lunareclipse

Sniffing this imp feels a little like getting smacked in the face by those thorny vines in the description. It's an epic vetiver bitchslap, sexy in a sadomasochistic, take-no-prisoners kind of way. It doesn't really smell of blood, but evokes it: I almost expected to feel a warm trickle down my cheek... I adore vetiver. On the skin, it balances a little: the eye-watering woodsy sting is mellowed a bit by something a little musky and resinous. It still smells overwhelmingly green-brown-black. There's almost a subtle leather note, and a bit of... stone? Granite. I understand why a previous reviewer evoked whiskey: Islay scotches have a lot of the same salty-stony-smoky-peaty notes, but without vetiver's aggressive greenness or the dragon's blood's skin musk. It's an untamed scent, one that conjures desolate wildernesses. It's sexy, but not in a seductive, flowers-and-sweets way: this is wild, animalistic sex, rolling around in the leafmold in the dark forest at the top of the cliffs overlooking the sea. I can see myself wearing it a lot.

I don't get it. There isn't a single note in here that I don't like, but as a whole, it's not pleasant - the sweetness of the dragon's blood and red musk peep out occasionally, but they're drowned in a muddy patchouli/vetiver accord. I never thought there could be such a thing as too much vetiver or patchouli for me, but this smells a bit too much like dirt and smoke even for my taste.

I don't know why, but I'm getting a musky cocoa scent off this, with a whiff of orange in the back. It's a little like the orange shaped chocolates you get around Yuletide - the whack-to-open ones? I love those things. Chocolate + orange + mild violence: what could be bad? Despite the reminder of a yummy treat, though, it's not foody, somehow: it's the impression of the food without any of its edibility. It warms into a warm, rich, deep accord; very sexy, very sensual. I still get a chocolatey vibe, and some orangeyness, but there's still no food component: I don't smell like a bakery, I don't want to nibble on my own wrist, I'm not getting the weird and unplaceable urge to go make something in the kitchen. The promised feral component isn't there either: this is a very rousing scent, but to me, it's reminiscent of satin sheets, velvet lingerie, and candlelight - no less passionate, but a decadent passion rather than a wild one. Yum.

This is a very nostalgic, melancholy scent: dried, dusty roses and old, splintery wood. It's like finding a decades-old wooden box full of love letters scented with rose eau-de-toilette in an attic; there's a memory of sweetness and love, overshadowed by the sorrow of age and loss. There's something ineffably Victorian cult-of-mourning about the scent. I'll keep the imp but never get a bottle: I'm glad to have this occasionally, but I'm seldom in the mood for rose perfumes.

I get an aggressive floral slap across the face, sweet and nectar-y: GARDENIA! and lavender with a whiff of orange blossom. The darker, subtler wood, spice, and booze notes are lost, subsumed in the overwhelming rush of the florals. Which is a shame, as I'd love a coriander-ebony-absinthe-and-whiskey perfume with undertones of floral scents. As it is, I think Tavern of Hell is Not For Me.

I am usually not overwhelmingly fond of 'foody' smells. My Beloved is already sufficiently convinced that a gentle gnaw is a sign of affection: I don't feel any strong need to egg him on. However. Swank defies that rule for me: it is citrusy, crisp, and effervescent, with a pleasant herbal undertone. I'd argue that it smells like a martini - to me, the term 'martini' applied to any cocktail served in a cone-shaped, stemmed glass is vexing, to say the least - but it does smell sublimely cocktail-y, in a very pleasant way. Whatever the cocktail is, it's got pomegranate juice, a nice, herbaceous gin, either club soda or tonic water, and maybe the slightest splash of lime. Yum. I think I'll go mix a round of Swank cocktails now! Not only does this smell incredibly drinkable, it's amazingly wearable - a clean, crisp, sophisticated scent that lasts for hours and is, to me, seasonless - the drink might be summery, but the pomegranate smell is something I associate so strongly with winter that I'll wear it year round.

When I was a girl, I had some dolls that were dressed in flower costumes - a rose, a daffodil, an iris, etc. A bit of research online turns up that they were called "Rose Petal Place." They were all scented with a fragrance that was sweet, somewhat floral and somewhat plasticky. On my skin, L'Ecole des Filles smells exactly like those dolls. So, while I enjoyed the jolt of nostalgia that I got every time I sniffed my wrist last night, I think I'll take this as further proof that the great majority of florals are, sadly, Not For Me.

I'm having a lot of trouble quantifying Aries - or even deciding if I love it or hate it. Both in the bottle and on the skin, I get a weird almost-chemical almost-soapy sweetness, with the faintest hints of ginger and pepper behind it - could that be the dragon's blood-honeysuckle accord? I had really hoped that the hot, fiery spices and resins would dominate the blend, rather than this strange sweetness. That said, I'm oddly attracted to the scent, much as I'm repelled by it. It fits somehow, in certain moods - not a scent that I wear to smell pretty for others, but one I wear to feel strong in myself. I have the same reaction to the (completely different) notes in Kali, which to me has a strong overtone of sweet-to-the-point-of-almost-rot plums, but makes me feel invincible whenever I wear it.

In the imp: an intriguing confluence of herbal aromas. Wet: Laundry detergent. Drat. Oh, well, Kumiho went through a similar phase; maybe it just needs to dry? Drydown: Nope, still laundry detergent. Don't get me wrong; it's a classy, upscale laundry detergent, the type you'd wash your 1000-thread-count sheets in, but... laundry detergent nonetheless. Sigh. And I was so hoping for an herbal mojito kind of scent, something lovely and cool for summer. Oh well.

In the vial, Kumiho smells crisp and clean with the faintest hint of spice and sweetness... like an upscale, environmentally-friendly, aromatheraputic housecleaning product. That's the wet smell on my skin, too. About a minute and a half after it hits my skin, though, it opens up into an amazing, delicate, sweet almost-floral with lots of tea and citrus. The gingery heat that I'd expected isn't there - or if it is, it's the cool, tangy green ginger from Thai & Viet cuisine rather than the hot, potent ginger from Chinese or Indian food. This is a perfect scent for hot, sweaty summer days - sweet yet crisp and clean. It's the olfactory equivalent of a tall frosty drink, and I feel cooler (and less schvitzy) just for having it on.

The chill waters of the Orkney coast, tea-leaved willow, honey-touched Grass-of-Parnassus, sea aster, and Scottish Primrose. In the bottle: A honeyed floral, with a pleasant marine/grass/melon accord beneath it. Wet: As soon as Selkie hits my skin, I get a flash of (ohno) bubblegum. Fortunately, this fades quickly into a gentler honey note, with those same seasidey floral & grassy notes. It's got amazing throw, too... I felt like I was enveloped in a cloud of scent, and when I offered Beloved a wrist to sniff, he said 'Don't bother - I can smell it from across the room.' Note to self: apply cautiously! Drydown: The marine notes become much more subtle, leaving a pleasant sweet floral with just the faintest tang of salt spray. Overall, exactly the lovely, ethereal and cool-smelling summer scent I was hoping it would be! edited to add Lab's scent description; full text (with poetry) on pg 1 of thread.

In the bottle, Bakeneko is a warm, musky citrus with gentle hints of spices and tea - a scent I associate with winter (mulled drinks and oranges for the Christmas season, perhaps?). On, the juicy orange smell pops up forcefully for a moment, then subsides gracefully into a tea-cinnamon-cardamom accord that reminds me of my favorite chai. There's something decidedly feline throughout - a warm, soft luxuriousness with a hint of sharp little teeth and muscle. It's the perfect warm, sunny spot in what has become a very cold winter around here!

I've wanted to try this for a while, and I'm so grateful to the ever-awesome Silvertree for giving it to me! In the imp, this is very dark, powerful and musky. On, the musk is still the dominant note, although the woods and a sweet ambery note balance it nicely. There isn't a huge change as it dries down for me - I just keep getting that same delicious musky-woodsy-amber accord. Fenris lasts and lasts for me, too - almost 10 hours (8 of which were spent working very hard indeed) later, I can still smell it.

In the bottle: strong, stereotypically 'perfumey.' Before I wore BPAL, I wore Guerlain's Samsara a lot, and Baghdad has several similar notes... which might explain it. On, wet: on first application, the similarity to Samsara continues, but as it interacts with my skin, the notes change... the floral/spicy accord fades, and a dry, powdery amber/sandalwood one rises to the fore. Drydown: After about 15 minutes, everything's gone but the powdery amber and sandalwood accord. Overall, this is an evocative and pleasant scent.

A million thanks to Silvertree for the generous sharing! In the imp: Light, herbal, piney. A delicate and clean smell. On, wet: The pine really comes to the fore, with a hint of dampness and smokiness. Drydown: The delicate florals really come out, giving the damp-smoky-piney accord a subtle sweetness. I keep using the word 'delicate' to describe this perfume, and I think that sums it up nicely (although 'ethereal' would work well too). It's not my usual thwop-em-over-the-head-with-leather-and-resin kind of scent, but... I like it a lot.