Seanan

What I say: Someday, I will learn to actually read the Lab descriptions before I go smearing things on myself. Seriously, the fact that I'm not actively allergic to anything they use doesn't mean I should just go sliming myself. I can't wear musk, I can't wear dragon's blood, and I can't wear anything they describe as 'sanguine'. But I didn't read the description, and so I put it on my skin, and smelled...musk. And musk. And musk. AND OH GOD THE MUSK THE MUSK IS IN MY BRAIN IT IS FORCING ME TO EAT TACOS AND DANCE THE CHA-CHA! I was not even a little bit amused. The orris tried to put in an appearance, and promptly got slapped by the musk and told to go back to its goddamn corner already. And then the coconut arrived, and suddenly I smelled like musky sunscreen. This was somehow not actually pleasing unto me, and I was forced to scrub myself with pumpkin scented bodywash for about fifteen minutes to make it stop. I don't know how the scent died down, because I washed it off first. It hurt me. It hurt me a lot. Uck. And that is all. My score: -2 out of 10. DO NOT WANT.

What I say: So, um, yeah. I read the Lab description and went 'so you say this has roses in it?'. And then I uncapped the vial, sniffed, and discovered that it actually had the entire Berkeley Rose Gardens in it. I actually gagged, because I hadn't really expected to get bitchslapped by that many roses at once. I am choosing to take this as a lesson. Namely, 'the Lab is not actually lying when they claim to have shoved all the roses in Wonderland into a single perfume'. If you don't like roses, steer clear. If you do like roses, apply this one outdoors. Because I will do anything for SCIENCE!!!!, I put it on anyway. On my skin, the initial impression is 'you have just applied more roses to your wrists than grow in the entire state of Oregon, you fool, you fool, you reeking, rose-scented fool'. Seriously, it's impossible to think anything beyond AIIIIIIIEEEEEGH THE ROSES THEY ARE EATING MY FLESH IT BURNS IT BURNS OH JESUS!!!!!. I put on very little of this perfume. I smelled like the Rose Bowl. It was distressing in the extreme, and did I mention that the roses were touching me in bad places? They were very intrusive, and I did not approve. The scent did eventually start to die down, which is good, since it meant I didn't suffocate and die. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, it was just OH MY GOD STRONG, and strong in a very, very floral way. After about an hour, the roses died down enough for me to smell the grass, but it was too little, too late. I had to wear Bad Luck Woman Blues for three days to beat back the trauma, and I think I now have a phobia of garden shows. My score: 2 out of 10. I'm gonna put this on Vixy and see if the Red Queen whacks her head off.

A mysterious, enigmatic blend of dry, mellow rosewood, crushed rose leaf and the slightest touch of warm hazel. What I say: So in the bottle, this basically smells like...God knows what. Seriously. I'm pretty good about picking out BPAL notes, as a general rule; even when I can't identify them all, I can usually find two or three of the dominant notes. But this? Just sort of smelled, well, sweet. Not like roses, not like leaves, not nutty, just...sweet. I sniffed it a lot before daring to put it on, because with things that have no defined notes, well. Sometimes they're awesome. And sometimes they kick the crap out of me and take my stuff away. On my skin, the sweetness promptly took off its robe to disclose a fabulously dry and understated sort of dusty rose scent. I'm assuming this was the rosewood, but alas, it didn't stick around; very shortly after it appeared, it was attacked by the rose leaf, which had a much stronger, sharper, rose-i-er scent, and which seemed intent on beating the living crap out of it. For about fifteen minutes, I smelled like fancy rose soap from a very nice whorehouse, which was nice, but...not really my thing. Luckily, it turns out that rosewood is stealthy, and difficult to kill. It lurked under the miasma of rose leaf until the rose leaf got distracted by something shiny, then crept out of hiding and clubbed it to death with the hazel. I now smell like pleasantly dry, dusty rose sachets, something that's been lurking in a chest for generations, waiting to be found and used to summon the spirits of the dead. Who will hopefully be friendly. A nice, mature scent, and one I approve of. My score: 6 out of 10. It's evil a little too much of the time, but it settles nicely.

What the Lab says: ...nothing of any use. Seriously, this is one of those blends where they basically go 'ooooooo flavor text ooooooo spooky wear the perfuuuuuuuuuume.' Neil Gaiman was somewhat more useful, as he occasionally is, and says, 'It smells like green apples and like sex and vampires, all at the same time. (Actually, it smells like sexy vampire apples.)' Sexy vampire apples is a scent description that I can deal with, given that I describe my favorite BPAL as smelling like freaky chainsaw swamp sex. What I say: I have a small Snow White fixation. Very small. Tiny. Miniscule. Small, tiny, and minuscule enough that I didn't particularly care what the flavor text said; I was going to try the perfume. Upon opening the bottle, I was greeted with the smell of cold, almost metallic apples, with a very slight floral undertone that could have been roses, could have been snowdrops, could have been any one of a number of things. I was immediately intrigued. Also very pleased, as the Lab's 'cold' notes almost always smell awesome on me. No sexy vampire apples had yet put in an appearance. On my skin, the initial impression is one of apples and cold. I smelled almost instantly like an iced apple martini. Not exactly the result that I was looking for, although it was sort of interesting, in a 'what would you smell like as a Strawberry Shortcake character?' sort of a way. Rather than dying down, as I might have expected, the scent of apples grew steadily stronger, eventually beating down the cold enough that the underpinning scents of blood and steal and walking into the dark, dark wood all alone could start to emerge. Seriously. The perfume smells like taking off your cross and stepping away from the path. It's...loamy. The scent died down in stages. First the wood faded away; then the steel, and the distant, how-did-they-do-that? tang of blood. The floral made a brief last-minute comeback, declaring itself to be rose, before fading under the apples and the cold. Not apple martini apples and cold; that ship had sailed. This was frozen apples in the snow, and it whispered away like a secret. That is the worst thing about this scent; when it goes, it's gone, leaving just the scent of perfumer's base behind. My score: 8 out of 10. It's suitably filled with sexy vampire apples, and it makes me want to slink and write Winter Queen stories, but it fades a lot faster than I like.

I've always avoided the musks, but this smelled so amazingly sweet-spicy-candied-good in the bottle that I gave in and tried it on. Wet, it was like a really, really good piece of spicy cinnamon-and-cardamom cake, all chewy and kinda making me want to eat my own wrist. The chocolate and cherry were definitely present, but less vital, in their own way, than the spice. The spice is life! As it dried down and matured, it became richer without losing complexity, settling into a fabulous blend of sweets and spices. Very nice. I am pleased.

Holy crow, this is awesome on me! Pine, vanilla, lime and sweetness. It actually dries down smelling like a ritual in progress -- there's no smoke note, but it makes me want to burn candles and dance. I mostly smell good in the sweet and fruit scents; if Verdandi, Penny Dreadful, or Red Lantern work for you, you'll love this.

This smells like embalming fluid. Literally -- I did some internship work with corpses, and this smells like freshly washed, embalmed corpses. It worries me that I like it this much. Sweet and crisp, like lemon and tea and embalming fluid and comfortable funeral homes just before the dead rise up and eat your brains. I am very pleased indeed.

Wet in the bottle, sharp and woody, rather like torches burning in a pirate galley. I approve, but can't say whether it'll be any good on me at all. Damp, it's still very sharp, and very woody indeed. There's an incense aspect that's rather nice. Hope it comes out more in dry-down... ...oh, look, it does. Dry, it's a sweet, sharp incense, all merchant ships burning before going down at sea. There's no salt or ozone in this at all, but it's still fabulously piratical!

In the bottle, this smells like lemon pledge. Given that it contains no lemons, that's a little bit unsettling. On me, it smells like...orange pledge. At least that's a little more accurate. I don't know if citrus notes dislike me or what, but this didn't work for me at ALL.

In the bottle...hello, roses. How've you been? Do you have any company in there? No? Well, they say you do, so let's put you on. On my skin, there's a brief flare of something more complex underneath the rose, but it's quickly overwhelmed by ROSE ROSE ROSE, as if the floral note had something rather strident to prove. I kept hoping that this would change during the dry-down phase, but alas, that was not to be; the rose remained strong and dominant, leaving the scent cloying and rather unpleasant on my skin. I'm afraid Lucy may give lovely kisses, but I don't really want her kissing me.

Wet, in the bottle...I smell cake. Well, that's a promising start, given that the scent was described as being, y'know, cake. On my skin, the scent of blackcurrants rises out of the deep and does a little dance, all over the cake. Cake and currants! I am in my place of bliss, and hoping it doesn't change too overly much during dry-down. It begins... Oh, hello, vanilla! Dry, I smell of white cake and currants, all tasty treats and the promise of more yet to come. It's very hard not to just start licking myself. I think I'm in love. Definitely a keeper.

Wet in the bottle, I can't even tell what this smells like; it's sweet and sharp and seems somehow sticky, and I can't imagine what it's going to be like on the skin. Dubiousness is me. On the skin, the sweetness takes over almost immediately, wiping out the sticky sharpness that I found in the concentrate. Maybe this won't be so bad. And then, as the dry-down begins... ...everything changes. Suddenly, there are spices, delicate ones, that make me think of the British Musuem (the Egyptology wing, natch). Suddenly, there is a dusty undertone to the sweetness, making it a veneer, rather than a substance. Suddenly, I am in love.

Both wet and in the bottle, I am smacked upside the head by a wave of butter butter BUTTER. Nothing else. Just BUTTER. As the scent begins to dry on me, a sharper, almost sour note emerges, followed by a nutty undertone that mellows the sourness almost immediately into brisk, crisp pine. I begin to smell like caramel corn with peanuts. It's very odd. Fully dry, the pine has matured, and I smell like hot buttered chestnuts being eaten outside in a pine forest, probably somewhere within twenty yards or so of a roaring bonfire. It's very surreal, but very cool. I heartily approve.

Wet in the bottle, this smells very sharp -- so much so that I really can't distinguish notes, per se, just overwhelming sharp sharp sharpness iiieeeee. On my skin, however, even wet, the sharpness is immediately vanquished beneath a tide of sweet, crushing...dirt. Yes, dirt. Once again, the smell of potting soil rises up and crushes all else on my skin. There's a floral under there as well, but it's not beating out the dirt. Dry-down begins. Ah, there's the floral! Roses! Like Zombi, but spicier, and somehow sharper. The smell of ginger starts to manifest, until... In full dry-down, I smell of dirt, roses, and sharp, melancholy spice, like hot tea in a graveyard. Absolutely divine. I am delighted.

Wolfsbane and Ultraviolet both have AMAZING staying power on me; so does Jailbait (but that assumes you want to smell of bubblegum and naughtiness, which, hey, you just might!).