jasmine

Severin smells divine when freshly applied... just divine. There’s a streak of lemon through the center of various tea smells. I can’t pick up the leather yet, which makes me reasonably happy, though there’s a solidity at the core of the smell that will probably develop into leather. For now, it’s various lemons and tea, and I don’t disapprove. (I note that, after reviewing the forums, the “lemon” I pick up is probably bergamot.) Still no sign of the leather. This isn’t a girly scent, but it isn’t painfully masculine, either -- I can imagine wearing it and feeling very elegant and sophisticated as I did. (I can also imagine smelling it on someone else and purring with pleasure. In fact, I plan to slather it on someone else and purr with pleasure at him, as soon as I have the opportunity!) To my surprise, it’s also settling into my skin. Severin has decided to be subtle on me. Revision: that’s not subtle, that’s “really subtle”. It’s only been a few minutes, and Severin is just a ghost on my skin with no throw at all. I can detect it, but I’m also perfectly willing to put my nose within half an inch of my skin, and I certainly don’t expect most other people to do that. ...and now, one hour after application, it’s basically gone. Still, though it faded so terribly fast on me, I loved the way it smelled, and I understand why people lust after it as fiercely as they do. That was very, very nice... just terribly brief. Darn.

First impression: a blend of woods with an alcohol mist overtop (not really wine, but the “hi, I’m perfume” alcohol smell) and a rasp of leather somewhere underneath. After waiting a bit, a touch of smoke appears, as well as something that seems like oakmoss. The woodiness in the center remains. It’s a highly complex smell. There’s something in it that I don’t like... a familiar “not right on my skin” scent that appeared in a few other mixtures. I would have blamed it on myrrh until recently, but now I begin to think that my skin funkifies the Lab’s sandalwood mixture. Hmm. The smokiness is taking over, and my patch test now smells like I’ve been standing near a rack of different incenses. The various layers in Black Tower don’t cooperate particularly well on my skin -- they want to, but they wind up arguing over it instead of supporting one another. The throw on this scent is getting pretty good, too. It’s had time to settle, now. From time to time, I catch the throw and don’t mind; it has a nice woody warmth to it. If the application smelled close-up the same way it does at a distance, that would be good. I have no idea what I’m actually detecting in the throw (sorry -- I’m much better with plants!), but the direct scent is much different -- far too brash, and with far too little harmony to be pleasing. I recognize that this is a “masculine” scent, but I doubt I’d like it any more on a man than I do on me. About three hours in, it did finally settle and blend, but... as Queen Elizabeth said to the men of her court, while she swept majestically through the mud puddle, “Too late--!”

Goodness, that’s pretty! I really hadn’t expected to like it anywhere near as much as I did at first sniff. I suspect it’s the rose -- it bloomed instantly on my skin. I certainly detect other notes, though... there’s something high and thin that reminds me of part of a lemon scent without being a whole rounded lemon, and there’s a low, broad undercurrent that I can’t properly place, yet which gives the scent good body. This is a marvelously multilayered scent. Something sweet and fruit-like is developing in that middle layer. There’s still a faint edge like lemon across the top, and the rose has faded away into the fruity middle scent. I can’t tell the middle from the bottom any more. It’s neither a warm scent nor a cold one, but it’s closer to warm than cold. As time passes, it grows more subtle, and the faint, clean edge across the top of the scent grows more prominent. There’s a trace of soapiness, but the warm, broad scent underneath is too confident for the soap to go anywhere significant. On a side note, more than any other scent I’ve tried so far, this one seems misnamed. I’m at a complete loss as to why it was named Thanatos. I can only conclude it smells differently on other people, and that my skin is doing something special and weird to it. I’ll fail to complain about this, considering how much I like the scent (though the soapiness coming in did sadden me.)

A round, slightly fruity smell when just applied. Something about it makes me think of strawberries, but without the innocence. It settles into a warm, woody smell that still has a hint of fruitiness to it. It’s a multidimensional smell -- maybe a bit thinner on the bottom than would be best, but it’s still layered. ...or it was. It’s started fading away into something very soft and subtle. It’s not bad, but it’s nothing more than a low, subtle, red woodiness on me now -- how unanticipated. (And to think: here I had feared it would go completely masculine!) I’m catching a faint soapy edge under the wood, too, which is also a great surprise. It keeps it from being cloying, and it isn’t actively unpleasant, but it’s very strange. This grows more soapy as it settles further in. I think it’s the chamomile. There’s still a faint hint of wood, but it’s on its way out. Whatever Libertine is supposed to do, it doesn’t do it on me.

Immediately out of the vial, this is sugary sweet. I don’t perceive it as a blend, but as a single scent.. something light and soft and distinctly foody. Time passes, and it remains as it began: light and soft and sugary. Slowly, I begin to catch a floral hint, and the scent opens up a bit more with the floral. This is a lazy-day scent, something for lying about and reading and brushing my hair excessively and being contented. This really, really lasts on me -- and it really hasn’t changed, save that the wisp of florals I caught earlier has vanished away again. After twelve hours, it’s still a smooth, light, soft, sugary scent. How remarkable. I think I would like it better if I had really caught more of a floral scent from this, but I like it quite a bit as it is, so it’s no real complaint.

After I first apply it, this is a dark purple smell. Layers of lush flowers are obvious, and I can pick up the cypress underneath them. I’ve also got a low undernote that reminds me of Czernobog (which I hated with a passion). I would think it was a musk, but there’s no musk in Medea, and so, comparing the two scent notes lists, that must be myrrh... except that I loved Athens, which is supposed to be mostly myrrh and came out mostly honey on my skin. I don’t get it. I conclude that I’m boggled on scent notes and return to trying to concentrate what I’m actually perceiving in Medea. It’s a rich, lush smell. Much more than Czernobog, Medea remains me of Morgause: the flowers are full and dark and confident, but, for all of that, it isn’t a smell that I actually want to wear. I think it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do, scent-wise, but it clashes with my personality. About six hours after application, Medea went very masculine on me. At that point, I would have liked it rather a lot if I picked it up on someone else, but not on me! An hour or two after that, it vanished away entirely. Very odd.

This was another broken imp cap. I didn’t even feel it tear -- it just opened easily, and then I looked down to realize it was never going to close again. How terribly frustrating. Mandrake is sharp and herbal and unpleasant in the vial, and not much better on my wrist. It’s a green smell, but not a fresh green smell -- something aging irritably. As it settles in, it continues to smell green and unpleasant. It certainly doesn’t smell like a perfume, but it does smell rather like I’ve been grubbing in an arcane garden. (I’m picking up the same “dirt” note that I found in Zombi.) It remains green and herbal as time passes. Yuck. It isn’t even a fresh-cut grass green, which I can enjoy, but something that needed to be pruned and trimmed long ago. I hope this metamorphoses again. Having monitored the scent over several hours, I can say that it never did metamorphose again... just faded slowly away. What a completely bizarre scent.

Fresh out of the vial, this smells like sunblock. Not coconut sunblock -- just sunblock. In honest fact, I can’t pick up a single note from the list. There might be a faint trace of hazelnut, but only if I concentrate very hard, and then I might be imagining it. As it settles, it gains a faint aura that sunblock usually doesn’t have -- it’s a slightly prettier smell, but only slightly. I’m picking up the coconut, but I wanted coconut to be a dominant note in this blend, and it obviously isn’t going to be. Black Pearl blossoms over time, and over time, I start to pick up the musk and the iris. This becomes a soft summer scent that cries out for the beach. It’s artfully done, but I can’t escape the feeling that I could be just as happy with a good dollop of Coppertone.

My initial impression was, “Wow! Grapefruit! Tasty grapefruit!” The grapefruit doesn’t reign through the entire scent, though -- there’s a creamy addition to it that is remarkably pleasant. Uselessly, I have no idea what it might be when I look at the scent list. I also catch a herbal quality that must be the chamomile and a very faint trace of mintiness. As the scent dries, it acquires a bit more body (rather like the famous grin materializing a cat!) and I think I can pick up the currant underlying the grapefruit as the grapefruit backs down. More time passes, and now it smells like iced tea to me -- specifically, Lipton’s. I can’t explain that from the notes, but I’m not complaining about it; while I hate the taste of iced tea, I love the smell, and this is perfectly lovely. It’s not a feminine scent, either; I can see this being fresh and wonderful and tasty-smelling on a man just as easily as a woman. Cheshire Cat lacks staying power on me, unfortunately -- it faded out to nothingness within four hours. I still love the smell.

I don’t like leather, which leaves me immediately wary. Fortunately, this isn’t a heavy leather scent on me, though there may be a trace of it in the background. In fact, the primary impression I have is of wine-soaked roses... not a sophisticated wine, but a cheap and easy drunk. The flowers are astonishingly sweet -- not sugary or honeyed, but sweet like nectar is sweet, and layered all through with the scent of wine. As the scent settles, there’s a distinct warmth to it, but it’s a warmth without spiciness. Instead, there’s just that rich wine-soaked roses smell pervading everything. Wanda has throw, too. The alcohol scent has faded in and out a bit. For a while, Wanda smelled nonalcoholic -- roses dipped in grape Kool-aid, perhaps? -- but then it went back to being wine, and now it’s a more impressive wine rather than a cheap drunk. I approve. (Note: at no stage has Wanda been anything that I want to wear anywhere near an office!) I don’t know what circumstances I’ll have that will be fitting for this scent, but I do like it quite a bit, and I look forward to wearing it on whatever occasions seem appropriate.

Wet, I smell the honey, and it doesn’t seem to be going bad on me, which I appreciate. (I seem to have fifty-fifty luck with honey.) After that first impression, the honey retreats, leaving a mixture of musk and floral behind. I don’t think I can detect the myrrh. This does strike me as a sexual scent, though I’m not sure I would go to quite the extremes of the lab description. (Of course, I rarely do.) I detect florals above musk, not sharply divided, but in a smooth progression. The description claims cognac, but, if so, I can’t find it. The honey is still under there somewhere, though I have to concentrate to find it. This is becoming a second-skin scent on me... something that obviously isn’t my own body scent, but something that doesn’t announce “hello, I’m a perfume!” It’s not sweet at all, now; the honey has vanished. It’s metamorphosed instead into a fuzzy musk scent. It probably has its place, but I’m not sure what its place is. I don’t dislike it exactly, but I’m not likely to reach for it in the future. At the beginning, when it was lovely and floral-tinged and had honey currents, I was very happy; now, it just smells... I don’t know. It never got the saltiness that caused me to say “Play-Doh!” with some other honey scents, but whatever it is doesn’t impress me. Sure does stay, though.

I smell some note in this that reminds me of the first smell of Morgause. To be more specific, as soon as I smelled it in the vial, I thought, “Toilet cleanser!” Not an auspicious beginning. With that said, I have no idea what it is, as their lab descriptions are so different, and it may just be a quirk. This is an awkward blend for me to describe because I don’t know what any of those notes smell like, save possibly ylang ylang (and I don’t think I could pick it out reliably in a blind scent test.) Consequently, this may be fairly useless to anyone else. Still, my impression is one of medium complexity. (The toilet cleanser note has faded.) Tisiphone is a dry scent in and of itself, without any sweetness, striking me as neither floral nor spicy, neither hot nor chill. It’s a smooth, dark scent. As it settles, it becomes more floral, though the overall impression I have is still one of darkness... the darkness of a steel grey twilight. This is not an unpleasant scent, but it’s not a pretty one, either. It’s alone, but not lonely... a scent of solitude and strength. It has its virtues, but it didn’t particularly impress me. After four hours, Tisiphone actually blossomed into something that seemed more floral. Too long for me to wait, though.

It’s heavily honeyed out of the bottle, and I am immediately afraid that it will turn sour or clay-ish on me -- it seems to be edging towards that Play-Doh note that made me miserable in Bengal. It hasn’t done it, but it’s hovering on the edge. Back, O! I want to like you, I really do! Stay my friend! The honey is strong; the vanilla, a bit less so. The weird clay smell is stronger than either. I have no confidence in detecting amber. I find myself wanting spice to ground the scent. It isn’t going all the way toward Play-Doh... instead, it’s caught in some weird intermediate realm between honey and Play-Doh. Because this is generally commended one of the Lab’s most sexual scents, I find myself wondering if I just don’t appreciate it properly, but a glance back through other reviews on the forum convinces me that, no, it really isn’t supposed to smell like this. Darn.

Perfectly enchanting! An irresistibly sexual, utterly rapturous blend of three roses, radiant amber, and sensual red musk. I can hardly detect the roses in the vial. It’s a thinner scent than I expected, and I think I’m mostly smelling the amber and the musk. As I wait, the roses arrive, giving the scent a bit more volume, but the artifice of the scent is huge -- it doesn’t smell plasticky or outrageously artificial, but it only seems to have some aspects of rose-scent rather than smelling truly rose. The scent is blooming rapidly. Figuring out the radius of this scent is difficult because the entire space around me now smells like Spellbound. I’m duly impressed, but I wonder if it will retain that kind of presence for any length of time -- it seems like a difficult feat. This is undeniably a red scent. I can detect the rose, though it is, as mentioned before, not a “true” rose. I’m not very good at recognizing amber and musk yet, so I can’t be confident whether or not they’re here, but this is a sweet, full, red scent now.

Lime! Hello, lime! How are you today! All my face are belong to you! ...okay, now that I’ve finished that little bit of silliness, I must say I’m surprised. I wasn’t knocked over by the lime scent while Whitechapel was still in the vial -- in the vial, it’s only one note among many -- but the lime is very prominent on my skin while the oil is wet. As it starts to dry, it becomes cooler and a bit more aloof, but I still can’t get over that first giddy rush of lime. As it dries, it picks up a bit of masculinity, though it still doesn’t strike me as overwhelmingly masculine. I think I detect a resin of some sort under the lime, but, looking back at the description, I think it must be the musk. (I’m still very bad at discerning musks and resins, but I am getting practice!) Whitechapel is a chill smell... very aloof. The lime isn’t giddily exuberant any more, but it’s still shouting loudly on my arm, and all other notes in the blend are entirely drowned out. I don’t particularly dislike lime, but I don’t have any particular fondness for it as a solo scent, either. Oh well.

Definitely something foody about this. I pick up sugar immediately. The food smell is accompanied by something floral -- lavender, I think, though it may not be. As the smell settles, it relinquishes a bit of its foody power and gains a bit of warmth. I’m not complaining about the change. It has an elegance to it. It’s sexy -- a subtle sexiness that is neither distinctly masculine or feminine. This smells complex and confident without being obtrusive. It’s sophisticated, graceful... a truly elegant scent. I want to dance with people who move like Dorian smells. As time passes, my impression of Dorian remains one of elegant warmth. All of the elements weave into a single tapestry of scent. Oddly, while I think the scent is sexy, I find that I don’t feel sexy while wearing it, because what I actually want is to smell it on someone else’s skin. That would be... nice. It's gradually becoming more masculine, a warmer, deeper smell, which reduces my desire to wear it further. Consequently, I don’t see myself wearing Dorian often, but I’m very impressed by it, and I’ll keep it in mind for situations where I want to feel calm and sophisticated.

Goodness. This smells like a childhood memory of a field full of flowering weeds. I don’t know what is producing that instant blast of nostalgia, but it’s impressive. It’s a green smell, but a shadowed green smell, and it includes memories of plants with names that I don’t even know. It’s the smell of having to come inside now because it’s getting late, and the sound of the dogs tearing past me on the path on their way in for dinner. I could swear that Khephra has something in common with Has No Hanna. I have Has No Hanna on my wrist, and Khephra on my elbow, and I think I’m picking up a shared note between them that has nothing to do with scent drift. If Has No Hanna had a scent note list, that would be useful, but it doesn’t. Now the smell is cooling, fading from green towards white. Along the way, it picks up something that I can’t place readily but don’t like as much. It strikes me as powdery -- not a baby-powder scent, but the smell of foundation powder. As the progression continues, Khephra loses its layering and becomes a straight, high, almost minty smell, accompanied by that sense of powderiness. It’s gone very white-smelling -- not a white floral, just... white. I won’t complain about the idea that it’s a nighttime scent, but it really seems more lunar than solar to me. Khephra started out well, and the nostalgia flare was neat, but the end was a disappointment. I don’t see myself tracking down more of this once it’s gone. On a side note, looking back through the forums, I see that many people detect resin or incense in this blend. As I’m still learning notes slowly, I could be wrong, but it really doesn’t smell like it on me.

In the vial, this is a wash of exotic, faintly sweet spice, but it changes as soon as it touches my skin, immediately becoming... ...Play-Doh. So that’s what people mean when they complain about the Play-Doh scent. I see why it’s what comes to mind. It smells exactly like Play-Doh. There is no mistaking it. I have a great respect for the lab, so I’m going to suffer it out for a bit, but... how incredibly disappointing! In addition to being Play-Doh, this oil is stinging. Since I looked straight at my elbow before application and thought, “The skin looks a bit irritated there, I probably shouldn’t do this”, I don’t think I can blame Bengal for stinging. This does, however, reduce the chances that Bengal will stay long enough to morph into something that isn’t Play-Doh. Right: five minutes have passed, and I’ve had it. The Khephra on my other elbow doesn’t hurt, so I think it actually is Bengal’s fault. Off you go, Bengal.

Sharp and herbal. There’s something spicy in there (chrysanthemum?) but mostly this is a sharp, yellow-green smell. As it settles, it starts to change. I’m pretty sure that I’m picking up jasmine now. It’s not by any stretch a straight jasmine; something else in this mixture is just as enthusiastic about my skin as jasmine is. The brief impression fades, and I wonder whether it may be another white flower instead of jasmine. Briefly, I find myself thinking of gardenias and magnolias. Right now, there’s a middle current of white floral in this scent with something faintly spicy above it and something quieter and herbal below it, but I can’t say much more. (Sorting through a scent is very difficult when there are no scent notes at all!) It’s neither a bright scent nor a dark scent, but it does strike me as a cheerful one. The jasmine in this blend has gone back to prominence, though it’s still a yellowish-green blend. Now the white is sinking and blending a bit. This is a very changeable smell on me. It doesn’t seem like a scent that I particularly want to smell like, as I’m not sure what other people would think of it, but it seems like one that I would like to be around. Perhaps the aromatherapy approach is called for.

The scent is initially highly alcoholic -- not wine, as such, just alcohol. As it settles, the alcohol fades, and I detect a mingling of fruits -- blackberry, raspberry, and plum, I think -- accompanied by something floral... a trace of rose? Looking back at the description, I find that there are no flowers in this, and I don’t think it’s the thyme that I’m picking up on. It must be a skin modulation. How odd. I continue to smell the fruit with the alcohol as it dries. The alcoholic tinge doesn’t seem like wine to me, but I can’t figure out what it actually smells like. If I were better up on alcoholic drinks, I might be able to hazard a guess. This is a pleasant wild berry smell, and the alcohol isn’t announcing itself overmuch on my skin now, so it’s a good way to go if I want to smell like mixed berries. It’s a bit fainter than I could wish, which is a disappointment, but I can slather in the future if need be.

Initially, this is lemon Pledge, and I can’t imagine why this name was chosen for it. Later, the grapefruit comes out, and then it pales away into something hollow that must be the musk. I can still sense the grapefruit, but very faintly. Though the lab’s artistry was hidden during the Pledge phase, I almost think I liked it better when it was Pledge -- this is not an unpleasant smell, but not a pleasant one either. It is a hollow, reticient scent now, with only the barest wisp of lemon and grapefruit above the musk. Throughout the day, it metamorphosed slowly and grew on me gradually. It endured detectably through ten hours of work. By the end, the lemon was gone entirely, and the result was haunting and gentle with just a hint of bite. Still, while I rather liked it by the end, I’m hesitant on circumstances where I would actually want to wear it. The name and mystique are to blame, perhaps -- in no part of my life do I want to be afraid or to induce fear. If the cap hadn’t torn, I would make plans for swapping it, but as it is, it will have to wait until I have a new container for it.

Mystique, thy name is BPAL. Even before opening the vial, I really, really want to like this scent due to having a peacock friend. My review may be slightly skewed as a result, so consider yourself forewarned. It smells like roses on the wand and roses on my wrist -- not the dark, earth-accompanied roses of Zombi, but a lighter bouquet. There is something else in the background, but I can’t figure out what it is. I feel that this scent has a “perfumey” quality that Zombi lacked, a bit less believability, but it’s still recognizably and firmly rose. (I just tried Zombi yesterday, and it’s a very convincing rose, so the comparisions come easily.) This melts rapidly into my wrist, to my dismay. There is throw, but it has a subtlety I hadn’t expected. ...I wrote that, and then I discovered that Peacock Queen was just taking her time. She has now blossomed back out in firm and appropriate force, doubtlessly because I dared to write something so inappropriate about her. Now, she is a lady with presence. I don’t think this is a pure rose scent, but there is no sense of layering -- whatever the other scent might be, it’s very supportive of the rose, and the rose is entirely and beautifully dominant. It must be a hint of some other flower. (I wish I owned Pride for a comparison, as narcissus seems terribly appropriate to the description, but I don’t know what narcissus smells like.) Now the rose is swirling around me. That’s neat. I wore Peacock Queen to work, and it lasted detectably over ten hours -- not merely “detectably” as in “I sniff my wrist and there it is” but in the sense of “oh, what’s that nice smell? Wait, it’s me! Yay!” It was lovely. This scent seems like an “everyday” rose scent to me. I would be content wearing this to work, to a casual dinner, or to the movies, but for a night on the town, I would reach for something with more sultriness. By any other name, I think that I’d smile at my imp and be content; however, by this name, I’m tracking down the bottle, even though this is a limited edition scent. Go figure.

So many people have loving things to say about Zombi that I’m very curious how this will smell. I’m not much of a dirt fan, but... let’s see what we have here. On the wand: yeah, that would be dirt... dirt with an angry floral behind it. I’m perfectly willing to believe the floral is a rose, but I also don’t think it likes me. That impression starts fading, though, as the floral starts settling in. Goodness, that is definitely rose, and it’s a dark red rose on wet earth. I came in feeling a bit negative, but this is mitigating my negativity rapidly. As the scent settles, it wafts. I was testing Yemaya on my other wrist, but the throw from Zombi is strong enough that I can’t properly determine Yemaya’s scent any more. I am impressed... this is a very convincing rose, not rose in the sense of “this is an artificial rose scent”, but rose in the sense of “this is a rose that I went into my garden and picked off a bush and brought inside”. Part of what makes it so convincing is that, as a real rose’s scent could be, the scent under the rose carries something wet and earthy that isn’t entirely pleasant as a perfume. It reminds me of wet leaves, now... a pleasant enough scent in its own right, but not appropriate-seeming in a perfume. Yet it’s all the more believable for that. Zombi seems like a scent that I would want to wear with my hair piled atop my head, diamonds glittering at my earlobes, and a red velvet gown slinking over the rest of me... a scent to wear with actual roses nearby so that the scent would be attributed to the flowers swirling around me instead of being attributed to perfume. Directly sniffing my wrist is as unpleasant as the wand initially was, but the waft is marvelously convincing, and that’s all I would want from it. Rather than fading away or metamorphosing, Zombi stayed alive (or undead?) for the better part of six hours, and I never lost that sense of “true rose” from it, though the leafiness retreated into subtlety. I still don’t see myself wearing this routinely, but it is a marvelous concoction, and I am appropriately impressed.

Tasty! Yemaya reminds me of green apple Jolly Ranchers, but not precisely -- it’s a moderated version, yet still distinctly candyish. I detect grape and melon underneath, and something that is faintly floral, yet the candy waft remains very strong. As it starts to dry, it still smells like candy of some kind, but now I find myself thinking of Mambos. It’s indubtably sweet, but perhaps a different kind of candy. The sweetness fades slightly (very slightly) as the oil continues to interact with my skin. As time passes, Yemaya seems less layered to me, which is saddening, but this effect may also be the influence of other smells in the area (tea, brownies, and Zombi on my other wrist.) While it continues to remind me of candy, I should mention that the flavor isn’t artificial -- there is a candylike quality to it, but the fruit scent (which has definitely metamorphosed into honeydew melon) doesn’t strike me as artificial. I can pick the grape up a tiny bit more after a while, but it’s white grape, not red. This mutated after a couple hours into something faintly warm, but heavily muted, with very little sweetness. I would have to reapply it over and over in order to keep this from happening. I do like it, and I think it’s fun, but I don’t see myself buying a bottle.

I have to sing out on Athens. I can't detect ANYTHING but honey, and it never went sour on me.