doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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As many of you know, we recently moved the whole BPAL Carny Show to Philadelphia. It was a huge change for all of us in myriad ways, not the least of which was the adjustment of moving from a lifetime in a Mediterranean / semi-arid zone to a humid subtropical pocket of the mid-Atlantic. What is “weather”? What is “rain”? What is this white stuff falling on my head every winter? Wait, I have to salt the Earth? What does that mean? Like I said, it was a huge change for us Angelinos. Even though Pennsylvania is green and gorgeous, lawns aren’t the most ecologically-friendly option for your yard so when we moved here, we began the process of replacing our lawn with clover and wildflowers. Semi-meadowing, if you will. Last year, our neighborhood opp took issue with our garden design choices and reported our place to the city for being overgrown and neglected. This scent is for everyone that’s had to deal with That Guy in your neighborhood: a sinuous stream of Snake Oil slithering through meadow flowers and clover.
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The tiniest of dragons, these flirty, silly, and theatrical beasts build their nests in gilded opera boxes, toy stores, and above confectionaries and sweet shops. Their scales blaze like a handful of maraschino cherries and red currants bathed in fluorescent lighting, sparkling with sugar crystals and drizzled with vanilla liqueur.
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Rarely glimpsed except in reflections or the flicker of fading film, the Bastard-Amber Dragon drifts through time like a fever dream of Old Hollywood. Born of illusion and artifice, it casts everything in its path in a honeyed glow. Its scales shimmer like tawny celluloid: aldehyde klieg lights illuminate golden resins, husky with toasted brown sugar.
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Winnie the Pooh is among my very favorite books, and Eeyore is my favorite character from the series, so this was the Hundred Acre Wood scent to which I was most looking forward. I used to have a mug with Eeyore's good morning quote on it, too. I wish I still had it! I'm not familiar with the thistle note, but I, too, get lots of purple and grey from this scent, with the iris, lavender, and lilac swirling together to make that grey and purple floral bouquet, and the high-pitched iris and lilac being particularly loud on me (although this grey lilac seems to be tamer than some other varieties). The floral notes combine with the rain-soaked moss, which I believe may be the same note found in 2024's The Storm, to just exude melancholy -- but over time, the grey musk peeks out and smooths over the loud iris, lilac, and moss notes, so that it is less like having a cry and more like a deep sigh. I mean, you would be sighing the deepest of sighs, too, if you lost your tail, or your house made of sticks kept falling down. By the end of the day, I'm left a soft, clean scent of grey musk tinged with tea leaves, a few flower petals, and some raindrops on moss. Needless to say, this one is a keeper and a must-try of the Hundred Acre Wood collection. I haven't tried layering this with The Donkey's Tail yet, but I'll update this review once I try layering them together. I adore that scent even more with its lavender, vanilla, and fuzzy cotton notes and may just have to get a back-up of this for more of The Donkey's Tail. Petition for The Donkey's Tail to be released as a bottle in a future installment of the Hundred Acre Wood scent series!
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A handful of dates and black figs plopped into a frosted glass frothing with cranberry champagne.
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I like Rabbit's scent more than I thought I would! It starts off with a blast of lemony white tea, followed by some lemon verbena, and a smackerel honey. Then the oats and condensed milk emerge and eventually overtake the bright notes, making it more like a sweet, toasty oat scent. I am pleased to report that the vetiver seems to be missing in action on me, so if it's lurking beneath these notes, it is very well-behaved and not a strong, smoky variety. I think this would be perfect to wear during spring and am so glad it worked out (especially since the White Rabbit from the Mad Tea Party collection does not jive with my chemistry).
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Pomegranate Loukoumi and Champagne.
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Lines Written by a Bear of Very Little Brain
doomsday_disco replied to doomsday_disco's topic in Yules
When I first sniffed this, I thought this would mostly be a cardamom and amber scent (even though it had plenty of rest before that first sniff), but it's actually mostly about the milky musk (which isn't buttery whatsoever!) and snow notes on me, with some welcome cardamom, a bit of honeyed rice (which isn't super buttery like some rice notes can be on me), and a little amber in the background. Although the description says slushy snow, I swear I smelled Snow White's sweet snow note with the musk when I tested it for the third time yesterday. It definitely does not contain the berry-infused slushy snow of Skadi, the bright, maybe white tea-infused slushy snow note, the mentholic snow of Nuclear Winter, or the evergreen-infused snow of Snow Bunny. I wore this as my scent of the day on Friday last week, and I did a big slather. I felt like I got more of the cardamom that way, but this scent stayed close to the skin on me despite me slathering it along my forearms. I really enjoy this one and would wear this whenever there's a need for a comforting scent, in winter, when one is longing for the warmth of spring, or in early spring, while watching the last signs of winter fade away. -
This is, of course, the most honey-forward of the Hundred Acre Wood scents. The honey is the dominant note throughout wear, and it smells floral, pale, and thin instead of thick and gloopy to me. There's some effervescence from the mead to go along with it (and maybe there's a squeeze of orange in the mead?), which is most noticeable during the first few hours of wear, and some woodsmoke, which, fortunately, isn't overbearing, but does smell a little odd on me combined with the honey. I'm not really getting any amber from this (maybe because my skin is running away with the honey). I'm not sure how often I'll reach for this one, with its honey and smoke, but I'll be hanging onto the bottle regardless since I was gifted the whole collection. I think this would be best worn in late summer or early fall.
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I may have won the skin chemistry lottery with Edward Bear, but my skin chemistry is ruining Piglet's scent, which was one of the Hundred Acre Wood scents to which I was most looking forward. The red bean paste (Beth's red bean paste note is so good!), apple blossom, and caramelized almond notes are the most prominent notes on me, with that caramelized almond note being almond toffee-like, like almond brittle, so it is very warm on me with that note and the red bean paste, and then the apple blossom drifts through, which helps to lift the scent. But then it does something that some scents do on me, even when there's no similar notes, and I don't know what it is causing it -- but it starts smelling soup-y on me, like... it ends up being somewhat tomato soup-esque? This is something I have had happen to me with some scents even before COVID, so it's not my sniffer being broken -- it's truly my skin chemistry, as it's not like that at all in the bottle or during the wet phase of the scent. I asked for and was gifted the entire Hundred Acre Wood perfume oil set for Christmas, so I won't be parting ways with my bottle, even if my skin chemistry is being rude to me. Time to go the scent locket route to enjoy that lovely red bean paste note!
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I feel like I won the skin chemistry lottery on this one. Freshly applied, I get the blast of buttered toast, but then a deep amber shows up and steals the show. It's the dominant note throughout wear on me, backed by the fuzzy cotton stuffing note, which is not laundry-like on me at all or problematic like some fabric notes are (huzzah!), a bit of toffee-like honey, and the roasted vanilla. I only get a whiff of the butter and milk notes when I sniff up close. Drink Me is actually more buttery on me than this scent. I feel like this perfume perfectly encapsulates our favorite honey-seeking bear -- we have the gourmand elements, but then we have the amber and roasted vanilla adding more cozy warmth, and then the fuzzy cotton stuffing note to remind us that he's a stuffed animal, as Tom mentioned in the livesniff of these on YouTube. This will be perfect to wear on chilly days when you're staying inside and wanting to wear something warm and cozy (or even when it's not -- just honor Pooh by saying, "Tut tut, it looks like rain" and slather some on when you need some comfort ).
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Pomegranate and Black Pine.
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Pomegranate and Black Pine Room Spray
doomsday_disco replied to doomsday_disco's topic in Atmosphere
This one is predominantly about the pomegranate. The pine being most noticeable when the scent is first sprayed, but it never is as strong as the pom, forever confined to a background role as the pom asserts its dominance and somehow seems to increase in strength over time. I've sprayed this on my couch a few times, and did a few tests on a paper towel, and I had the same result: primarily pom and only a wee bit of pine. I like this and will hang onto the atmo, but it's not as strong on the holiday vibes as 2023's Pomegranate, Fir Needle, and Cypress Perfume Oil, which I enjoyed more. I just wish there were more pine! -
Alas my love you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously For I have loved you so long Delighting in your company. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight. Greensleeves was my heart of gold And who but my lady Greensleeves? Alas my love that you should own A heart of wanton vanity So I must laddie think alone Upon your insincerity. A sorrowful 16th-century love ballad reimagined as a yuletide hymn: heavy bolts of oakmoss-colored velvet, a heart of gold weeping sticky tears of balsam.
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The Lovebirds wanted to be spooky this year, and we didn’t have the heart to tell them that no one will be fooled. A frothy strawberry malted with papaya juice and black cherries, topped with marshmallow cream.
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Soothing, warm and quietly radiant: espresso kissed with honey, swirled into warm steamed milk, and crowned with a dusting of cinnamon.
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Pomegranate Candy Canes.
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Ladies, is it gay to have a skeletal system? Short answer: YES! Because the human wrist was undeniably made to flap and go “enh.” There are many theories about the historical origin of the so-called “limp wrist” gesture, which has bedeviled arbiters of masculine/feminine presentation since at least the ancient Roman times. So when we defiantly flop our phalanges, we’re reclaiming a time-honored tradition! And letting our skeletons do what they do most naturally: camp it up. Did you know the human wrist is made up of eight small bones, plus the forearm’s radius and ulna? Factor in the four small ones that comprise that lightly extended pinkie finger, and the number of bones required to execute this delicate maneuver add up to FOURTEEN. No wonder we’re always so tired. So defy nature if you truly must, but never forget: when bones are all that’s left of you, the wrists will be extra floppy. And we think that’s worth celebrating while you’re still alive! This scent debuted in 2023 as “Is He, You Know” but since this is commonly deployed as an equal-opportunity aphorism, we’ve created a campy companion scent: sweet 13-year aged patchouli, peru balsam, white oakmoss, spikenard, bourbon vanilla, sugar cane, and a sprig of lilac.
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A rich bourbon cream skin musk, formulated to announce and enhance whatever version of oneself is currently coming forth.
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A snowy, chilled pomegranate slurry.
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These are dark times indeed... so here's a gourmand for the brooding scholar. The warm, nutty richness of roasted macadamia folded into the dry papery musk of time-worn tomes bound in crackled leather; golden drips of beeswax candlelight flicker against polished teakwood shelves, while the smoky warmth of fireplace smoke lingers in the air. (Nutty portmanteau absolutely intended. Don’t @ us.)
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Hungry Ghost Moon: Hazelnut Spread and Mini Marshmallows
doomsday_disco posted a topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
Hazelnut Spread and Mini Marshmallows. -
If this year’s Lupercalia fragrance collection was a book, it would be printed in blood-red ink rolled across the soft, stubborn bodies of dream-pale flowers, and stamped onto heavy black paper. We’d pass it around before the letters had a chance to dry, staining fingers with the turn of every page, marking the curious as aspiring erotes, as fellow Lupercalians. The sanguine contents of this text were made to be devoured by the eyes, the skin, the heart, and then the story continued by its readers, passed along to others. (As ever, please do not consume the perfumes internally or apply them to sensitive body parts. Don’t make us regret deploying such a fragrant metaphor, we’re trusting you to hang onto at least that much cognition.)
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Cracked leather and faded ink, dust-heavy pages steeped in echoes of prayer. Beeswax candles gutter in the shadows, their pale, amber light feebly holding back the dark. Low murmurs of frankincense and oakmoss anchor the stern hush of eternity. Vincent Van Gogh
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48, Rue de Courcelles. Eighteenth January 1847 My Dear Mrs. F. I send you, on the other side, the tremendous document which will make you for ninety years (I hope) a beautiful Punchmaker in more senses as one. I shall be delighted to dine with you on Thursday. Mr Foster says amen. Commend me to your Lord, and believe me (with respectful compliments to Lord Chesterfield) always Mrs. F. Faithfully yours, Charles Dickens. To make three pints of Punch Peel into a very strong common basin (which may be broken, in case of accident, without damage to the owner’s peace or pocket) the rinds of three lemons, cut very thin, and with as little as possible of the white coating between the peel and the fruit, attached. Add a double-handfull of lump sugar (good measure), a pint of good old rum, and a large wine-glass full of brandy – if it not be a large claret glass, say two. Set this on fire, by filling a warm silver spoon with the spirit, lighting the contents at a wax taper, and pouring them gently in. Let it burn three or four minutes at least, stirring it from time to time. Then extinguish it by covering the flame. Then squeeze in the juice of the three lemons, and add a quart of boiling water. Stir the whole well, cover it up for five minutes, and stir again. At this crisis (having skimmed off the lemon pips with a spoon) you may taste. If not sweet enough, add sugar to your liking, but observe that it will be a little sweeter presently. Pour the whole into a jug, tie a leather or coarse cloth over the top, so as to exclude the air completely, and stand it in a hot oven ten minutes, or on a hot stove one quarter of an hour. Keep it until it comes to table in a warm place near the fire, but not too hot. If it be intended to stand three or four hours, take half the lemon-peel out, or it will acquire a bitter taste. The same punch allowed to cool by degrees, and then iced, is delicious. It requires less sugar when made for this purpose. If you wish to produce it bright, strain it into bottles through silk. These proportions and directions will, of course, apply to any quantity.