Khan, Titus Andronicus, Half-Elf, The White Rider, and The Antikythera Mechanism (which has no sandalwood but is awesome).

Hemlock honey: in like a lion, out like a lamb. The oil is precisely the color of a bottle of 1838 yellow Chartreuse liquor. In the vial it's a viscous, thick, sap-tangled honey, heavy with medicinal evergreen notes. It's loud and kind of scary, but once it hits the skin, it quiets down and mellows into a realistic waxen comb, rather than a sugared honey. This stays thick and sweet on drydown, and very much like actual food-grade honey instead of a perfume. If honey loved my skin, I'd be all over this, because I love Lab evergreen blends. Though I will say this was the least nasty honey-skin interaction I've had to date, it still isn't for me (through no fault of its own). However, it's definitely worth seeking out for honey and evergreen lovers - don't let the first sniff put you off.

Fae Hairspray Forest. My brain is sad, by my nose is certain: fairies use AquaNet.

This is so amazing, I am begging myself not to drag my tired carcass back to D*Con and buy a bottle on the spot. (I seriously overspent.) It starts off with the gently astringent twin notes of benzoin and lavender - very much a herbal lavender, rather than sweet. Then the oudh rises up and everything becomes this warm, spicy melange of something warm and sharply woodsy. This blend is a love song to oudh.

If trees baked cakes for each others' birthdays, this is how their cake would smell. Resinous, woody, sweet, and complex - but a woody and vegetal scent, unmarred by human foodstuff. This vanilla is wholly of the vegetable kingdom. I just bought two bottles. I dunno, maybe I like it.

Moody, heady black florals over dark water. At the top edge I catch a wet fruit that could be blackberry, plum, or pomegranate; on the skin there's a winey rose and sulty orchid. At the bottom I catch a note that's not quite an aquatic but more of a... water musk, if there were such a thing. I get a cool, lingering blue musk on my skin the next day. Sadly-for-me, this blend might contain one of my death notes (honey or myrrh), since it goes sour on my skin. Verdict: extremely dark, feminine floral with blue musk and myrrh/honey underpinnings. I recommend seeking it out if those traits appeal to you, because it's lovely and I'd keep it were it not for the chemistry mismatch.

I have just acquired an aged imp of this blend. It smells like ALL of the amazing viscous sweet dark musky bits of Snake Oil, without the notes that sulk and turn sour on my skin. Win!

This smells a whole lot like The Rat King plus some faint notes of cold stone and wet evergreen. It's musky, warm, spicy, and masculine without being dirty or earthy. I hope the name isn't scaring people off, because this is great, if a little strong for a room spray - a little goes a long way. I've been spraying paper towels and laying them in the bottom of my closet among the *cough* athletic shoes, which can only be improved by the addition of some wererat funk.

Banana bread, yeasty foamy beer, soft worn oak tabletops, some faint traces of leather and metal. Very atmospheric (no pun intended).

Oh no! I don't mean to waste money on imps you might hate. While it would probably be a fun experiment to find a really tobacco-y or orchid-y blend for $1 or $2 on the forum, and see if it does the same cologne thing on you, you can always resell it or swap it away. But I guarantee that the longer you try BPALs, the more you'll run across the notes you suspect aren't working. Just keep trying blends that sound appealing and join us in SPREADSHEET MADNESS. Keeping notes on how each blend tests out will give you an idea of what scents probably aren't your friend. Or you can join a circular swap (those these can be slow, and you're testing imps that are pretty aged by the time they come to you). Or you can find people who offer quarter-imp decants of the recent LEs; I picked up an inexpensive tester set of the recent Weenies (and I'm glad I did, because only one of the ones I thought I'd love worked on me).

99 times out of 100, any blends that list labdanum, teak, honey (including "honeycomb" and "beeswax"), myrrh, or ambergris as components will go incredibly foul on my skin. So it's possible you're having an individual chemistry reaction to the orchid, the musks, the "tobacco" essence, or some other note in those blends. The best thing to do is get a few imps that also have those notes and do skin tests. Do they all start to smell like cologne on you? Monthly chemistry shifts, and sometimes diet, can also make blends smell different (good, bad, or just different) on your skin.

ROTFL. Let's see. How far can I push the "review by emoticon" window? Fish. Incense. Fish incense. At first I was all: And *dab* and it was all: And I was all: And then it came up with: And I was all: ??? But it assured me: Verdict: Starts out a scary, pungent, but actually un-fishlike incense, with murky aquatics. Quickly mellows to cold mist, incense, and (I swear) slightly scorched coffee. Since I quite like the smell of burnt coffee, this was all right in the end. Quite the bait (sic) and switch, Beth!

Most "spiced fruit juice" blends from the Lab veer into Halloween or Christmas territory for me. While notes of mulled wine or spiced sherry can be delicious scents, they carry a strong holiday scent association that (for me) limits their wearability to those times of the year. Fortunately, Cuelebre doesn't smell like a holiday. It smells like a heady, cognac-infused, red-and-gold dragon-style throwdown. First out of the gate is the pomegranate, red and juicy and sweet but not candied or cloying. The saffron and cognac luff it out in warm billows. I don't specifically catch vanilla or leather in here, but the myrrh sharpens and grounds the blend overall. The cognac, in some miracle, never goes sour or alcoholic the way it does in 99% of other cognac-containing blends; it's like catching cognac fumes in the back of your throat without ever swallowing the liquid itself. Liquid win!

So, I'm no expert, but night-blooming jasmine (Cestrum nocturnum) is a shrub in Solanaceae (the potato family), as opposed to Jasminum officinale, which is in the olive family (Oleaceae). This may explain why Iole isn't a shrieking floral death-note, like every other jasmine-containing blend I've tested except Kanishta (which is jasmine sambac). Though admittedly sharp, this blend also has a smoky, nutty warmth to it. If I huff hard, I can get the actual bourbon vanilla note, but mostly I smell the sandalwood, a lot of slightly astringent oak bark, and a faint whisper of leather. I smell the fig wet, but it vanishes on the skin except for a kind of rounded juiciness. This is cleavage juice. Overall heady stuff. And strong. Normally I find the lab's scent interpretations spot-on, but I wouldn't call this blend "studious" in the least. Unless you're studying the Kama Sutra. Sulty, feminine, womanly but not overpowering. Sadly, there's something in here that doesn't like me on far drydown. If you like Gomorrah or Kanishta, try Iole. If you're terrified of "jasmine," try Iole. If you hate husky, sultry florals, give it a pass.

You know how some scents are so well blended that you can't really pick out individual notes, while others are a cacophony of warring states? Lindworm is door #3. Each of the components comes out strong and distinct, but as neatly dovetailed as a three-legged stool. First there's the smoke - something between burning leaves and the snap of a freshly lit cigarette (but not dirty ashtray). Right behind that is fresh new leather -- supple, like a pair of driving gloves, say, as opposed to stiff old motorcycle chaps. Then there's the sharp green base, which is all weeds and wild herbal notes. No lawn or culinary herbs in here. I think I get dandelion, and sweetgrass, and maybe some chamomile. Definitely a medley of medieval herbs, and some of the nose-clearing astringency of freshly mown hay. When wet, this is a really sinewy, feral scent. It smells like the aftershave an faun would splash on before cruising the meadow for hot young dryads. It softens and goes a little powdery on drydown, but still stays clean and herbal. Thankfully, NO plastic beach balls here.