jasmine

This is a low, warm, slightly prickly smell. It has depth and subtlety; I applied more than I meant to, but it doesn’t overwhelm. Instead, it lingers. Instead of commanding the air around it, it changes the existing scents ever so slightly, like using a Hue brush in Photoshop to turn the world golden brown, or even sepia. In an effort to smell this more clearly, I’ve bounced my nose off my knee (side-of-knee application) twice now. Since Meskhenet is on my nose, I can’t possibly smell it any more clearly, but it’s still subtle and I still can’t section the notes apart from one another. It’s subtle, broad, deep. This is a scent that emotionally suggests observation and patience. Initially, Meskhenet blends into my skin, and I mentally categorize it as a scent for a day when no one needs to notice what I’m wearing, but when I will feel glad to be wearing something. To my surprise, it finally blooms after half an hour. It’s still a golden brown smell that suggests incense and dried reeds. I like this.

This is sharp on the wand, with a bright burst of fragrance that is almost, but not quite like orange peel. I can smell the grape underneath, and the lemon beside the orange. I don’t smell roses at all, which is a bit of a disappointment, but I don’t smell mint either, and I’m not complaining about that. Hmm. I still can’t detect the rose uniquely, but I think the rose is forming the middle body of this scent. It’s sharp, but it isn’t thin -- it has definite body. The rose seems to be at the center, with the grape below and the citrus above. I like this scent. My jaw isn’t on the floor, but Bess is pretty. This fragrance isn’t doing anything wrong and it’s doing good things right. Therefore, Bess is worth remembering.

There’s mint here. In the first moment, it isn’t toothpasty, but then it comes out a bit more clearly... wince. This is a cold smell, and it’s more than just a sliver of mint on my skin. (I wonder if I’m a mint-magnifier?) I can pick up traces of floral as well. This is slightly exotic, thanks to the eucalyptus, and slightly sterile, thanks to the cold mint. It doesn’t do it for me and it isn’t going to start doing it for me. I can imagine it being a good signature scent for someone else, but it’s completely alien to me... as I figured it would be, honestly. Oh well. I gave it a try; it was a swing and a miss. (At least the violet didn’t go evil or chemically on me.) Now I’ll go try something else.

Van Van is strange. It’s a light, intensely spicy blend with something like mingled citrus and vanilla underneath. It smells nice, though -- a bit like Snickerdoodles, if someone made an orange-spiked Snickerdoodle. Strange and good are not incompatible. This is growing on me rapidly. When I smell this, I want to smile. It’s a very friendly scent, heavy on the vanilla. It isn’t what I thought a “purification” scent would be (I anticipated soap, mint, or incense), but it is very positive and makes me feel good when I smell it. I like it far more than I expected to. (I’m not big on soap, mint, or incense.) This isn’t all the way to foody... I don’t feel like I’m gaining calories just by smelling it, and it doesn’t make me feel like I’m being smothered in icing... but it does remind me of cookies, and I really like it. It’s not a sensual scent at all; I would be totally happy wearing this to work. And I’m going to wear it to work. This is way nifty.

A funereal bouquet laid on cemetery grass: longiflorum lilies, white rose, chrysanthemum, and carnation. Fresh off the wand, this is a sharp floral scent with a bit of grassiness underneath. It's a direct floral, something clear, yet slightly fading at the edges; uncompromising in itself, but not overwhelmingly so. The lily is presenting itself most strongly, but the various flowers blend together without conflict. I really can't detect the rose at all. After a bit, this starts going faintly soapy. (Well, maybe that's the rose.) The soap wanders vaguely in and out of the floral. The floral itself is pretty in a traditional way, but it just isn't attracting my attention well. Also, it vanished down to near nonexistence within two hours. I recommend this to anyone who wants a simple, traditional floral, but I'm looking for something more interesting than this.

First applied... I don’t know what to think. It’s a broad, complicated green scent, but not planty or aquatic, just... green. As is my normal wont, I turn promptly to the walkthrough (or, in this case, the scent notes). And the truth is, I still can’t make heads or tails of it. This is an incredibly complex scent. As it settles slightly on my wrist, there’s one aspect that comes out above the others, a darker green leafiness, but I can’t identify it with any confidence; I would tentatively call it blackberry leaf, but it’s blackberry listed, not blackberry. Goodness. The Lab is not making this one easy! But I do like this. Despite the description, I wouldn’t call it sensual. Instead, it’s confident and calm, without being innately calming... a quiet, slightly calculating scent. After a while, the scent deepens and the green fades, though there’s still a trace of sweetness. Further on, the sweetness blossoms and the honey is detectable over wood and amber. Interesting. This is definitely a highly metamorphic oil. The final stage it settles into is woody and musky and faintly honeyed. It clings close to my skin and doesn’t have much throw, but it’s intriguing. Actually, that’s the best word for Fazia: intriguing. I will come back and wear this scent again and be further intrigued in the future.

I was ridiculously excited about this scent, but I confess I’m not certain why. Reading the notes just convinced me that this would be a great scent for me, even though I don’t think of myself as an aquatics lover. So... this will be interesting. I hope I’m not disappointed. It is interesting, and it’s enchanting as well. It’s a bright, clean, scent that has a planty presence without being earthy. It’s definitely an aquatic, but not an overwhelmingly salty one. I can pick up the pear, but it isn’t at all fruity -- I would be willing to believe this was pear blossom instead of pear itself, because the floral aura is so strong. This is a fresh, refreshing, gorgeous summer scent, equally floral and watery. It isn’t sophisticated, but it has a simple loveliness to it that is perfect for a casual day in the park or an afternoon with friends. I’m a happy winner.

This was a freebie from the Lab, and I’ve made a point of not reviewing the scent notes for it before I test it, so let’s see what I’ve got here. Checking Wikipedia, I am reminded that Megaera is one of the Furies (commanding jealousy, envy, and infidelity), so if this is a peculiar or unpleasant scent, it won’t surprise me. It’s a light scent straight off the wand, but with a spicy undercurrent. Whatever is on top seems to be an obscure citrusy smell... nothing as simple as lemon, lime, or grapefruit, but... bergamot, perhaps, or citron. The citrus is yellow to my nose, but whatever lies underneath is broad and white, almost creamy, and then the fuzz of spice is underneath (though the spice is already fading down.) This is actually a rather nice scent, and it’s good for the summer weather, too. It makes me feel calm and collected and in control... it’s a scent that inspires confidence. How unexpected and nifty! So I finally tag the site and discover... that citrus on top would be bergamot AND grapefruit (no wonder I couldn’t place it!) and the white underneath would be the amber. I feel reasonably accomplished and fuzzy, and I’m happy with the scent as well. I will try to remember that I like this, because this scent would be great for work.

Wow! This is remarkably sharp off the wand -- a clear, concentrated scent that brushes the cobwebs straight out of my brain. The citrus is very strong, and it smells like peel instead of fruit, as there’s no sugar at all here. (To catch everybody up to speed: mikan is another name for satsuma tangerine, and yuzu is Asian grapefruit, so those are combined in the citrus that I smell in the top of this scent -- and they’re in perfect combination, since I can detect them both uniquely.) Beyond the citrus, there’s a hint of non-citrus fruit, but just a hint. After some quick research, I think I’m smelling the kaki beneath the citrus, as kaki is apparently a kind of persimmon. The cherry blossom doesn’t really have its own presence, but fills out the rest. And presence there is. This is a scent with a serious aura of command. It’s exotic, beautiful, precise, unusual, and I’m enthralled. I’m not sure that it fits its name very well, since it doesn’t strike me as a sexual scent, but it’s so gorgeous that I don’t really care. It doesn’t just refresh me -- it energizes and exhilarates me. This would be the scent to wear dancing if I just wanted to bleed as much energy as I possibly could, and it would keep me going till dawn. People talk about “big bottle” scents. Except for disasters (broken imp caps, etc) I typically don’t think, “I’m buying a big bottle of this”, because I haven’t completed any imps yet -- I wear a lot of different scents, and I’m not a slatherer. But when I get toward the end of this, I’ll be in line instantly for more. This is amazing.

This is a surprisingly green smell. I detect the grapefruit right away, but it’s layered into a light green lime scent. Interesting. After a moment, it goes into a misty, ethereal state. It’s very high-pitched. Shortly after, it disintegrated into a thin, gray, chemical smell. I am supremely disappointed. I reapplied, just in case I could convince it to stay around this time. I like it very much straight off the wand -- it’s a melange of interesting fruit that isn’t foody, but has a floral/perfumey overtone instead. After only a minute, again, the scent dissolves into high-pitched mist, and I have a sinking feeling. Shortly after, it’s back to that gray chemical state. There’s the faintest glimmer of lime still hovering over it... but not enough, not by a long shot. I can only conclude that something in my skin chemistry is innately wrong for this scent. What a disappointment.

Apple! Oh, my, that’s lovely -- the first whiff is a strong, bright blast of apple like a crisp Golden Delicious that has just been cut open. This is definitely a golden apple scent, not a red one or a green one. Given a moment, the scent broadens and relaxes. I detect a trace of non-apple underneath the apple -- faint hints of wood and floral -- but the apple is sufficiently strong that it’s really all I can identify. And it has great endurance, and it isn’t metamorphosing on me... yay! Big yay! This is a light, refreshing apple scent that I readily commend to apple-lovers. The Hesperides is a great name for the scent, but an equally good one would have been “Idun’s Apples”, for the apples that gave youth to the Aesir in Norse mythology.

Spicy. Interesting! Freshly applied, this manifests on my skin into a spicy, warm wood with just a breath of coolness underneath. It strikes me as distinctly masculine from the very beginning (drat). It isn’t a sensual smell at all -- just a warm smell. It makes me smile, though... there’s something innately comforting about it. (The tonka, maybe?) I really can’t identify any individual notes in this. It’s just a warm, masculine smell, and, despite reviewing the notes, I can’t pick a single one out. Like many of the Lab’s creations, it takes disparate elements and coaxes them into chimaerical coherence. Later on, the benzoin and lime come out, and the woodiness fades out. Oddly, it’s still warm-smelling -- that must be the tonka. Despite all the leafy ingredients, it doesn’t smell leafy. Odd. Lysander is nice, but I really can’t see myself wearing it. I’d recommend it for men who want to project an aura of friendliness without any associated allure... and that’s about it. (Of course, I have a few scents that I wear for exactly that reason -- 13 in particular -- but I don’t feel I’m the right gender for this one.)

... Offerings of milk, honey and sweet grains were made to placate these creatures, and it is that the basis of the scent created in their name. This is a highly popular scent, so I'm interested to see how this goes. It's underappealing on the wand, with that faintly Play-Dohish scent that I associate with skin musk. Once applied, though, this doesn't have the murkiness of skin musk scents -- there's a faint layer of it, but the milk flows above it in a clear, sweet vein, and there's a shimmering hint of honey above the milk. In fact, almost immediately, the little bit of murkiness I detect fades out. What remains is startlingly subtle. I need to be within two inches to smell it recognizably. Any farther away, and there's nothing there. (I used to use a honey-scented soap that was a bit like this, actually. Not Lush, but a miscellaneous brand that I picked up in an Asian market.) And that's it, for the moment. It's... subtle. Really subtle. I'm going to give it some more time and see if it does something interesting. It's a bit less subtle now, but still hardly obtrusive. I see why Alice lovers like this: it has that same "I've been in a milk bath" quality. Alice seemed a bit sour on me the first time, while Dana O'Shee doesn't, but I liked the flowers and innocence stage of Alice, and Dana O'Shee doesn't have an equivalent. It would be a tossup if Dana O'Shee weren't so reclusive, but darnit, have some presence! I'll come back to this another time and see if I like it better.

This is one of only two Lab scents that claims to have a coffee facet (the other being Miskatonic University.) I would love to smell like the inside of a coffeeshop; with this many floral notes, it won’t happen here, but I’m giving it a whirl anyway. It sounds like fun. Fresh on, this is a bouquet of lush, thick flowers in wild magenta shades. Jasmine blooms out all over my arm, but the roses keep it from smelling white -- there’s far too much rose, and it’s not a pure, pristine white rose, but a sultry dark red one. Instead, it’s just brilliant and startling -- the olfactory equivalent of being eyecatching. This is fantastic, and it has huge presence. I think it may be a bit overpowering for the summer, but it’s flamboyant and sensual and flowing and coiling -- perfect for a scent named after a dancer. After a bit, the warmth and the jasmine vanish, which is sad -- I liked the humid hothouse flower fullness of it. The end result is surprisingly chill and distant. It’s still pretty, but... nowhere near as appealing. I was drawn to this smell for its wildness and warmth. More time passes, and it’s almost all rose now. The jasmine is gone; the roses are white, if not silver, and quite cold. I can detect a trace of wood underneath, finally, but it’s only a trace. The jasmine reappears after a while longer, which is a bit of a relief. (I swear half of the Lab's scents need buttons reading "I Metamorphose Strangely Without Warning.") It’s not as wild and overwhelming as it was at first, but much nicer than when it went all cold. I could live without that intermediate flash, which was such a sharp disappointment, but it lasted less than half an hour, and I’m perfectly willing to accept it for the beginning and end results.

I already know (based on compulsively sniffing someone else’s wrist) that Shub-Niggurath can be warm and sexy and marvelous, but I haven’t tried it on myself yet, so I’m very curious about how this will work on me. On the wand, it’s almost a little bit foody -- it has this broad, spicy appeal. In fact, as it sinks in a bit further, it becomes downright foody. I’m picking up cake and wood and spice. It isn’t offensive cake (my skin has this habit of sending raiding parties raging CAAAAKE! across my arm at the littlest provocation) but it’s cakey. Hmm. As a general rule, I’ve found that I don’t go much for wearing food scents, and this doesn’t seem to be an exception -- I like food scents on other people, but they seem out of place on me. (Has anyone else claimed Shub is foody? Is this just a weirdness of mine? I don’t remember it being cakey on my prior victim.) The cake scent backs off after a while, yielding a warm glow of myrrh. It’s like Priala’s spiced brother, but I like the little pyro herself better when I’m the one wearing it. Without a direct comparision, I can’t be certain, but I have the impression that Priala has more lasting power on me. The spice comes out further and the myrrh backs off as I wait. I like this a lot... but I’d like it far better if I weren’t the one wearing it. Like Dorian and Severin, this scent just wants to be worn on somebody else. Drat.

The first whiff off the wand was a dark, unsweet, artificial chocolate scent, causing me to quail for a moment. On my wrist, however, the oil seemed much less artificial, and I started picking cherry up from under the chocolate, though the chocolate remained dominant. No wonder people say this is a Valentine scent. This is the most pleasant chocolate scent I’ve met from the Lab, save perhaps 13 -- and it’s a much truer chocolate than 13, which is a broad blend. I certainly wouldn’t have placed it into Rappacini’s Garden myself, since it’s barely planty at all, but it’s good stuff. There might be a trace of some sweet flower above the cherry, but it’s only a trace. As the chocolate slowly fades, the cherry comes in stronger. This is... well, for lack of a better word, tasty. I’m not much for food scents, but I could make an exception here. It doesn’t fit its name at all, but I like this scent. I don’t think I’ll want to wear it much in the summer, but it will be wonderful for fall.

Initially, Bewitched smells like broken plant stems. It’s a very genuine, believable smell, which interests me -- I like the believable scents. While I can detect blackberry underneath, the blackberry is much more subdued than the plantiness. After a few minutes, traces of sweetness begin manifesting, and I do detect floral threads twining about the blackberry. Interesting. The blackberry grows stronger, and it acquires a slight foody quality, though nothing overwhelming. I suppose it’s due to the musk. I like this. It could be richer, but it’s not bad as it is. I admit that it reminds me faintly of air freshener, but nice air freshener. The broken plant stems have faded away entirely, and it’s all berries now, mostly strawberry and blackberry. It’s nice -- a comfortable, nonthreatening, undemanding scent. It doesn’t demand attention, but it makes me feel calm inside my skin, which isn’t a bad trait to have. Over time, the remaining berry scent becomes a bit artificial and chemical, which is disappointing, but that’s the scent of the direct application point rather than the throw. Good enough.

This is extremely woodsy at first, with frankincense floating over the top. I’m not immediately enamored, but mints don’t particularly appeal to me, and the frankincense is getting stronger by the moment. It stays minty. I point out to the scent that it isn’t supposed to be sheerly minty, and that there are, in fact, a variety of things it could smell like. It remains mostly minty. The woodsiness I first noted has gained a thin layer of dirt (which would be the patchouli) underneath, but the three strongest notes are frankincense, frankincense, and frankincense. The frankincense finally fades back a bit, and now exists in a decent balance of wood and mint. This is distinctive enough that it would make an interesting signature scent for someone (someone who really, really likes mint), but it really does nothing for me personally. It isn’t actively repelling me, but it has no appeal.

You know, I read the scent notes. I really did. Based on the scent notes, I thought this ought to be all shimmery and floral. I don’t know what to say, because my experience was far from it. The scent off the wand is downright unpleasant -- I had one of those balking moments where I asked myself, "Am I really going to put this on my wrist?" The answer is "yes, yes I am, but I hope it doesn’t linger on my keyboard." The Lab is metamorphic enough that I’m curious... and if it stays unpleasant, then I don’t have to keep wearing it. Sheol is severely weird. It smells a bit like root beer and a bit like red musk, and it tingles in my nose. There is no upper layer -- it exists solely as a warm, dark medium quality. It’s animalistic, and not in a good way -- there’s a faintly sweet undercurrent that reminds me of bagged rabbit droppings. Smelling my wrist makes me cringe on some inner level. I’m convinced already that Sheol isn’t going to do anything that I’m going to like. I’m giving it another ten minutes to be on the safe side... but if it hasn’t sorted itself out in ten minutes, then I’m done, because I’m not enduring this for more than ten minutes. After ten minutes, in addition to its prior bizarrities, Sheol has developed an undercurrent that smells just like Ivory soap. The longer I wait, the soapier it gets, and I can’t help considering this a huge improvement over what it smelled like before. That’s the first time I’ve been happy about a scent going soapy. I’m all done here. ...except that I wasn't. It lingered on my desk for well over a week from where I rubbed my wrists on it as I typed. URGH.

Opium Poppy is a lush, shadowy smell. Something smells a bit medicinal in the blend. When I was growing up, there was a white-flowered bush outside my house that smelled quite similar to a medicine I once took for pneumonia, and this has a similar lush-but-medicinal quality. It’s ebbing slowly toward a shadowy white aura. I remember this from BPAL’s Languor, though Opium Poppy isn’t having the same psychosomatic pull of exhaustion upon me that Languor did. Inevitably, Opium Poppy just lacks allure for me. It’s all shadows and no flash... all dreams, and no substance.

This is a scent that I have been meaning to try for some time. (Grapefruit and apple are among my favorite notes. I’m really looking forward to this.) Initially, this is fruity, but sharp. It’s like smelling the grated rind of a grapefruit with a pile of apple peels in the background. The apples fade after a moment, but the grapefruit remains. This is clear, high-pitched, and unsubtle: a bolt of grapefruit to the brain. (Side note: I found myself suddenly wondering why we call grapefruit "grapefruit" when they have nothing to do with grapes. It turns out that grapefruit trees grow their fruit in clusters, and that unripe grapefruit on the branch -- when coupled with a vivid imagination -- looks something like giant bunches of grapes. Or so claims the Internet. And now I know.) This is not a single-note scent; if I concentrate, I can pick up the complexity, but it all supports the white grapefruit. The tea is slightly under it; it’s a very similar tea to that found in Embalming Fluid. The ginger is a faint tingle, and the apple keeps it from being too sharp. Everything revolves around the grapefruit. This is undeniably a great grapefruit scent, but I’m just not thrilled by it. I think it’s because it seems very aloof and reserved... it’s a cold, tense, calculating scent. I would like to have a bit more of the apple manifest, as I think it would reduce the ice wall that this scent projects. Maybe I should experiment with layering Baobhan Sith and Poisoned Apple... hmm.

I have no idea how to pronounce the name of this, and I have a strong tendency to mix it up with Tenochtitlan and Tezcatlipoca... not because any of them have similar notes, but because they all fall into "Another Aztec perfume" in my head. I need to remember that Tezcatlipoca is the one I don’t own and want instead of repeatedly trying to buy Tenochtitlan. Anyway... Xiuhtecuhtli is quite sweet, but not in a sugary fashion. It’s sweet like the scent of sweet flowers. The orange is dominant, with a layer of something vanilla-ish below. The flowers are there as well, but it isn’t a flowery perfume -- they just bolster the rest. I thought the smoke would come out, but it never does. I never manage to pick any note out that I recognize as incense or smoke (but I’m not complaining.) After an hour, this is a light, clean-smelling citrus bolstered softly by the fragrance of tropical blossoms and the faintest touch of rain. And after two hours, it’s almost entirely gone. Xiuhtecuhtli doesn’t fit its name at all -- slaughter, fire, light... not a chance. It doesn’t have a very strong identity (actually, I find myself wanting to buy Xiuhtecuhtli-scented hair conditioner) but there’s nothing bloody or hostile about it at all. This is a lovely, refreshing summer scent.

Unsurprisingly, this is very woody, but I do not know the various woods apart from one another, and I cannot be certain which is dominant. One is green and higher in the nose; the others run beneath the Snake Oil core. There is something underneath everything that is like a cocoa note, and something above both that is lemony. In the middle of it all is the familiar, difficult-to-describe scent of Snake Oil itself. The lemony note grows as Habu wears on me. It reminds me a bit of Cairo, actually; like Cairo, it is lemony without beng brilliant yellow. This is lemon and wood sorted out in layers with the finest powdering of cocoa underneath. It strikes me as a good autumn scent, something to wear when the leaves are turning colors and starting to fall, but it doesn’t fit well with the spring. After half an hour or so, the scent fades a bit, and the throw is pretty much Snake Oil. The lemon and cocoa back out entirely. (I know that neither is listed in the Lab’s scent notes, but I can’t figure out which notes these really are, so everyone else will have to suffer through my indistinctness.) I can pick up the woodiness still, but only close in. This seems to be typical of the Snake Oil blends; however, since the overwhelming characteristic of Snake Oil is its reliable durability. Later: the lemon and cocoa manifest in the throw, but they are still invisible to my nose close up. How very odd. In the end... all I can think of this as is "another Snake Oil scent". It’s good, but indistinct.

On the wand, this is fruity, full, and honeyed. On my skin, the fruit is still there, but a spicy edge manifests briefly. After only a moment, the spice melts away, dissolving into a creamy, faintly floral torrent of scent. This is very, very nice. It’s reminiscent of peaches, not juicy, fruity peaches, but a pale peach-blossom mist of fragrance. I wouldn’t blink for a moment if cream accord were on the list; this scent has a very full, voluptuous feeling that fits in well. Historically, skin musk goes evil on me, so I braced a bit for disappointment -- but there isn’t a trace of evil. This is just flowing and beautiful and languid. It mutes down rapidly, but maintains a throw about three inches out. It doesn’t wear off quickly, it doesn’t mutate, and it doesn’t go evil. I am very pleased with this scent. I think the one thing balking me from liking this more than I do is that its identity could be stronger. It is beautiful, undeniably, but I could not pick it reliably out of a list or recognize it on the air. Nonetheless, it is enchanting, and I’m definitely coming back to this again.

For a moment, this smelled like root beer on the wand. I still have something like root beer underneath the rest of the scent -- a noteable sassafras tang. Mostly, it’s a broad, warm scent that I can barely recognize as a floral at first. Given a moment, it remembers its floral nature and blossoms into something pale and white above the speckled brown-and-crimson base. This is strange, but I’m not quite complaining. It smells wild and warm and spicy and sassafrassy. If I didn’t know it was lily, I wouldn’t recognize it -- there’s just a mist of faint lily floating above the rest. But it’s good. I can do this scent. This is a calm, coiled scent with a lazy smile. It fits female better than male, but it’s not feminine as such. It’s sexy, but it doesn’t care if you don’t care. I like the vibe it gives me. Later on, it goes a bit perfumey and alcohol-tinged, which is sad, but it doesn’t become unpleasant -- it just loses that appealing sultry quality. On the whole, I like this.