jj_j

This is the soft, not-really-powdery, but barely sweet note that's so elusive and beautiful in Tamora, and O, I think.

It doesn't smell like the heliotrope that grew outside my best friend's back porch, but I could be remembering it wrong, as it's been several years. Regardless, I say ...

Mmmm! Full bottle needed, ASAP.

When I decided to slather Jabberwocky on this morning, before ever even testing it, I kind of resigned myself to smelling like really good pine-scented cleaning products. I just wanted to wear this one ...

This is sooo good! Buoyant is such a good word for it, because within a few minutes I could smell the eucalyptus shining through, and the citrus notes of the orange made this just juicy and sparkling.

I smell like absolute clean, fresh branches and orange peel. It's fabulous, and as soon as I get home, I'm pouring part of this into the fountain and putting it on a cotton ball into the vacuum cleaner to help with spring cleaning.

It's not masculine, and it's not overpowering, and I don't smell like pine-sol. I didn't really need my 16 oz. Americano that's part of my morning ritual; my eyelids were still a little heavy, but my mind was racing and I was ready to go.

Brilliant, and totally different.

I guess have a knack for making interesting titles. Now I feel so embarassed. 

Nah ... don't be. We're all having fun, and you got a quick response to your question.

It all works out.

I read the post topic as

 

"Has anyone ever gotten head?"

 

i swear that's what it was on the front page!!

And so the two of you jumped right in!

I'm not commenting on my own quick response to the topic.

Not so much from the blends themselves; there are a handful of notes that cause a headache for me, no matter what they're in, though.

I've learned to identify and avoid those notes (although sometimes a scent is soooo tempting I try it anyway, and sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised by how little of the "problem" note there is), and thus don't usually have a problem with the scent-induced headache.

The green, flowing, aquatic herbal note in several of the Voodoo blends.

One of my favorites, but easy to get carried away with. Just as robust in single note form as it is in the blends.

Sweet, candied fruit.

Not a true pomegranate, but I have no idea how anyone would duplicate that tart, ruby-red casing around the seeds. Works well in scent blends, even if it's not what you smell when you cut open the fruit.

Sweet, clean and vaguely guest-soapy. Faint cherry tones, but mostly a light, white floral.

Lightly powdery and green, this is clean and fresh.

I think this note is in Tears and Zombi.

Daffodil smells like a lighter, softer version of Dandelion to me. Sweet, and definitely springtime in a bottle - but not the crisp, slightly green and bitter scent of the daffodils that the Cancer Society just delivered to our office a couple of weeks ago.

Lovely and bright, but not as true as many of the single notes have been.

This freesia scent may be the almost tropical, fruity note that some forumites have had a hard time identifying. It's definitely familiar without being common, and for me dries down to a very "pebbly pear in pineapple and other tropical fruit juices" sort of scent.

Beautiful, and nothing like the Bath and Body Works version, which may be the only concept many of us have of freesia. My mother thinks it smells like floral fruit loops, just for a different take on this one.

This is the light, inoffensive, barely-soapy white floral that I've been sniffing in several of the latest blends. It's jasmine without being overpoweringly so, and sweeter to my nose. Very tropical.

No headache-inducing properties, either.

EDIT: It's Pikaki on the site, so I changed the topic title (from Pikake) so it's easily findable. --Shollin

If you've ever been in an orchard in springtime, you'll know that this really is what an apple blossom smells like. Nearly perfect duplicate.

I say nearly perfect, because it's much stronger than any apple blossom I've been around. I always have to bury my nose in the petals to get the fleeting scent, and that's certainly not needed with this single note. I have no qualms about being able to smell something so luscious, though.

Oh, my god, yes! This is coffee, all right. Bitter, with just a hint of sweetness - like really good, really expensive coffee that's just been ground on the espresso setting.

Wow! I don't actually want to go around smelling like a coffee bean, but ... well, I may need to reconsider that statement. Really, really good; I want to lick myself just being in the same room with this.

Sweetly herbal, this lacks the dustiness of the dried chamomile I have stashed away in my shelf of teas, which means it's totally true to the scent of chamomile.

This version is much sweeter, and much more pleasant, than other chamomile oils I've smelled; I'm assuming it has something to do with the roman variety of the plant.

I really do like this - it dries down so soft and sweet that I'm strongly considering a bottle for everyday wear. It's light and yet substantial - never overpowering - and really glows sweetly gold-green.

Sharp, cleansing pennyroyal - this is the real thing! It's absolutely biting and clears my sinuses, head, and the room before eventually mellowing to a moderately minty and vaguely medicinal scent.

I actually like this one, but it's for use in small doses, and you should avoid this like the plague if you're pregnant. It gives my mother headaches, and is sharp enough that some may not want to try this if they're sensitive to scents, too.

I double-checked myself online, and calamus is one of the herbs that was used in Old Testament incense recipes.

It starts out a little sweet, and very green, and mellows to a powerful, spicy scent that seems masculine in nature. It ends up rather clove-like, which killed any appeal it had for me.

My heritage is Czech, so I know a good kolache when I see one ... and poppy seed is one of my favorites.

Black poppy has just the faintest hint of the dried seeds - it's a dry, not sweet, scent unto itself. This is definitely a floral, but it's a soft, wistful, and dry floral, not a sweet or ... go ahead and laugh at me ... flowery one.

Dry spice - I think this could well be one of the notes in Xiuhtecuhtli.

Pluck a green fuzzy leaf from the tomato plant on your patio this summer, rub it between your fingers, and smell what I'm reveling in at the moment.

Perfect, and this from someone who spent all of their childhood tending a 1/2 acre garden, complete with tomato plants each year, and who stakes one in a pot for the patio each summer still.

I understand that Brazilian rosewood, which is almost extinct, really smelled just like fresh roses when it was cut. This is more like the Indian rosewood that I've been able to smell - roses, but more resinous and woody.

Rich, with a definite grain, plus sap - melded with a very true (but more muted than in some of the blends) full-blown rose.

I don't know that juniper berry is what I thought it was. I really thought it was that not-fruity berry in things like Bewitched, but this is sharp, almost biting, and definitely sap-like. It smells like berries off hedges on campus or in a park.

Mind you, this is still good. It's forest trail, without a question. Crisp, a tiny bit green, although mostly bright red berries.

I'm going to have to re-visit some of my reviews and figure out what the note is that I thought was juniper berry.

It's light, it's fresh ... it's ... pickled?!?!!

How odd! This is pale, pale green, like iceberg lettuce. Its fresh, even wet. Very cool and crisp.

It's also funky. Perfumey and - I can't believe it - oddly sour, to the point it has a vinegary tone. Not necessarily unpleasant, just odd, after all the fantastically true single notes I've been testing. My bizarre chemistry may also be the cause, as I had my best friend try it, and she swears she's out in her garden, picking leaf lettuce, when she smells it.

I did an actual comparison test, as the 80-year old lilac bush outside my door is just beginning to bloom.

I cannot tell the difference.

This is dead-on, and fabulous. I'll be ordering a bottle for my mother this evening, as she is a professed lilac junkie and always complains lilac scents don't smell like the real thing.

Updated: I took the Imp out to my mother so she could try it, and it was actually pretty funny, because I'd just received the "True Lilac" from MMU that I'd ordered for her lilac passion.

We dabbed that one on first, and she sniffed, sat back in her chair and sighed, telling me how good it was. I waited a couple of minutes, and told her I wanted her to try another scent, then dabbed Beth's lilac on her other wrist.

My mother sniffed it, looked at me with wide eyes, and said, "This is the scent of lilacs!" Then she wrinkled her nose, looked down at the other wrist with contempt, and said, "That's just perfume."

Ooh, ooh! Found one of the mystery notes that's been driving me to distraction!

I don't see hyssop listed in any scents other than Absinthe, but my nose tells me it's the softer, less-sweet violet-like herbal note in some scents. For me, it's a cross between Florentine Iris and Violet, for lack of a better description.

The internet tells me ... "The name hyssop comes from the Greek. The Hyssop of Dioscorides was named after AZOB (a holy herb). Hyssopus officianalis has an ancient medical reputation. It was used for purifying sacred places. Hyssop plants were cut and scattered upon the floors of rooms, allowing the aromatic compounds produced by the plant to diffuse into the air, thus "purifying" the room or building. Also, in the scriptures (Psalms 51 v 7) we are told 'purge me with Hyssop and I shall be clean'."

My grandmother has a set of serrated spoons that she used to section up grapefruit for me as a kid, and over the years, the wooden handles have become imbued with the scent of tart pink grapefruit.

That's exactly what this is - tart pink grapefruit, clear and true, with a heavy heaping of sugar on top to sweeten it up.

I love that the single notes Beth uses are so true - they're fantastic in blends, and on their own.