jasmine

Lilies! The initial scent is a true, lovely wave of lily that leaves me immediately smiling. There's a tiny hint of greenness to it, like traces of a picked lily's cut stem in addition to the lily itself. Gorgeous. This isn't a complex scent, but it doesn't seem artificial and it does seem stable. Instead of seeming like a perfume or an artificial scent, it imparts the idea that a real bouquet of lilies was here just a moment ago. It's the same convincing glory of scent that makes Zombi so wonderful. It has a medium throw -- too much would be unconvincing, yet too little would be disappointing. This is an excellent balance. The realism fades slightly as a gloss of glimmering honey fades into being, but it's neither an overwhelming honey nor a suddenly artificial flower -- just the slightest edge of a golden sheen across those white petals. I readily recommend this to lily fans, as it's quite stunning in its simple, straightforward beauty.

On the wand and on my skin, there's an immediate rush of red, slightly alcoholic fruitiness that is very appealing. The sweetness notches up sharply until it is outright candylike, but then it starts to settle back after a moment. As the candy sweetness fades, which takes only a short matter of time, a low cocoa note flows in, and this becomes a subdued, slightly hollow scent. The hollowness seems like a pale musk variant, but the description denies musk, so I have no clue. The burst of red has gone away. There seems to be a flower above the fruit, but it's all very subdued, now, and so it is becoming more difficult to be certain what I detect -- particularly since I wouldn't know half the ingredients by smell if they bit me on the nose. What is certain is that it's rather elegantly done. Simultaneously, it does not seem exotic to me, yet it is impossible for me to place the elements. It has a dry, healthy quality about it -- projecting an impression that is slightly aloof, yet down to earth all at the same time. It's pretty, yet still seems unisex. Given time, Tenochtitlan goes from "subdued" to "incredibly subdued". It lasts well, but its presence is so slight that I would never expect anyone else to pick it up if I were wearing it. I was initially quite drawn to Tenochtitlan, and I would love it if it had retained the exuberant grace of those first few moments, but it didn't hold up to its first promise. I don't think that I am likely to wear this again.

Delphi, like The Unicorn, is a scent that I really, really wanted to like for personal associations. Consequently, it was part of my first order from the Lab. I tried it briefly once when it arrived and found it highly peculiar and disappointing. I'm testing it again to write a formal review, but if you want the short version, that would be it: "Highly peculiar and disappointing." A wine note is strongest when I first apply this to my wrist, blended with some high, solid note that I can't identify -- the laurel, perhaps? It's certainly not honey; I haven't got a drop of it. The entire scent is much more high-pitched than I had anticipated, yet not screechingly so. Basically, this oil seems as though none of its elements are displayed to their best advantage. It's like hearing a bass or a contrabass clarinet go into its upper register: it can be done, but why would you bother when the low notes of those instruments are so beautiful? Delphi is producing a lot of throw today, which leaves me surrounded by a cloud of not-quite-right wine notes with that high, solid note smack in their center. It's not a pleasant experience. In a sudden burst of intelligence, I went to the pantry, pulled out the bay, and took a long sniff. Part of the solid note at the center of Delphi is bay, but it's not dried bay -- it's too high-pitched, like wet bay that has been soaked so long in wine that it's starting to disintegrate. Still no sign of either honey or smoke. Delphi doesn't metamorphose. In some scents, this would be a good thing. In this one... well, it just lasts... and lasts... and lasts. (The high bay note lingered after six hours and a heavy scrub.) Delphi is the unequivocal sum of its notes, but those notes were never meant to sum up, and the result has no appeal.

On the wand, this is high, sharp, and chemical-smelling. Having confidence in the Lab’s metamorphic blends, I hoped for strawberries and champagne once it hit my skin. In actuality, I got fermented strawberries. It doesn’t smell perfumey, and I suppose that’s something, but it smells distinctly and unpleasantly “off”. Being as fond of the Lab as I am, I’ll give it some time and see if it gets better. There’s a lightness and a hint of white grape that must be the champagne, but champagne sprinkled over overripe, fermenting strawberries is highly disappointing. I suppose it’s familiarity. I know what a strawberry ought to smell like, and this just isn’t it. It doesn’t get any better. In one way, it starts to smell plasticky, and in another, it starts to smell moldy. Really. There’s a specific way that strawberries smell when they start to get that white fuzz... and there’s a trace of something about this scent now that suggests that smell, even though the rest has gone very fake-seeming. How utterly repulsive. I hope it's better on other people.

Upon application, this instantly smells like purple grapes. Given a moment, the plum shows up, but the grape keeps it wet and lush instead of fading into the unpleasantness that plum seems to do on my skin. In an interesting effect, there is something alcoholic about this scent, but it distinctly isn’t the grape -- it’s like grapes with plum wine. Odd. Determining the various notes is basically impossible. In sum, this is a strong, deep purple scent with a distinct grapiness about it... for about half an hour. It faded away into subtlety within that period of time. I am seriously puzzled -- this is the second time I’ve worn this scent (once for fun, and now this time for reviewing) and I could swear it didn’t do this the first time around. Now that the grape has faded, the florals are coming out. It hasn’t gone all the way to soapy, but it is a surprisingly clean scent. Given additional time, the purple fruit seeps back in underneath, but it's a low purple muddle that never regains the same force of presence possessed by the initial blast of grape. It's not bad in this state -- but that initial grape was much better. And now it’s started to go smoky. I don’t know what’s causing it, but smelling like smoke really isn’t my thing. Darn.

Wet, I pick up violets immediately, which makes me regretful. (I’ve learned that I don’t like violets -- it seems to be the “toilet cleaner” note that I’ve mentioned in another review or two.) In the time it takes me to complain about the violets, a white floral arrives, and it immediately subdues the violets. Goodness... I hardly expected so prompt a response to my complaint! As quickly as it manifested, the floral calms down. I detect a faint, cool breath of frankincense at the very top of the scent, and, below that, the white floral, which I think is gardenia... it might be jasmine, but , if it’s jasmine, it’s a different jasmine variant than I’ve gotten to know, since jasmine is usually so incredibly aggressive on me. Gardenia seems more likely, though I can’t confidently pick out the difference between the two in a blend. Below that, there are still traces of violets, but it’s not an offensive violet at all... just a soft, purplish tinge in the white floral. I think there’s lavender, too. The color of this scent is definitely pale, pastel purple. As a bit more time passes, I think I’m picking up a trace of wood underneath this, but I’m not sure. It’s becoming a bit less creamy and a bit more ethereal. I don’t mind the change. It still has good throw, though. I’ve lost the hint of frankincense. Given the behavior of this white floral (by which I mean, the way it’s not thoroughly dominating and slaying all other scents around it), I speculate that this white floral might actually be a blend of white florals -- gardenia dominant, with a bit of jasmine and maybe some magnolia. I won’t swear to it, though. I don’t see this as a scent I would want to wear around other people. It’s more of a meditative, quiet, contemplative scent... not outright for sleep, but for calm, late hours. Though it isn’t a social scent, it’s very nice, and it suits its name well.

First impression: this is good stuff. Of course, that’s not very eloquent, but it’s accurate. Initially, it’s a wave of pale, spiced fruit. The orange peel comes rolling out on top a moment later, but the guava and pepper are more dominant. The apple blossom is there, too, curling mistlike around the spicy guava. Spun sugar is listed, but this doesn’t seem like a sweet blend to me -- it has a distinct dryness despite being so heavily fruit-based. I think it’s the pepper. The orange peel settles down, leaving the spiciness on top to get a better grip on the scent. I like it at first application, but I like it better with this peppery, staticky tingle filling my nose. (The tingle makes me think somehow of TV static -- pinpoints of black and white flashing, only in scent. It’s not a bad thing.) It’s a highly distinctive scent. The pepper is fading back again, and the fruit is coming out stronger. This is a surprise, since I wore it once before my “I’m going to review this now” wearing, and I could swear the fruit quieted almost into nothing the first time around. This time, it’s quite fruity. A bit more time with some patient sniffing convinces me that, rather than being static and fading, Xanthe is in a slow state of metamorphic flux. As soon as it goes too far toward fruit, it settles back toward spice, and vice versa. In either state, Xanthe is a distinctive scent with strong identity. I really like it, and I look forward to wearing it more in the future.

Immediate reaction: that’s odd. It’s definitely a floral, but I can’t place it at all when it’s wet -- and the recognizable floral component sinks almost instantly out of awareness. I can’t pick the rose up at all; I have traces of orchid, lavender, and frankincense, but only traces. This goes beyond ethereal into intangible. I am very puzzled. With the thought that perhaps I had under-applied it, I reapplied. There’s basically nothing there -- a ghostliness, neither warm nor cold, with a hint of subliminal floral. Perhaps it will blossom out later? I’ll give it some time. Slowly, something materializes, but it is exquisitely subtle. I can barely find the scent when I deliberately concentrate, so I doubt anyone else would notice it at all, no matter how close they might be. This may say something about the nature of true love, but I’ll leave the allegory where it lies. After a time, Psyche does indeed flower into a delicate floral blend. I can catch a hint of rose curling through the lavender and orchid. Still, this remains one of the most subtle Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab scents. I would certainly recommend it as a lovely option for those who prefer subtlety, but I prefer a bit more presence.

This review is dedicated to a friend who couldn’t believe I would own a perfume called Perversion. Onward! I cringe before trying anything that says “tobacco” or “leather”, let alone both, but this is unexpectedly sweet. Although there’s a touch of smoke swirling in the depths, the tonka and the rum own this scent. The longer it sits on my wrist, the more alcoholic it smells, and now I can start to pick out the wine as well. Frankly, this is impressive. The alcohol tingles, the vanilla soothes, and the smoke is virtually undetectable. If it doesn’t fade out on me, I can definitely see myself wearing this again, though certainly not to work. Definitely an evening scent, and not a fancy evening, either. It would go well with messy hair, excessive eyeliner, and fishnets. (This isn’t particularly my style. Perversion goes well with them, but it doesn’t demand them.) As time passes, this scent turns outright pretty... pretty with a broad streak of alcohol, but pretty. It fades down as well, and now it’s just a tingling, shimmering veil of scent. The rum has lessened, and the chardonnay and tonka reign. Given some more time, the tonka backs down, and it’s simply all chardonnay. It’s hardly what I expected, but I’m glad of that, since I expected to hate this, and I like it a lot instead.

Just off the wand, this is a very sharp smell with no beauty at all. Jasmine or not, this doesn’t smell particularly floral; the oakmoss and the sandalwood are dominating, and they aren’t getting along well while they do it. It is exotic... I’ll agree with that... but it’s not pleasant. The jasmine is coming out, but it’s picking a fight with the oakmoss and sandalwood. The jasmine is going to win. I won’t promise it would on anyone else’s skin, but this is my skin, and the jasmine usually does. When the jasmine settles out, I’m surprised to discover that my opinion has changed. Before, I actively disliked this. Now... suddenly, instead of being a squabble of notes, Salome metamorphoses into a balanced, predatory, highly sexual scent. I think it’s because the musk came out as well -- it gives body to the blend as a whole instead of leaving it as a mixture of individual notes. I won’t quite say that I like it, but I’m definitely drawn to it... it’s got that kind of magnetic pull about it. Interesting. This has a strong, confident, and pervasive throw. It’s not a subtle scent in the slightest. (It’s not unisex in the slightest, either. Jasmine is not a masculine scent, even if it’s jasmine with slitted eyes, carved sandalwood claws, and a truly evil grin.) Even after the musk comes out, there’s still something I don’t quite like about Salome, but I can’t figure out what it is. The closest I can come is that Salome has more of an edge than I usually want... which is a synesthesic description instead of a useful one, but that’s what’s wrong -- it’s edgy, and it really isn’t pretty. But there are times when edgy is good, and this is the best edgy scent I’ve found from the Lab so far.

Cool minty spicy evergreen! I’ve got juniper, pine, and frankincense here, but I won’t claim for an instant to be able to pick out any of the rest of this. It’s a complex, snowy, dark green scent, and I like it. After a few minutes, unfortunately, the complex dark green of this scent fades away into a fuzzy, pale mint. The evergreen was dark enough that I’m completely surprised to have it yield to the frankincense. It’s fading very fast -- the smell is getting weaker and weaker by the moment. After only ten minutes or so, it has no throw at all. That’s quite unexpected, and not in a good way. The smell hasn’t gone all the way to pastel, but it’s gone very pale. I’m disappointed -- I was so happy with it at first. Plainly, it isn’t going to recover. Ah, well -- win some, lose some.

I smell pine, but it’s not an overwhelming pine; other woods and leaves are present. I detect a trace of mint hovering above everything else (frankincense, possibly?) and I can pick up the almonds. With that said, Knecht Ruprecht is a smooth blend; it has complexity, but it doesn’t immediately strike the nose as complex. This is very impressive and artful. Given a few minutes to work, the pine comes out more strongly (in addition to jasmine, my skin apparently amplifies pine) and now I can catch a hint of apple. My delight over this scent isn’t fading with time -- and the scent isn’t, either; it has a moderate throw, which fades after a while, and then it stays durable and subtle. I approve vastly. Of the woodsy scents I’ve tried so far, this has immediately claimed its place as my favorite. I’m not sure that I will wear a woodsy scent often enough to justify picking up a bottle, but it is wonderful and good and worthy of applause.

With a description like that, I haven’t got a clue. Here goes! Immediate reaction: this is vegetative and a bit earthy... make that very earthy, as it settles into my skin. It doesn’t seem like patchouli to me, but like the "hello, I'm dirt!" note that the Lab slips into things sometimes. Hmm. Less dirt; a bit perfumey now; still very vegetative. This is definitely not a scent that I would recommend for everyday. I could readily see it as a Rappacini’s Garden scent -- it smells like plant and dirt, with only a bit of perfuminess layered on top. Also, it gathers strength for some serious presence, so it isn’t as though it can be worn privately and secretly for inner harmony or something along those lines. It’s obtrusive. After time, a touch of smokiness develops, which really isn’t my thing. I’m fairly sure this scent is doing what it’s supposed to do, but it would be better off doing it to someone else. Given more time, the smokiness gets stronger... seven hours later, the smoke is most prominent, with dirt and vegetation in the background. It still has exceedingly strong throw, and I'm no longer certain that this is the way it's supposed to smell -- I'm starting to think this is a quirk of skin chemistry. I can’t see myself deliberately wearing this again.

On the wand, it seems like a spiced floral, but it transmutes promptly into pine on my skin. The combination of orange and pine is a rather peculiar one. The orange is much quieter than the pine, lingering underneath instead of coming out on top. The eucalyptus is harder to detect than either one. Pine, pine, and more pine; the pine likes me. People comment every now and then that something seems more like a room scent or an oil burner scent than a wear-me scent, and Jabberwocky strikes me that way. It’s invigorating and fresh, but it doesn’t say to me, “wear me!” Since I feel Black Forest says “wear me!”, I can’t properly explain why. I think the hint of orange reminds me of an air freshener. Alternately, it may be that this seems like a warm pine, instead of a cold pine, and I prefer a bit more chill in my pine trees. As more time passes, all I can smell is pines. Ah, well. There are other pines I like better.

Honeyed almonds on the wand, with a bit more complexity underneath. The immediate impression is one of an almond croissant, actually. Either it has a really strong throw, or I bounced my wrist off my nose, and I can’t tell which for a moment. Experimentation indicates that it is a really strong throw. Goodness. This is extremely “food” on me. After taking a bit to settle in, it starts going soapy. Almond soap is a seriously peculiar combination, and I don’t like it. It’s still very sweet and foody along with being soapy. The soapiness has started to fade, rather to my relief, but I think it’s still a bit too sweet, and the presence of soapiness made me unhappy. The throw is very strong, and the scent doesn’t seem like "me" even when it stops being soapy. Seven hours later, it has faded into a subtle, soft, completely non-soapy almondiness that I do like, but that’s far too long to wait on a scent.

Before smelling this, I presumed that Zephyr would be another “Hello, I’m Pledge!” scent, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The lemon is faint, light, and lovely, buoyed by a gentle blend of white flowers. There’s a soft, creamy sweetness to it that is really remarkable. This isn’t a “foody” scent, but it’s delectable nonetheless. The floral doesn’t seem to be jasmine, gardenia, or honeysuckle -- magnolia, perhaps? It isn’t amplifying on my skin, which surprises me pleasantly. I can pick out the vanilla, the musk, and the lemon, but they all combine in a soft, ephemeral way that has exquisite internal balance. Given a bit more time, the lemon and florals fade out, but the vanilla and musk remain. At this point, I find myself wishing the vanilla were a touch stronger, but that’s probably because I’m so impressed by the vanilla that I do pick up. I would have called this feminine fifteen minutes ago, but this stage is turning into a light, deft musk-vanilla scent that could readily fit on a male. I’m surprised all over again. After a while, it’s faintly powdery on top, just the faintest hint of talcum over the vanilla-musk scent. (Someone on the forums commented that this smells of Secret Solid deodorant; I mention that because I find it quite evocative of the powdery layer on top. The effect doesn’t offend me, but it might annoy someone else.) The lemon has also drifted back. It’s not strong -- it never was -- but I can pick it up softly in the throw, even though I can’t pick it up on a direct sniff. Very odd, but certainly not bad. All in all, I consider this another enchanting success from the Lab.

Right after application, the patchouli seems to be strongest in this blend, but then the hollowness of white musk spreads overtop, easing the earthiness of the patchouli. Between the two, the poppies spread a velvety blanket, easing both and preventing either one from being overly powerful. In many blends, florals shout; the florals of Verchernyaya would never dream of doing anything so crass. This is a graceful blend that suits its name beautifully, soft and clear and stellar. As it settles into my skin, it warms softly. If I wore Verchernyaya, I wouldn’t expect anyone to comment on it, or even to notice -- it is very soft and subtle. Nonetheless, it is quietly beautiful in its subtlety. I am quite surprised at how much this scent draws me. This isn’t a feminine scent, but it definitely isn’t “manly”. I could imagine a man wearing this successfully... but not many of them. Given a very specific combination of arrogance and flair, it would work. (Johnny Depp could play the kind of man who would smell like this, but he hasn’t actually done so yet to the best of my knowledge... if that concept makes sense to anyone outside my head.) I don’t know how often I will wear this, but it’s definitely a keeper.

On the wand, this is a blast of high-pitched orange florals plus something that smells sick. By “sick” I mean, “this smells faintly like vomit.” The part that hints at secret brain damage is the part where I considered this, shrugged, and put it on my wrist anyway. I may regret this shortly. If I do, I am fully cognizant that I deserved it. The fruit definitely includes oranges. It’s a flowery smell, not lush and ripe, but sharp. These are not nice florals in the slightest. They would kick kittens, and they have sharp, pointy-toed shoes. Over the smell of oranges and thin-lipped florals, there is a pale yellow smell, like pollen from a plant that has never had nectar. Underneath, the vomit smell has faded away, for which I am duly grateful, but something about this still sparks off a “sickroom!” alarm in me. On a side note, spices? What spices? I have no spices whatsover. Given time, it gets a bit prettier, and I might like it if it had started out this way... a high orange floral. It doesn’t smell like a true floral, and the artificiality is a bit obnoxious, but that can be overlooked in some circumstances, and it even gains a tiny bit of warmth (not spice -- just warmth.) However, that first impression was so unpleasant that I can’t conceive of wearing it again.

Athens is a luscious, rich honey scent on the wand, so pure that it seems as if it ought to be sticky. On my skin, it gets more so. There’s a brief pause, while other notes struggle to break through, but then it settles down to become more honey. My honey recognition isn’t so good, but I want to say it’s wildflower honey -- a golden rich warmth just flooding over me. I was completely surprised to discover that Athens doesn’t go wonky on my skin, seeing as it’s such a honey scent and so many others have, but I’m assuredly not complaining about it. If I focus, I can pick up a trace of the wine, maybe a touch of the flowers -- but really, I don’t think I’m sensing the myrrh. It’s just honey, honey, honey, and my skin adores it. The throw is pretty strong on me, and it lingers on for a while. In summary, this is goooood. Enough said.

It’s a rich, fruity scent on the wand... definitely a red scent, but an edible red fruit scent, not a fiery one. It’s not being haughty or formally announcing its sophistication -- definitely not a “perfumey” scent in the slightest. I am appropriately impressed. After a bit of time passes, the intense fruitiness starts fading, and the scent parts into distinct layers -- a lower layer that is half fruit, half wood, and a higher layer that seems more perfumey (ah, well.) The upper layer is thin and has a slight unpleasant edge, which saddens me. The lower scent is dissolving, and the sharp upper layer is gaining strength. I really liked the way this smelled initially (more than any of the BPAL cherry scents I’ve tried yet, I think) but it’s plainly reacting badly on my skin. I’ll hope for it to settle back down. Instead, as time passes, the pitch of this scent gets higher and higher, and I very much wanted to keep the low, beautiful red fruit smell. It’s not really even red any more -- more like pale pink. A bit later, the Red Queen manifested a very faint, diffuse throw resembling the original scent -- like seeing a watercolor version of a painting when I’d already seen (and loved) the acrylic. All in all... very odd. I do not doubt that this scent is lovely on other people, but I cannot commend its behavior on me. Perhaps something like a scent locket would do.

Wet, I pick up the mint, but it’s faint and it underlies a vaguely herbal blend that doesn’t quite seem to suit the description. As it settles in, it still fails to smell like alcohol. I am disappointed. I would like it to smell like alcohol, please. (I have to pause here -- there’s a comment I never would have expected to make two months ago! “I would like it to smell like alcohol, please?” I had no clue I would fall in love with all these boozy scents.) Anyway... well, maybe Juke Joint will find its identity after sitting for a bit. After considering the matter, Juke consents to produce a bourbon scent, but it’s not the alcohol part of bourbon. It’s... bourbon flavoring, sort of. It smells like a virgin mint julep would smell, if such an eerie contraption exists. Maybe this smells better on other people. I don’t actively dislike it, but it’s really rather herbal and odd on me, and I can’t find any affection for it. ...and now it’s going powdery. Minty herbalness sprinkled with baby powder. That’s just weird, I tell you!

The initial notes are green tea and lemon, a wave of freshness with some serious throw. The musk gives it a bit more body than it would otherwise have. I smell the aloe as well, but it isn’t dominant -- it blends with the tea and supports it. This scent is layered in a fashion that seems neither complex nor simple. It has a confident throw, but because the smell is so refreshing, it doesn’t come off as overwhelming. I should also note that it’s a perfect unisex scent, neither masculine or feminine. (At least, if the male in question doesn’t balk at the idea of wearing something called “Embalming Fluid”.) This scent finds its identity within two minutes of wear and stays true to the established scent, with no odd metamorphoses. Then it lasts for a very long time. Like Snake Oil, Embalming Fluid wins its accolades from me because it is a scent I enjoy that doesn’t go weird or vanish on me. I really liked this one.

The first impression I receive is alcohol -- not perfume alcohol, but something tart that belongs in a drink. Once it’s on my wrist, it layers out nicely. It’s... not a citrusy smell, quite, but something edible all the same, while not being “foody”. It’s a clear, precise scent. Trying to pick out individual notes, I sense lime and other fruit, but... well, frankly, the lab description has it: it smells like a cocktail. The alcohol is muting out on my skin, but all the appropriate flavors remain. I really like this scent, truth be told, and I hope it doesn’t metamorphose. Regrettably, The Hamptons denatured in a chemical fashion after a few hours, smelling less like the initial cocktail fragrance and more like sour lemon with a metallic streak. Still, I enjoyed it while it lasted.

It’s a sharp scent on the wand, but less so once it’s on my skin. I can pick up the clove, but I’m not certain what else I’m smelling. When it has time to settle, I can’t even pick out the clove precisely. It’s not as sharp, now. For a synesthestic description, there’s one strong note through the center, which might be the ylang ylang, and a fuzz of slightly spicy scent to either side. The central note doesn’t announce itself as floral to me, but nothing in this blend does, and it’s higher and thicker than the fuzz around it. This scent is complex, unusual, and distinctive. It might make a good signature scent for somebody else, since it definitely doesn’t seem perfumey or artificial. With that said, while it’s not actually unpleasant, it’s not particularly appealing on me.

There’s a sharp vegetative note in this upon first application. It’s not quite herbal -- it’s more like a broken fern stalk. Underneath, there’s something familiar, and that familiar scent coalesces slowly into a dark fruitiness. Over time, the vegetative scent fades and the fruit takes over. It’s similar to plum, closer to prune, and not quite either one. It isn’t foody, despite being fruity... a dry, precise fruit flavor. There’s still something higher atop it, but I can’t sort it out. So... this presents a certain problem. I read the notes from the lab, and then I smell my elbow, and I can’t pick a single one of them out. Wood? It’s not there. Rose? Not there either. Labdanum? I’m not sure... but once it hits my skin, this decant of Pulcinella and Teresina smells more like Haloa than anything else. I’ve got no reason to think this was a bad decant, but I’m utterly confused, and I’m giving up. On me, it smells like nothing but dark, dry fruit, and it doesn’t really appeal. I’m going to try this scent again in a couple of weeks and see if it improves -- it may be a temporary skin chemistry oddity.