Dark Alice

This is a woolier version of Unicorn and the Ram. I love it. I will be getting another bottle, soon.

[No additional description provided.] This smells like crisp, honey crisp apples with a hint of pair and white amber. It's soft and beautiful and stays close to the skin. This will age beautifully.

This smells like an old rich woman drinking champagne. The piquant Bergomot translated to champagne to my nose and skin. No clove, just labdanum mixed with CHampagne.

“…Our kind of people, we are…” He waved the cigarillo about, as if using it to hunt for a word, then stabbing forward with it. “…exclusive. We’re not social. Not even me. Not even Bacchus. Not for long. We walk by ourselves or we stay in our own little groups. We do not play well with others. We like to be adored and respected and worshiped—me, I like them to be tellin’ tales about me, tales showing my cleverness. It’s a fault, I know, but it’s the way I am. We like to be big. Now, in these shabby days, we are small. The new gods rise and fall and rise again. But this is not a country that tolerates gods for long. Brahma creates, Vishnu preserves, Shiva destroys, and the ground is clear for Brahma to create once more.” Memories of myrrh and gold, and the dying smoke of a snuffed cigarillo. This myrrh is smooth. Absolutely smooth and light. The smoke is mild and it smells a little bit like a melon Cigarillo. I love it. I can't wait to wear it!

I wanted to love this. But there is too much spicy amber and peach and not enough Ambergis and vanilla cream to balance it out. *sigh*

NOTHING BUT DEATH There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree. I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter. But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread. Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral. - Pablo Neruda A dark purple river swelling with tears of rain, damp violets, and specks of bone thick with green scents that speak of mortality: black dried fruits, opopponax, moss, violet leaf and petal, tobacco absolute, saltwater accord, niaouli, and brushed sage. Wet: Wet dirt with hints of violet and water.. Drydown: Gorgeous, violet, water, and green. As it continues to dry there is the barest hint of fruit in this. And now the tobacco is starting to peek it's head out. This is a clean, violet slightly aquatic scent with some fruit and tobacco. Oddly...this is wonderful...I hope that it will age beautifully.

Lemonlife hit the nail on the head with this review. It smells like fancy, dark german chocolate. Smooth, bitter but lightly sweet. I want to eat this. It's delicious.

Wet: Lavender, a little honey, and plumeria. Dry: Plumeria has bitched slapped the lavender and knocked out the honey. Plumeria is now the winner. SN plumeria. No thanks.

This smells like Lemonheads mixed with limeheads and blended with lemon and lime lifesavers. Not my jam, but I am glad I got a chance to try it.

Eight legs of wild plum and scrabbling black musk fluttering over a sac of lemon sugar eggs. Light, lemon mixed with plum a dash of sugar with a smooth hint of black musk in the background. The musk is clean and keeps the lemon in check. Finally, a lemon scent I can enjoy!

This is the lightest woody scent I have ever tried. Smells like smooth lightly polished birch. It's a shame my skin eats this, b/c it is wonderful in the imp.

This is a gorgeous pom, violet and purple scent. I don't know what dates smell or taste like. But if they are like this, I need them! Bottle worthy for sure!

Sexy rich dirt, opium and laudunum. Sexiest dirt I have ever tried. So glad I got a partial!

Perhaps some day, who knows? But not today; it froze, and blows and snows, And you’re too curious: fie! You want to hear it? well: Only, my secret’s mine, and I won’t tell. Or, after all, perhaps there’s none: Suppose there is no secret after all, But only just my fun. Today’s a nipping day, a biting day; In which one wants a shawl, A veil, a cloak, and other wraps: I cannot ope to everyone who taps, And let the draughts come whistling thro’ my hall; Come bounding and surrounding me, Come buffeting, astounding me, Nipping and clipping thro’ my wraps and all. I wear my mask for warmth: who ever shows His nose to Russian snows To be pecked at by every wind that blows? You would not peck? I thank you for good will, Believe, but leave the truth untested still. Spring’s an expansive time: yet I don’t trust March with its peck of dust, Nor April with its rainbow-crowned brief showers, Nor even May, whose flowers One frost may wither thro’ the sunless hours. Perhaps some languid summer day, When drowsy birds sing less and less, And golden fruit is ripening to excess, If there’s not too much sun nor too much cloud, And the warm wind is neither still nor loud, Perhaps my secret I may say, Or you may guess. – Christina Rossetti Sweet labdanum, white myrrh, and bourbon vanilla. Clean, light, with a slightly green note. This needs to age for the vanilla to come out. I can't wait to see how it ages.

The Neil Geiman Tarot: The chariot! Sucha gorgeous metal scent. I feel like I am sitting in a brass and silver chariot when I wear it. And it lasts all day!

Gorgeous. Lemony, vanilla frankincense. Oddly, this combo of scents works well on me. It was worth a back up bottle for sure.

Eve w/Sage Fuckup on my period: Eve with enhanced rose and spices. Eve w/Sage fuckup normal: Smells like Eve put a rose in her hair and decided eat sage rosemary chicken on my skin. Never fails. I am so glad this is going to a new home.

This is the only cedar bpal scent I have. It's warm, mildly sweet with vanilla musk and a touch of fuzzy cedar and cardamom. I adore this scent and makes me think of my fuzzy babies.

I thought this would be a good try and then I would find it a new home. NOPE! This is sweet play doh/snake oil with soft honey, a punch of patchouli and a warm river of dragon's blood when wet. Dry: It is a lovely sweet, soft, baby dragon with honey and patchouli breath. This bottle is lovely..and will be loved in its new home.

All of these are notes of win. This bottle did not disappoint. White rose with ambergis. Simply elegant and gorgeous on me.

I smell like the song Coca Cabana honestly. Having watched a Vegas dancer lip sync this song with the bright orange dress, blue headband, glittery lights, this is what I imagine she smelled like. Exotic florals with a splash of glitter. It's rare that a scent evokes an image from my past, but here it does. It was a lovely memory from my time in Vegas with my husband. It makes me sad now that he is gone, so it will go off to a better home where it will be loved.

When I had my engagement party, I was given a punch with apricot brandy in it. This smells like it plus coconut with drunk amber in the background. I am sad. Another Luper fail.

This was a heart breaker. Every note should have been a win. Except it smelled like a coconut got drunk in a goth club and threw up on my skin. *sigh*

Oh Lord No! It has a wonderful cotton candy note, but the rose is the kind that I am allergic too. I just had to take a hit of an inhaler. Off to the swaps this goes!

I am so sad. I had high hopes for this one. But something about the smokey clove bud is turning the glorious musk, myrrh, and black coconut into a funky, rancid coconut stench. So glad I tried that decant before I got that damn bottle.