mountainwitch

I had to try this one for the literary reference. I nearly died when I opened the envelope and saw the bottle with its fine detail, too; I really wanted this to be a keeper! At first Montresor was all sharp and sweet, a fruity-boozy fragrance much like what Monster Bait: Closet turned into when it hit my skin. Montresor turned woodier and darker, however. I was starting to really enjoy it . . . Until it turned into a dead ringer for the cherry tobacco that my uncle used to smoke. The smell was powerful and rich, and I know some people might like that smell in itself, but the memories it triggered were just too powerful for me. (My uncle was a victim of a violent crime several years ago.) I did find a good home for Montresor with a friend for whom it was reminiscent of chocolate and cherries. Now, if I can just talk her into giving me the empty bottle . . .

Sleepy Moon was part of a very kind offer from a forum seller, and I was very excited to try this one out. Bamboo and poppy and chamomile . . . How cool, to try a lunacy blend that I totally missed the first go-around! Unfortunately, all those lovely notes turned into an incense cone on me--not an incensy blend, but an Asian-themed incense cone that I had the poor sense to start rubbing on my pulse points. Even the lavender, which usually pops out sharp and fresh on me, was lost in the dusty cloud. But as usual it smelled great on one of my swap partners, turning into an exotic, green, lovely fragrance she can wear even in the most professional setting. Sleepy Moon was fun to try, and it's found a loving home, but in the end I'm left a little green myself . . . With envy, of course!

Now this is just strange. I have here a scent with an enticing and lovely description, and the imp is a good match for the description on my skin, but I still don't consider this a keeper . . . What in the world is wrong with me?! While not very herbal on me, the description is otherwise dead-on. The imp smells very much like blackberries with something darker; it's a sweet but dark, almost earthy fragrance. If I had tried it a few weeks ago I might have just fallen in love. But no, I had to try Bewitched first, and the tea and musk in that scent gives me a brighter, more alluring fragrance. And since I have a nice big bottle of Bewitched on the way . . . Sorry, Baneberry, but I'm already seeing someone else.

A surprise frimp from someone who'd been checking out my wishlist! Roses, for me, are apparently hit-or-miss, but the roses in Whip were the full, luscious, damp red blooms promised. These roses are full-blown, old-fashioned, and fragrant, and they lasted for hours. I was just hoping for a little more leather. There's a hint of it, just a hint, under that floral extravaganza, but not quite enough to give it the balance I was looking for. This one's a little strong for me, but maybe I just need to use the "Whip" with a light hand.

I’ve never tried out a scent that turned into stale flowers and sweat on me before, but this one does. It morphs through several varieties of sweat-flowers-babypowder, but it never turns into anything I want to smell like. Long-lasting, and it does get better the longer I wear it . . . But Lord, it doesn’t start out good.

A friend who ordered a bunch of imps had this one picked out for me as a "floral person." Roses (are red) and violets (are blue):what could be more simple and straightforward than that? While I did catch the sweetness of rose briefly, for some reason this one turned into a bitter combination for me. I don't know if there's something else here that isn't listed, or if there are some rose blends used here that my chemistry just doesn't like. I suspect it's the latter, given that Lucy's Kiss and Wicked also turn strange and weirdly bitter when they hit my skin, and rose is the only thing that these three--which end up smelling strangely similar on me--have in common.

The first few minutes Maenad is all about the strawberries. Fresh, ripe strawberries . . . Just perfect! The other notes balance the brightness just enough, making it something enjoyable and complex. Unfortunately, it doesn't stay that way; after those first few giddy minutes, the scent changes on me, transforming into a dead ringer for strawberry Pez.

Sweet, dark, and rich--and definitely a little spicy. Even the look of this in the vial is perfect: a deep crimson, like polished garnets. While I've tried a lot of "cherry" scents, this is completely different from everything else in my collection. I'm hanging on to this one to spice up some cold autumn days . . . And maybe some cold autumn nights as well!

Woods and cherries! This is a nice one: bright, just a little sweet, happy. Not a lot of staying power, and not really a stand out for me . . . But it turns out that my boyfriend is apparently the king of wood and lavender blends. I had some reservations about trying this as a men's scent--specifically because of the cherry and rose notes--but on the right guy, this can turn into a fresh, masculine fragrance.

Seems that White Rabbit is a love-you or hate-you kind of scent. I don't know if he has me pegged as a cousin to Elmer Fudd or what, but this is one rabbit who definitely does not like me. Maybe I'd gotten too cocky: after all, there were so many great tea scents I'd found on BPAL. (Hey, Severin has made my buy-a-bottle list!) I can do tea; I figured I could wear White Rabbit. Apparently I can't do milk, however, and I think that must be key to enjoying this blend.

"Night-blooming flowers?" I know, even without asking, this probably means jasmine. And lately jasmine is one lady who's been giving me a beating: almost every blend with jasmine in it has been taken over by her rather boisterous presence. But still . . . Morgause! From the moment I saw the name, I knew I had to try it. And I'm very glad I did. For the first few minutes, Morgause was a luscious, jasmine-scented bouquet. I remember yes, I do actually like fragrances with a hint of jasmine--just not at the expense of everything else! Then Morgause softens, becoming something pleasant, mysterious, and enticing. And it lingers just like that, faint and undeniably pretty, for hours afterward. What a wonderful surprise.

Bewitched marks a lot of firsts for me: first scent I picked for my very first order and the first one I tried out of the box. Fortunately . . . While I was kind of stumbling around in the dark there, having never even smelled BPAL fragrances before, this one sealed the deal. The berries were perfect--realistic, and not too sweet. The fragrance was a little dark, a little woodsy, and I discovered that I loved the scent of green tea added to a blend. Now, with a jewelry box stuffed with imps and bottles, this one remains a favorite, and not just for sentimental reasons. Bewitched still strikes me as balanced, a little mysterious, and unlike any of the traditional perfumes I'd ever tried before.

At first this is all powerful, powerful pine. There's also a lovely golden amber-like note (the ambergris, I'm assuming), and the juniper and cypress are pleasantly woodsy. I like this one; it’s cool and woodsy, and it (can't describe this without pun!) just grows on me.

Not your average floral blend! As a latecomer to the lab, I'm very happy that I could swap for this one, and I only wish that Beatrice would visit "Rappacini's Garden" again sometime. This is rich and complex, but not too heavy: an intoxicating, romantic blend with a little darkness around the edges. Lasts for hours on me--and remains utterly lovely the whole time.

So this is what all the fuss is about . . . I don't think I would ever have tried this, if bloodlotus1 hadn't kindly included a decant with a purchase I made a while back. Linen? Perfume? Eh . . . How exciting could it be? What a surprise. I was expecting something purely floral with a bit of air freshener or dryer sheets. Instead this is a warm, rich vanilla scent at first--almost like a creamy caramel. For a few moments the scent is almost edible--but not quite--until the linen smell comes out, giving it a hint of that strange clean-summer smell of line-dried laundry. NOT dryer sheets, not air freshner, but a scent that I honestly thought could not ever be replicated in a bottle. The scent that results is one that I feel as if I could literally wear almost anywhere: dates, work, meetings, church, you name it. And the scent lasts, too . . . it still lingers, just as fresh as when I put it on, almost twelve hours later.

In a word: scrumptious. Lucious and complex, completely unexpected and warmly familiar all at the same time. This doesn’t strike me as a summer scent, but something to brighten up rainy gray days in autumn or winter--the scent equivalent of warm cookies and good surprises.

The description of this one was one of the things that lured me to BPAL in the first place. It was part of my first order, way back in April, and one of the very first scents I tried. Blackberries--I love blackberries! And buttercream! And cake! Didn't work out quite that way in practice, however. After reading some of the forum reviews, I developed a theory that there may be three types of people in the world: the people for whom this scent turns into blackberries and booze, the people who end up smelling like cake, and those who seem to be able to pull off all the notes beautifully. Unfortunately, I fall into the first category, which leaves me smelling like I've gone on a bender with blackberry schnapps.

Honey and more honey--I think I'm in love with the smell of honey mead! At first there was a strangely sweet, sharp note, but it mellowed out almost immediately. This is a perfect, warm-summer fragrance, and I'm very glad I gave into the last-minute temptation to order it.

This is one of those scents I had to try, just based on the enchanting description. Sniffing the bottle, I was in love . . . Until it hit my skin. First there was caramel, rich and sticky, followed by salt. Salty caramel. And then salty burning caramel. Apparently there was a hard lesson I had to learn here: caramel, on me, turns acrid and bitter as burning sugar.

The forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power. A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs. I was hoping for moss--I usually like moss--and the incense, herbs, and all of the other dark and mysterious things a Crossroads would promise. I get . . . Jasmine. A darker-edged jasmine than the other two blends I've tried recently (Nyx and Twilight) but certainly similar enough. OK, skin, I get it . . . You like jasmine, and if jasmine comes over to play, no matter who else is in the party, you're going to spend ALL your time with her.

A rich, bold blend of imperial rose, carnation, lush jasmine, lily of the valley, dark musk, amber, bergamot and gilded tangerine. Exotic. A little spicy, a little floral, a sparkle of citrus--but not too overwhelming on any of the three. Even the jasmine is barely a whisper for me, and the tangerine shines through more with more sparkle than I was expecting. My only complaint is that it doesn't have a lot of staying power on me; all this loveliness ebbs away in just minutes, even after a luxurious slathering.

The lavender and honeysuckle distinguish this a bit from Nyx, both of which I could describe as "jasmine-in-the-summer-evening" scents. For me, something here in Twilight starts out with an almost bitter, musty note--very similar to whatever ruined Goneril and Wicked for me. I don't know what this note is, or why I find it lurking in my usually-friendly florals, but it doesn't like me. This time the note disappears quickly, but eventually everything else is overwhelmed by the same strong, sweet jasmine that I find in Nyx. It's very pretty, but I just don't need another pretty jasmine floral.

Rose and mosses--two of my favorite scents together! Unfortunately, my chemistry did not give me mosses. It gave me a little rose dusted over dirt. Not a warm earthy smell, just DIRT. This is all me, however. Apparently I just can't do "deep brown earth." I passed this one on, and Zombi turned out to be beautiful beyond description on two of my usual swapping partners. And on the right guy, this suddenly turns into an attractive, masculine, swoon-worthy scent. This may not be mentioned in the "Men's Fragrance Recommendations" on the BPAL site, but after smelling this one on a couple of guys, I am a firm believer that it should be.

A slightly-spicy floral, warm but edged in darkness. Florals generally work for me, although sometimes I just get tired of them; Sheol is different--a warm, complex, seductive scent. This one's a new and immediate favorite.

At first Ulalume goes on sharp and medicinal. On me, this stage lasts about 10 minutes . . . And then it's like a veil has lifted, leaving behind a complex, woodsy scent. This fragrance is not at all like Black Forest, which has a straightforward pine scent that shouts, "Look, Ma--TREES!" This is a strange gray wood, full of promise and mystery, and the scent itself makes me want to create something.