doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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“O come and go with me, no longer delay, Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.” — “O father! O father! now, now keep your hold, The Erl-King has seized me — his grasp is so cold!” The spell breaks like a sudden crack in an ice-bound lake. Opoponax incense and black oud plunging into a heart-stopping shiver of ambergris accord and eucalyptus leaf.
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The inky bite of black coffee rising in gusts of steam, softened by the warm-gold glow of buttered crust and sugared apples.
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Every leaf tells a story.
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Tangy cream cheese folded through warm bakery dough, still puffed from the fryer, and thick, dark wild blackberry jam.
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A molten heart of slow-cooked milk caramel swirled with vanilla bean and a faint whisper of toasted coconut.
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Strawberry preserves twisting through clouds of pink cotton candy and marshmallow fluff.
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Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of the Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up. “That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains Everything. No Wonder.” Doubles as a bell-pull: a beribboned strip of French lavender, bourbon vanilla, silver thistle, grey musk, pink silk, and well-loved grey cotton.
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“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh. “Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.” “Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose. “Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.” “Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?” “Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.” Every solid friend group has at least one goth kid representing. Soft grey musk, pink thistle, lavender ash, tea leaves, pale iris, grey lilac, and rain-soaked moss. Each purchase of Gloomily, Gloomily comes with a 1/32 oz imp of The Donkey’s Tail. The Donkey’s Tail is not available for sale on its own, and make sure you keep it safe as you never know where it might end up.
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Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn’t. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh. When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, “But I thought he was a boy?” “So did I,” said Christopher Robin. “Then you can’t call him Winnie?” “I don’t.” “But you said——” “He’s Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don’t you know what ‘ther’ means?” “Ah, yes, now I do,” I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get. Honey-slathered buttered toast, glittering amber beams of sunlight, warm milk, cotton stuffing, and cuddly roasted vanilla.
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“O, father, my father, and did you not hear The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?” — “Be still, my heart’s darling — my child, be at ease; It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.” A desperate attempt at comfort and assurances of safety. Honeyed oats, toasted clove, hazelnuts, hay, and skin-warmed wool.
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Amber & Grey Musk.
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Laufeyson is unexpectedly effervescent. At first, I thought maybe it was a ginger note and the fizz was ginger ale-esque, but there's no ginger here. I suppose it could be the bergamot, but it's never done that in any other blend I've tried before. Maybe this has a fizzy, aldehyde-infused amber like Les Passades? Who knows. I get citrus fizz, leather, agarwood, and clove from this, with the fizz and clove being most noticeable at the beginning of the wear, and the leather and agarwood gaining strength over time (although this scent never gets as dark as it sounds based off of the notes). This isn't a scent I need more of, but I'm glad that I decided to try it, and I'll keep an eye out for future reviews to see if anyone else has any ideas about the source of the fizz!
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Prototype of an unreleased scent for a media tie-in. A perfume for shapeshifters, charmers, and agents of chaos and transformations. Green-gilded leather, patchouli leaf, golden bergamot, agarwood, fiery clove, ti leaf, and amber.
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This scent is mostly about the pumpkin molasses on me, which is infused with some fruitness from the mulberry at first, and the clove adds a bit of spice that works well with the pumpkin molasses. It turns out that sonnen-werbel is a fictional herb that is just German sounding, and I am not getting any caraway or anything resembling black licorice (fortunately). I'm glad that I was given a chance to try this, but I don't see myself reaching for this over other molasses-heavy scents in my collection.
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A perfume devoted to John George Hohman's Der lange verborgene Freund or Long Hidden (Lost) Friend, a work published in 1820 which collects a selection of spoken prayer and written charms such as the SATOR square. Hohman's work draws upon earlier works such as Egyptian Secrets of Albertus Magnus and also offers practical remedies for everyday concerns. Mulberry, pumpkin molasses, and sweet clove dashed with sonnen-werbel to ensure that people speak to you with pleasant words and a sprinkle of caraway to keep you safe from frights and fantasies.
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This is predominantly about the butterscotch ale on me, which has some effervescence to it in the beginning. Then it's all butterscotch and buttery pumpkin that fortunately isn't a spicebomb. Definitely one for fans of butterscotch!
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In a desperate bid to mend the fractures of this cursed timeline, we are stretching Halloween beyond all reason, until time itself buckles and snaps back into place. It’s thirsty work, so here’s a snuggly blanket of creamy pumpkin cold foam quivering atop a pint of butterscotch ale.
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A bitterly cold, bone-white chypre; austere polar musk, vegan ambergris, and white tea combine to make a genteel, frigid perfume as bright and sharp as the first crack of glacial ice.
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A rapidly melting tower of vanilla ice cream thoroughly glooped with marshmallow sauce and amethyst syrup, speared with shards of waffle cone.
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An aromatic crusty loaf covered in pre-bake slashes to create a floral pattern on top, flecked with flax, sesame, pumpkin seeds.
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You’re a grownup, no one can stop you from slurping up clouds of rooty foam from around a giant glump of pumpkin ice cream squished onto the rim of a frosted goblet.
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Pomegranate and Red Rose.
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Lavender cotton candy fur and vanilla popcorn balls, sent skittering out of the kitchen with a good-natured wave of our polished wood rolling pin.
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A goblet of pale liquid gold infused with an almost iridescent shimmer of lavender essence.
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Dead Leaves and Apple Pie.