bheansidhe

I also found a masculine Vanilla chaos! #122 - Vanilla plus a distinctly masculine lime-and-oakmoss fougere. This softens and becomes less citrus-y as it wears and develops more of a mossy, woodsy base, rounded on the edges by the vanilla, but definitely a guy's cologne. Also tested: #15 - Sniffed from the bottle, I got O + White Rabbit + extra honey + a very foody, buttery vanilla + a really rich golden cream note, like saffron cream. Testing confirmed the presence of honey, because it turned to to scorched plastic, a result of my incompatibility with all things honey. I toughed it out, and about an hour later I was rewarded with a sweet, dusty dutched cocoa, saffron cream, and a very light hint of amber. Still nothing I could wear, but very nice for those what love those notes. #33 - Vanilla and an intensely foody, juicy strawberry, with other pina colada notes in the background. #165 - Vanilla plus maybe heliotrope, and shreds of some solidified resin or fruit skin. Frankincense? It read as overwhelmingly cloying and powder-sweet at first, but mellowed out on the skin.

If this scent were a man, I would beg him to take me now. In a manly fashion.

I have found my incense smoke scent! Full disclosure: the Lab's cypress, myrtle, and olive blossom notes love my skin; its myrrh does not. I wasn't sure which would win. The result is dry, woodsy, with a stinging hint of saltpeter or brimstone anchoring a very evocative, realistic incense over burning coals. Gentler on my skin than Brimstone or Djinn, which I enjoy but can't wear in large quantities. This is smoky and the best kind of sinful to me.

What an odd but unexpectedly nice blend. Frankly I wasn't tempted by the description, and I was expecting an in-your-face blast of roaring ash and bitter woods. Not at all! Like the other reviewers, I note lotus or dragon's blood in the application. The oil itself is a pale rose'. This quickly warmed, lost its floral note, and became a dry spicy incense. Definitely evocative of red and gold flickering coals, with a hint of lingering char in the background. Verdict: not a pungent smoke note; this is an incense blend! I recommend for fans of that type of oil. ETA: On far drydown, I get carnation, dragon's blood, and pink peppercorn. Carnation can go to soap sometimes on me, but not this time; it stays peppery and spicy-sweet.

Wet, this is pure dirt and loam, but it quickly (within ten minutes) sublimates into a soft, pillowy, dry white note that's almost but not quite floral, almost but not quite vanilla. It's definitely powdery, but never cloying the way many floral notes go on me. Underneath remains the faintest cool, slightly (yes) disquieting layer of dry loam. Very interesting! I didn't expect to like this one, but I do. It's very goth baby powder.

When I first tested this blend in 2007, I got a confused jumble overlaid with lilac - to the point where I couldn't smell anything but lilac. Ambergris hates me anyway, so I set it aside. I sold my last dregs today and on a whim I dribbled out a test of the aged version. WOW, does aging benefit this blend! The lilac is soft, soft, verging on powdery but in a good way (if you like powdery scents), wrapped in mellow amber and a tickle of frankincense and sweet wood. The blend doesn't read as "floral" anymore to my nose. The orange has vanished entirely, removing some of the cologne-y tinge. If you're a lilac fan, find an older imp to test.

I LOVE this, and I didn't expect to at all. Sometimes the Lab's snow and winter blends run together in my mind, but this one stands out - it really is soft and pillowy and comforting. The feel is more like Waltz of the Snowflakes without the sweet evergreen notes; this is snow and soft air and light loam. Wet, it opens with gentle peppermint, but that fades fast, and the dominant notes are creamy, non-foody vanilla, a sheer haze of something like white sandalwood and/or white musk, something almost but not quite like marshmallow, and the lightest of earth and wood. It's very subtle. I slathered yesterday and was told by multiple people that I smelled wonderful. Sadly, in about two hours my skin eats it and it becomes drier and dustier. That just means I have to re-apply. Oh darn.

This is amazing! It smells like the bastard love child of Graveyard Dirt and Ouija - one of my favorite GCs. Ouija always smells like very strong brewed black tea and polished wood furniture to me, and Graveyard Dirt has all that pillowy black loam. I get both of those in Shadows. The "weeds" smell more like bouquets of dried aromatic herbs hanging way in the background, with nothing directly identifiable. Also, amazing when layered next to Christmas Eve in the Counting House - the hearth and loam blend so well. I smell like an earth elemental.

I'm testing this on the principle of "test everything that falls into your hands" which has served me so well in the past and unearthed favorites I never would have tested from the descriptions. This isn't my kind of blend, but I was pleasantly surprised by it anyway. The initial blast out of the vial reminds me a lot of Inganok Jewelers: high metals and an acidic citrus overlay - but there's something under here that's very masculine. Right on top I get hard ozone and crisp yuzu or petitgrain, as with a high-end men's cologne, and a really familiar musky resin that I can't place. I suspect a touch of white sage or vetiver (but just a touch!) near the finish; there's an earthy wild herbal smell, like creosote or chaparral, that I remember from the Arizona desert. The overall effect is very much like bare moors and dark trees overlaid with bright links of chain. Like a picture book for my nose, I swear. Anyway, Marley's Ghost = good on a guy.

What, no one's quoted Wikipedia yet? Okay, I'll be the bad guy. Kourabiedes are Greek butter cookies that resemble light and airy shortbread, but are typically made with the addition of almonds. Kourabiedes are sometimes made with brandy for flavoring, though vanilla, mastika or rose water are also popular.In some regions of Greece, the Christmas kourabiedes are adorned with a single whole spice clove embedded in each biscuit. The base here is pure delicious spice cookie. When I open the vial I get a blast of booze that could easily be rum or brandy. It's got the usual delicious melange of baking spices - I get clove, LOTS of powdered ginger, nutmeg, allspice, a hint of cinnamon - but they're so well blended that no spice dominates. There's a rich buttery undertone carrying the spice along. Best of all, it's actually behaving on my skin, instead of going Single Note Clove or Plastic butter. You might be thinking "Oh, another spice cookie blend," but this one is dry and snappy and complex and maybe the best one yet.

This is just plain amazing for about ten seconds - and then it turns to single-note bayberry candle on me. I foresee oil burners in my future, because it's too nice in its raw form to swap away.

"Yule at the pub" is spot on. The opening bars of this dance are dark ale and strongly spiced fruitcake. The beer is thick, yeasty and hoppy, with the sweet black head of a fresh Guinness. The spices dominate with cinnamon, clove, allspice, and what smells like wine-stewed plums or prunes - an earthy, figgy fruit. I say beer and fruit, but I don't mean boozy or berry-like at all. As it wears, the blend ages to a fifty/fifty split of spicy fruit and dark resinous wood - the age-blackened timbers and dark shellaced floor of an old British pub. Clove-spiced beer-soaked dark wood. Tragic discontinuation!

The top notes are the more delicate baking spices: nutmeg, allspice, mace, cardamom. There might be the lightest sprinkle of cinnamon, but I usually amp that note, and it's not dominant here. The middle hints of holiday baking, but without an overtly dessert-like quality: unfrosted carrot cake, fig, bread pudding, and fruitcake. I don't get citrus off hand (though there could be some orange zest in the blend), but I do get a faint whiffs of cranberries and maraschino cherries, and maybe a touch of candied ginger. The drydown adds a yeasty sweet bread note, like the inside of a fresh loaf of challah, lightly buttered, while continuing with the spices and the lovely bread pudding middle. Overall: delicious!

Very fizzy and citrus-y. Great Indian summer scent, when it's still hot and kind of dry, and you want something light and refreshing on your pulse points. Then it starts to smell like, I swear to you, pomegranate-tinged cotton candy floss. Apparently my skin thinks this is tasty, because it eats it up. All gone.

Heavy cocoa & tobacco right offhand, and an almost soapy star anise. For such warm notes listed, this blend is surprisingly cool and herbal. The notes surge over & slide under each other; the scent is choppy, not melded, which is interesting in its own way, since each sniff is different. Cocoa and red musk finally fight their way to the top. ...ending, sadly, in weird herbal soap. Blast my skin.

PIRATES IN THE POMEGRANATE PATCH! Sharp, dark, and interesting, with noticeable tar and pepper salting up the fruit. I like it.

The new Dawn: Cernunnos is very piney and completely devoid of musk. It's lovely, dark and green. I also recommend Yew Trees, Belladonna, and Nocnitsa.

Yep - gingersnap cookies with candied citrus peel, or maybe some lemon pound cake. The citrus note fades fairly fast and just leaves gingersnap crumbs on the plate. God, this makes me hungry.

Astringent, biting and effervescent. Yuzu and lemon-lime soda hit by lightning and served in a white metal beaker. A real jolt. I LOVE how metaphorical these scents are...

Frimped from the costume contest at DSWC! Honey or waxy honeycomb, rootbeer, and a sweet, dusty herbal note like Roman chamomile or hyssop. A hint of wood in here too. In the spirit of the Lab's descriptions.... This smells like sweet honeyed promises, a big swig of Aunt Ruby's home-brewed sasparilla, and sunshine beating down on the fresh-mowed meadow and the rickety wooden bandstand where the candidate is stumping. Hee. Honey hates me, so this will never work, but it's fun to pick out the metaphors.

No soap, no bitter note, no blood; just musk, musk, and more musk, plus just the faintest peppery nose-prickle of snow. This is Smut sans sugar, Smut melted down into dark, dark liquid Eau de Sex God. If this scent was a guy, I'd beg him to bang me against the wall. TMI? I think not, my friends. I think not.

Sniffed: I agree with myth; aquatic plus a stomach-churning note of aquarium bilge. However, just as Encroaching Madness did a volte-face on the skin, so does PoF. It turns to dryer sheets, lime, and then a light mellow ozone-and-citrus scent, quite breezy and pleasant. Just.. don't sniff it wet, okay? Test it first.

"Old foul, bad yellow things." Well GEE, Beth, when you put it so temptingly, how can I resist? Smelled from vial: foot funk. Bad foot funky. Funky funky foot funk. Applied: complete 180 degree rotation into a lovely crisp green and floral scent. Perfect for those hot golden summer days when you stand at your upstairs window and look out at the cool green lawn shadows and the merry dandelions and the buttercups blooming, whilst behind you the wallpaper creeps closer and closer.... Really, a winner. Pinch your nose and slap it on and see how it works for you.

...aaand, on me, it's dusting powder. Very expensive perfumed dusting powder, from an Oriental type of perfume, but dusting powder. No mint, no rose, no discernable florals; just powdery resins. Very proper and Victorian, very light and feminine. Don't mind me, dear; I'll just be boozing it up with the gravediggers over in the corner. You carry on without me.

There's a Mexican pastry that my boyfriend and I are addicted to, called a Beso ("kiss"). It's a round sweet bread sliced in half, filled with strawberry-guava jelly, sandwiched back together, and then frosted all over with this white granulated sugar-and-buttercream-frosting-stuff. And when I say "buttercream" I'm pretty sure I mean "pure lard" but ooooohhhh my gawwwwwd they are good. And rich. You wouldn't think from the description, but we typically cut one beso in half to share or else we get a little sick. GOOD TIMES. The number of besos that come home from the store are the number of besos I eat the second I get home, with the rest of the groceries still unpacked and melting on the counter. http://www.barrypopik.com/index.php/texas/entry/besos_mexican_pastry_kisses/ Golletes smells exactly, I mean to the life, like sticking my head in a box of fresh-baked besos and whiffing.