doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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Black Butterfly Moon: Vanilla and Tobacco Flower
doomsday_disco posted a topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
Vanilla and Tobacco Flower. -
Ancient, fossilized amber resins, ritual incense, witching herbs, and scorched linen enveloped in a darkly glowing halo of cinders and smoke.
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For the spooky kids down the shurr.
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A luminous cold flame: chilled bergamot, Ceylon cinnamon, white clove bud, amber, and incense smoke. Between these passionate moments there were long intervals of commonplace, of gaiety, of brooding melancholy, during which, except that I detected her eyes so full of melancholy fire, following me, at times I might have been as nothing to her.
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Every leaf tells a story.
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In the bottle and freshly applied to my skin, I swear this smells just like a bowl of Cap'n Crunch Berries Cereal? đź‘€ This is not a bad thing. I wonder if it is the malted aspect of the milk with the berry notes giving me that Cap'n Crunch vibe? Then the cherry pops up, and it's glorious, but fleeting, leaving behind mostly a strawberry milk scent with like... a spoonful of Cap'n Crunch instead of a bowl of it. After a few hours of wear, the scent is pretty faint, but I think I smell some papaya behind the strawberry milk, because I briefly smelled something that reminded me of the Papaya, Passionfruit and Candyfloss b-side. I'll be keeping my decant (in the original bottle -- woot!), and I'll spend more time with it to see if I need more of it. I really enjoy the unexpected Cap'n Crunch... I just wish this lasted longer. But maybe once I wear this for my scent of the day and slather it all over, it will have much better staying power. I should also mention that Fairy Lobster Foam was a funky dairy disaster on me, but this one, fortunately, is not!
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Green Lovebat starts off with the green apple and peppermint in full force. After a while, the green apple loses its sugared aspect and becomes more tart, and the green currants emerge, making the scent even more tart. The peppermint is quick to calm down, and the milk emerges; it's definitely a dairy milk note, but it isn't super buttery (and it is a very accurate milk note). By the end of the day, this is a milky green apple and currant scent with just a hint of coolness left behind from the mint. Green Lovebird is my preferred Lovebird, but oddly enough, Pink Lovebat is actually my preferred Lovebat! If you're looking for a milky green apple, though, this one is for you!
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Tartly sweet, brusquely pavement-kissed, zesty with fermentation, dusted with leaf-litter, and relished by opportunistic squirrels craving a tipple.
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Sidewalk Apples starts off with a blast of tart (but not green!) apple and a whoosh of dead leaves on some pavement. I wouldn't let the fermented aspect of the scent scare you away, as I believe that is just highlighting the intense apple at first -- there's no whiff of decay! At one point, I couldn't help but wondering if there were some motor oil or something akin to the Lab's ink note on the pavement, as it veered into a more industrial phase, before settling into what I would describe as Dead Leaves and Cement Atmo plus apple. Dead leaves and I don't really get along, so this isn't a bottle for me, but if you and dead leaves get along and you're looking for a more atmospheric apple-y scent, give this one a try!
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Saying “bone apple teeth” instead of “bon appétit” seems to take on a special meaning in the context of Halloween treats. Here’s a scent commemorating the allure of everything our dentist would have us avoid: a luscious red apple rendered nigh impenetrable by armored plates of toffee and caramel, sprinkled with bone-dry cinnamon-glazed almonds and hard bits of popcorn.
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The red apple is the star of the show on me throughout wear. I say sweet because there's no tartness, not because of the caramel or toffee -- because neither of those notes are distinct on me (there's a candied aspect, but I'm not getting any buttery caramel or toffee), and the same goes for the cinnamon and almond, shockingly. I do get the popcorn by the end of the day, where it manages to cozy up to the apple note, but by that point, the scent is pretty faint. This comparison will probably help maybe only a handful of people, but it reminds me of the jar of scoopable County Fair wax I have from Zeep Bath (which closed this year). That one also reads mostly a sweet red apple to me, although it is said to contain funnel cakes, handmade caramel apples, and kettle corn. I'd recommend this to someone who wants a pretty straightforward, non-spiced, sweet red apple scent.
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Incandescent, glittering musks, pearls of sweet Florentine iris, and an indigo sigh of blue cypress, Italian bergamot, pink jasmine, cistus, white amber, mimosa, and black lilies.
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A glass of midnight stout, thick with black chocolate and roasted barley, its foam kissed with bitter espresso. A pale disc of buttered shortbread rests against the rim, crumbling into the inky depths. A strange eclipse of comfort and shadow: warm, crumbly biscuit and golden butter swallowed by a swirl of dark malt, molasses, and cocoa.
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A 99-cent drugstore eyeliner freshly melted with a Bic lighter, in concert with the leathery metallic gleam of a well-loved pyramid spike bracelet.
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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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No shoes, no skin, no problem! Scorched sandalwood and polished bone shards spattered with tattoo ink.
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Does this look like it healed funny? Globs of vanilla cream splattered with a honk of electric cherry, red currant, and a spatter of ink.
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I've tested this three times on myself, and once on my partner. The first time I tested this was the best time I tested this. Here's the review I shared with another member of the forum: "Bright red cherry that's more like the cherry on the outside of a tootsie pop, similar to the cherry in Lilith Poundcake, but amped up, with some tartness from the red currant, a little bit of industrialness from the ink, and some creamy vanilla. The ink is really subtle in this, though!" However, the next two times I tested this, the cherry was quickly overtaken by the currant note. So bright cherry, quickly overtaken by the tart currant, and that just lasts and lasts with only a smudge of ink and hardly any vanilla cream anymore. This is also how it smelled on my partner, who said, "I'm not getting a lot of cherry from this" after I slathered it on them. But maybe we're just both amping the currant? It's still good, but I'm a little sad that it has gotten less cherry and vanilla forward as it has had some time to settle. I'll be hanging onto my bottle to see how this ages, but I really wish the cherry would stick around.
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The moment when the vivid pigments of autumn recede and the forest exhales into browns and golds. It’s the taste of bark, the scent of soil, the quiet dignity of endings. The tannins remain when all else drains away, leaving a leathery resilience; the echo of structure, the memory of what once was green. It is autumn’s afterimage: subdued, steadfast, and softly beautiful in its restraint. Brown jelly with yellow and green micro shimmer.
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The art of surrender, the moment when green life releases its hold and transforms into fire. It’s the graceful unraveling of chlorophyll, revealing the hidden pigments that have waited all year beneath the surface. Each leaf becomes a brief flare of gold, crimson, or bronze — a final, luminous exultation before the fall. Antiqued brass red jelly with a golden-yellow and green shift.
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Sweet and strange, like a love letter scribbled at midnight. Soft pink jelly with an iridescent shift, semi-sheer.
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The fading of color under relentless sunlight, obliterating pigments until the leaf is nearly luminous, pale, and ethereal. It’s the quiet surrender of golds and reds to light itself, a whisper of brilliance that lingers in ghostly reflection. Like frost catching the last sunbeam, photobleaching turns vibrance into serenity, leaving the leaf luminous in its delicate, waning glow. Light consuming what it once created: a translucent pearl white with a glowing blue shift that can be painted on its own or used as a topper.
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Mellow, honeyed light that lingers after chlorophyll’s retreat. It paints the leaves in shades of corn silk and marigold, a gentle radiance that doesn’t blaze but glows from within. Lutein is the warmth that softens the edges of decay, the quiet joy that remains when all else fades. Sparkling sunny yellow.
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The dimming of autumn’s lantern: sunlight softening as it filters through thinning canopies, scattering into bronze and rust. The leaves catch what light remains, turning it to fire before letting it fade, the blaze surrendering to shadow. Shimmering rust with the shifting shades of dropping leaves.
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Witchlight in a bottle: crisp orchard green charged with supernatural glow. Spooky apple green with brilliantly eerie orange shimmer.