doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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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.
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The crunch of leaves beneath your feet: an autumnal jelly packed with glittering, falling flecks. The forest floor caught in mid-rustle.
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A sudden, passionate flare before the frost. It floods the veins of the dying leaf with crimson and wine, a defiant burst of color born from stress and sunlight. Where carotene glows warm and steady, cyanidin burns — fierce, fleeting, and emotional. It is the leaf’s last heartbeat made visible, a brief rebellion against the coming cold. Umber oxblood duochrome.
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The green blood of life itself, coursing through every vein with the vibrant glee of sunlight turned to sugar. As it breaks down, the forest exhales its last green sigh, and the world begins to dream in gold. The forest’s heartbeat, pulsing beneath decay — a vivid, vegetal gleam: deep olive jelly with orange and green spark.
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A semi-translucent orange jelly shimmer, gleaming with hope. Sunlight stored in secret through the long green months. When the chlorophyll fades, carotene rises like memory, painting the trees in gold and amber. It’s the whisper of summer lingering in every flame-colored edge, the warmth that endures even as the world cools. A quiet glow that says: even in decay, there is light.
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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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These are not soluble in lemonade, as clarified in The Awdrey-Gore Legacy. They are, however, most likely toxic. Pale crystals poured from a chipped glass jar, emitting a brittle whiff of bitter almond and cinnabar, swirling, undissolved, into sugar-clotted lemonade.
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I've tested this a few times, and I get a salty, mineralic lemonade from this, accompanied by some sweet almond and something silvery that's not a metal note (at one point, I thought I had this pinpointed, but I've since forgotten as I'm typing this review, so I guess I'll have to test it again to try to identify whatever that silvery note is). Of the three scents released in the second batch of Gorey scents, I enjoyed this one the most. It's not in the same league as La Dame Aux Pamplemousses, though! I'll be keeping my decant, and I'll have to see how much I reach for it to see if I need a bottle.
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Pumpkin Root Beer Float really does smell like a creamy root beer float -- emphasis on the root beer float, but the pumpkin is also present, adding a bit more warmth and some mild pumpkin spice to this creamy root beer scent. This is a more accurate root beer float scent than Astrid's Root Beer Float, which smelled more like root beer barrel candies on my skin than the actual thing. I've worn this three times; it has decent throw and longevity on me, and the ice cream note makes the scent really nice and creamy by the end of the day. I have a lot of root beer/sassafras scents, but I may end up needing a back-up bottle of this one. I enjoy it way more than Pumpkin Tombstone, and I can see it getting a lot of wear during late summer/early fall while waiting for Halloween. And now I've got to wear this as a scent of the day and make a pumpkin root beer float just to see how one would actually taste!
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Violets and wild lavender, tender and crushed with longing, spun sugar dissolving into memory, a fleeting exhale of soft musk, and a trace of myrrh.
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Violets and I generally do not get along, but I gave this one a chance due to all of the other notes, and because the violet and vanilla chiffon duet from last year ended up being a win on me. I get more violet than lavender from this, although the violet here is much more gentle than most violet is on my skin. I've tested this three times, and all three times, the violet was the star of the show on me. However, the first time I tried this, it was more like if you took Lush's Twilight and made it with more violet than lavender (although that's making this sound way more lavender-forward than this scent really is), with a soft myrrh and musk in place of any tonka. But the second and third time I tried this, I was like, "Violet and honeydew?" And now that I've thought that, it's what I smell whenever I sniff this scent. I believe it's the spun sugar note that is giving off that honeydew quality, because I've experienced that in some of Astrid's scents containing a spun sugar note. It does help lend a sort of ethereal vibe to this scent, but I enjoyed this the most the first time I tested it, when the other notes got to play a bigger role. I think this is very pretty and will have to spend more time with my decant to see if I need more of it. That said, I'm very happy that I decided to give this a chance despite my tendency to avoid scents with violet notes!
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the butterfly having disappeared my spirit came back to me — Wafū, trans. R. H. Blyth Wings unfolding in darkness, an echo of silence, the softest flutter, and then gone. Shadow-dappled tuberose and black orchid, buffeted by crumpled violet leaves and ink-dipped tea roses. A glint of obsidian musk slinks beneath, woven with scorched vanilla resin, dusty myrrh, and the faintest touch of crushed blackberry skin.
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There’s still a little time to kill before the viewing… surely it wouldn’t hurt to stop for a short stack? Black coffee, syrup-drenched buckwheat cakes, and a crusty cruller for the road.
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From Edward Gorey’s Scènes de Ballet. A glimmer of white tulle in a thicket of ink-black pines, graceful as a half-spied pirouette between a silhouette of clawed branches. The hush of forest moss under satin slippers, a wisp of candle smoke, the flick of a wrist as pale as lilies beckoning through thick myrrh shadows.
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I grabbed a decant of this because I've made an effort to try all of the Gorey scents thus far, and the pine and candle smoke notes appealed to me. La Sylphe de Forêt Noire isn't strong on the pine, though. I actually get a lot of lily, satin, and myrrh from this, with some pine and moss lingering in the background during the first few hours of wear. I think the satin note may be reminding me of the something in Black Silk, but I no longer have that blend and haven't smelled it in ages, so I can't test it and know for sure. The lily in this is a sweet variety -- I believe it's the same lily note that was used in Je Suis Toujours la Grande Isis, which also featured a myrrh note. When the pine note fades away, the candle smoke makes itself more known, and the combination of the fabric note, the lily, and the sweet beeswax candle smoke is somehow reminding me of House of Mirrors Atmo from Denver Comic Con in 2015 -- like, not an exact match, but I feel like it could be a cousin to that scent. Although it's not the pine-centric blend I was hoping for, I would have enjoyed this scent more if it were like its end result from the beginning -- with more of that candle smoke to help tame that lily and fabric. As it is, this isn't something I need more of, but if you're a fan of lily, you should definitely give this a whirl.
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Like the atmo, this starts off with a blast of moss-tinged mud, but the mossy mud lasts longer on the skin than it does in atmo form. When the mossy mud does calm down, the musky Snake Oil is the strongest aspect of the scent on me -- again, like the atmo -- but I, too, get more Dorian on me than I do from the atmo, especially once this has been on the skin for several hours, and it ends up being a main player. It's the musk and vanilla of both Snake Oil and Dorian that I get the most from both of those scents, and I'm pleased to report that this has some great staying power, still going strong on me the next morning after I tested it one evening. Hiss and Hearse is a top tier Snake Oil and Dorian hybrid scent. It may possibly be the best hybrid of the two since No DNA Test Required from the 2018 Lilith collection. If you're a fan of Snake Oil and Dorian, you will enjoy this, unless you dislike dirt. I enjoy all of the components of this scent, so I'm very happy to have a bottle in my collection -- and I may have to scoop up another before it goes away.
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Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.” And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. The warmth of shared meals, the pleasure of shared laughter, and the hidden language of sweet, comfortable silences: warm bread, roasted chestnut, oakwood smoke, sparkling bergamot, lentisk resin, and honeyed labdanum.
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This isn't a bread scent like Unsubtle Euphanism, Lavender Rosemary Baguette, Olisbokollike, or Loaf -- at least, not on me. On me, this is all about the roasted chestnut (which smells like an actual roasted chestnut and not the sort of chestnut you might find in a dessert) and the oakwood smoke, with touches of the bergamot and the honeyed part of the labdanum. It's warm, nutty, and smoky, but the bergamot helps to lift the scent a little, and the honey adds a bit of welcome sweetness. The smoke in this isn't acrid at all and ends up being the dominant note on me after several hours of wear -- and it's probably one of the best smoke notes I've encountered from the Lab. I don't think I need a whole bottle of this, but if you're looking for a smoky roasted chestnut scent, this one should be up your alley!