strangemusic

I love the label. I can't decide if the figure is bellowing, or sticking its tongue out at me, but I love it! This is a cool, watery, pale green scent; I'm put in mind of fae cucumber juice. There is an overall clarity and muted sparkle to this oil, though-- these florals are gentle balm, dripping soothing moisture unto the soul. Just my own wee opinion, but this is the nasal equivalent to 'Heirloom' from Björk's Vespertine album... just smooth, glassy, and soft, with a watery, firm incisor bite (think slightly over-ripe melon, that feel at your gums.) Comforting. On me: The pale green scent gives way to an extremely faint, liquid citrine rim working its way around the dominant/top notes (one of which I suspect is the moonflower, another lily), which are rich, winy, sweet at the very tip of my tongue; reminds me of a gorgeous mead I bought in Indiana. Kindly Moon's florals ripple and drip into each other; for the most part, I can't distinguish individual notes, as they meld and shift so smoothly-- I'm just left with an over-arching impression of sweetness and gentility, a cool hand on the brow. There's almost no throw to this oil, and it evaporates quickly in the least amount of heat-- at the end of, say, an hour, I had to press my nose right up against my skin to catch a whiff of the scent-- but it lasts, and it's a keeper. C&P from ye olde LJ, slightly edited for boo-boos.

Acquired via swap. ...man, y'all. I'm such a rose whore. Just so you know, the first time I'd ever seen the description for PQ was yesterday, 2 September-- well after I'd written up my review. Here's what I wrote down: Mmmmmm... proud, haughty rose, with a sullen tang; showy, much like a male peacock's fan. This, to me, is rose as teenager- you can see the growth, but there are still flashes of untutored inelegance, the yearning for experience. I get more rose sachet/high-quality rose soap as this dries, as well as a hint of rose attar... the real thing, which is a bit difficult on the ol' sniffer. Strangely enough, this scent doesn't extend far beyond my idea of my personal space, and truthfully, why would it? This is not a rose for the hoi polloi. Very feminine, but she's a bit cold... and I don't entirely think her haughty demeanor is deserved. C&P from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited/expanded

I acquired an imp of this in a swap, and I can now enhance my review, knowing the description, because there was an edge to this that I just couldn't get... Rose addict that I am, I'm glad to have this. Freshly cut, dew-laden, ice-rimed ROSE, crushed leaves and stems, young, callow, hothouse bred, extremely green-- I can taste the astringency at the tip of my tongue, scrape it off the back of my teeth. The texture, strangely enough, is a bit chewy. This is freshest rose water; this was one of the Beast's roses, cut at such high price. As usual with my skin and the purer rose scents, fabulous throw; on me, this deepens as it dries and loses some of the raw living green quality, but none of its razor-sharpness. C&P from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited

I purchased two bottles. CT III: CMXLVII (974) I smell... something faintly mossy/lichen-like at the base; a creamy, near-vanilla note that I suspect is tonka, a lick of aldehyde, and freshly planed cedar... reminiscent of Tombstone minus the sassafras. Wet, this is strongly cedar-- I lose the earthy, mossy base, lose the creaminess, and have peppery, warm, summer-harvested cedar on my skin for the next ten hours. I occasionally catch the merest flash of the moss, but my skin is amping this cedar so much that nothing else can even get past it. While I enjoy the resonance of this at its fullest drydown, I can't wear it at all. Off to swap-land! CT III: CMLXXIX (979) Cool melons and strawberries, a harmonizing floral note I just know but cannot place to save my life. If forced to guess, I'd say, something from the orchid family. This is musky, fruity, slightly akin to lotus but nowhere near the bubblegumminess I usually get from traditional lotus-- this is young, sparkling, beaded with juice, and light. Richly pastel, a hue crossed between salmon and ripe canteloupe, full of the dreams of muskmelon fantasia-- at least, what I imagine muskmelon might smell like. I couldn't stop sniffing my wrist all night I tested this, because this is just, like, whoa, man.

The Graces, the Charities, the the Gratiæ: Goddesses of beauty, charm, celebration and merriment. They are the personification of all these aspects as found in both nature and mortal life. Daughters of Zeus and the oceanid Eurynome, they are Aphrodite’s attendants and work in harmony with the Muses as fountains of inspiration in the arts. In their aspect as fertility and nature deities, these Goddesses are associated with the Underworld and the Eleusinian Mysteries. Aglaea herself represents, from the Lab description: Splendour - Three golden ambers, bright musk, peach wine and myrtle. Acquired via swap. When I uncapped this, I smelled candied fruits, resembling Jolly Ranchers™; flowers with a rose edge, perhaps? I got a taste of their special astringency. My mind's eye conjures up a springtime flower arbor in full riot, I at the middle, delighted by overlapping circles of pleasant scents. Wet, a candy rush! Finest, handmade hard sweets and pastilles, like walking into an Old-World candy shop, everything carefully made as a labor of love. A rise of juicy peach, perhaps a tinge of apricot; no florals, but this waft is supported by gilt, and something else, even underneath the musk... all topped by a lightly heady vapor of wine, and outliers of a rich, living, growing leaf. I think I really like myrtle. As Aglaea dries down, I lose the 'candy' quality, and retain the fruit; I also get bright, warm skin-scent, and it's oh-so-nice. She doesn't last long-- Goddesses, of course, can't stay-- but her diminuendo is gorgeous. C&P from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited

Clear, yet plum-colored. Initially, there was a bit of chemical admixture to my nose, resembling unscented lotion... a sort of blended nonentity, as it were. As the drydown began, this gained richness and depth, resinous in affect, shading from lilac, traveling deeper. QM is mild, sweet, and dreamy... I suspect it shares a note or two with Tzadikim Nistarim, and I'm almost right-- osmanthus, or sweet osmanthus, is also known as sweet or tea olive, a member of Oleaceae-- and blends with the sandalwood, further bolstering this scent's depth. Night-blooming jasmine and black orchid make for a lovely mix-- I tried this at the same time as TN, and while they go surprisingly well together, enough so that I may try layering them in future-- its throw can't even compete. QM is subtle yet penetrating, queenly and mysterious, yet not so otherworldly that this couldn't be an every day scent. C&P from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited

Tzadikim Nistarim is the clarion scent of trumpets, ringing triumphant. I smell a balsamic sort of pine, freshly crushed; overall, a glowingly ripe, goldenly peach-colored scent, akin to fullest sunrise. Benevolent, encompassing jewels, spinning, light catching their polished facets, with the balsam-like scent more elevated than the resins (well melded and faint in the background, reminiscent of the same effect that the labdanum had in Magdalene.) So I put this on, already entranced by both the story and the scent, and got sucked into these lovely forums for a good, long while. I'm reading along, chuckling over rants about the films we all love to hate, when I smelled something ... really good. I flailed around a bit trying to find the source of the scent, and finally realized it was me. My goodness, this is delicious-- resonant, full, swirling at the very rear of the space where nasal passage and esophagus meet, with an odd yet fitting ring of near-citrus, a fantasy of holiness and world-enfolding compassion. CP from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited

As its description, short and sweet, so shall be my review: On me, Hawaiian Punch with shot of 7-Up, fizzy and effervescent. C&P from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006

My first aquatic. I had to pass this one under my nose several times and hold it there, as this scent is so light, to me. I smell sugared air and rain, cooled and condensed as liquid; sweet, mild color of sky as storm clouds gather, tinged electric bruise pastel. Good water free of pestilence, roiled by by heavenly agitation. On, there's practically no throw to this oil-- just a lovely, cooling skin smell, which feels good... and I suspect would be great on a hot day. There's the low crackle of sparking ozone, clean white brightness of aerial electricity, relief and smooth glassiness after the tempest has passed. This is a peaceful, airy scent. At its fullest drydown, the ozone went a bit too far into "hair-spray" territory, so this one isn't a keeper. CP from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006

A sort of lemony furniture polish in the imp, woods, perhaps a bit of fresh air and smoke... perhaps a little water as well? When I applied this, I had a quick flash-back to Neptune, reviewed elsewhere-- that waft remiscent of lemon peel, or verbena. This really opened up on my skin, becoming more spacious with elements I found to be musky, akin to fougere (that lavender, I guess), and plenty of those woods-- sun-warmed, elegant, close grained, polished with oils... no carnation at all though. Oh well. Saint-Germain, however, is too masculine for me to wear, even at my butch-faggiest, but I can see this being delicious on anyone with the right chemistry. CP from my LJ, dated 2 Sep 2006 and slightly edited

Mmmm, dim, blooming orchids, palest pink with blushing heart, nodding under a willow grove at twilight. There's a bench under the trees, perfectly situated so that, when one takes repose from one's garden stroll, the wind gently steers the scent around and about you. Wet, the scent opens up slightly and takes on a faint tinge of fresh green leaf, a hint of muskiness; a yawing pit opens underneath the tendrils. Mayhap the pit described as "falling in love", but more likely the pit of one's romantic doom. As the description states, this is a subdued scent, and as such, there isn't much throw. On drydown, a more traditionally perfume-y edge emerges... and while it's sweet, this is a little too much. This was another double-tested imp, and I noticed that first time, worn on a hot day, the sweet orchidaceous note stuck around longer, growing more and more faint as time elapsed; the second time, tested at home in cooler temperatures, the "perfume-y" drydown came to the fore, heavy on the shadowed, damp foliage. I'm not quite sure what I think of this. I'll keep the imp, and see what happens between us in future. CP from my LJ, dated 17 July 2006. I found that this particular orchid blend was just a touch too cloying... WOES, as I really do enjoy this scent. I might try it again in a few months, because I don't want to give up on this blend.

When I smelled this for the first time, I really, really wasn't sure if Sybaris and I were going to get along. I was worried about the tonka bean, as it's often used as a stand-in/helper for vanilla... and I'm beginning to think that Lab vanilla and I don't get along too well. Sweet clove? Eh... Hetairae had clove, and the result wasn't so great. Mediterranean incense? What goes into that? Argh. Then, there was the violet. Isn't violet for, um, well... old ladies?. So, this is what I got a whiff of: thick, furry, powdery incense, with something indefinable, straining to break free... a lithe, slipping breath of one pure note; creaminess of tonka, the faint, moderate spice of clove in flecks. On me the furriness is like a writhing pile of kittens-- here and there, a paw of clove, a wildly waving tail of tonka, the raspy cries and squeaks of incense, the fluff of powdery fur, tiny, needle-sharp claws... and then, that indefinable, slippery note becomes a pure line that BURSTS out... wow. Violet. Violet is not an old-lady scent on me. Oh no. Violet gathers up the kittens, smoothes their ruffles, calms their indignant little yowls, and cuddles them all in her lap, stroking them to peaceful, purring happiness. She wears a satin dressing gown of deepest, truest name-sake color that matches her eyes; her skin is flawless, pampered, silken soft. As this dries, I find I can't really describe how all of these elements morph into a harmonious whole, but they do... and at one point, all I'm left with is a bright cable of delicious, pure violet. Or so I think-- after a while, the spices come back, just as a complementary thread in the ply. A quite decadent sort of oil, clear in the imp; moderate throw. CP from my LJ, dated 17 July 2006

In the imp: An apple-juice hued oil, bright, harsh, acrid. I can, very faintly, smell a bit of pinpoint citrus... but what I mostly get is day-glo (optic) yellow industrial compound, with a fresh wrap-around of translucent lavender (color, as opposed to the note.) Wet: Oh. Industrial cleaning fluid with "lavender" and splinters. Dry: INDUSTRIAL CLEANSER OMG. I stuck it out for the day, but oh, I wanted to wash this one off. Oh, wait-- I did try to wash Clio off, and she wouldn't go. I gave Clio away to my historian friend post-haste. CP from my LJ, dated 17 July 2006 and slightly edited

This was tested twice, as it ran into the lotion problem (basically, an unscented lotion with a noticeable chemical aspect to it), a sticky inferno masquerading as a Texas summer day... and, it turned out, the beginning of sinusoid congestion fun. The first time around, I smelled something vaguely, indiscriminately fruity, a mid-range, diffuse cloud of edible particles that was killed by my lotion... didn't have a chance. Second time around: ah, delicious, sweet, rosy-green apple fragrance, almost that of a candied apple; this smell is expansive, airy, and wild-- think of taking a walk though an apple orchard, or a stand of wild apple trees. There's that quality to it, no doubt intensified because of the herbal addition. I can't tell what said herbs are, this is so skillfully blended. On my skin, herbs crisp up, leap forth like a spear, leaving the apple scent as a poor, ragged third cousin once removed. There's power here, a living green, a conscious worker of Rule against Chaos. An odd, muted bump?...perhaps the black amber. It's not quite supporting, not quite blending, just there; as this oil dries, though, the amber does a better job of harmonizing with the sweet apple, which makes its tentative return after the prior herbal smack-down. I'm put in mind of nothing so much as apple-scented shampoo, and in fact this would be a lovely scent to add to one's hair-care, as it's very light. Definitely a spring scent, but not for me. C&P from my LJ, dated 17 July 2006 and slightly edited

I thought instantly of Mary Magdalene upon seeing this imp. She is one of my favorite biblical women of all time, and I was glad to see she'd warranted a scent from the Lab-meisters. Thanks to Shadow Witch Orchid, I can tell the note-- oh, it blends well with white rose. Dusky sweet, youthfully sweet, plumply musky, voluptuously round, enfolding and encircling a nestled, yet generous orb of labdanum. I love me some resins, and labdanum (aka rockrose, or cistus) smells wonderful to me-- suppressed grief, greatly bitter, but yet bearing hope of future joy. To my nose, slightly thick, plum-colored, a tad velvety, yet moist-tasting as I roll it around the bowl of my tongue. We begin with that resinous orb, spreading liquidly, creating a base for the lightest, most gossamer folds of white rose to rise, billow, and catch themselves on delicate spikes of labdanum; the orchid floral is too heavy to join the dance, but its musk blends with the resinous pad underneath to create a dire, bitter, dolorous accord, close-held yet sleek as bengal kittens. At its end, the faintest thread of rose come forth. The romantic in me imagines this as the scent the women used to anoint Jesus after removing him from the crucifix at Golgotha, their sorrow dripping into the funerary attar. This is a very distinctive scent-- not common, not easy, but so very, very lovely. C&P from my LJ, dated 17 July 2006