Juushika

In the vial: Surprisingly sweet, almost Jack-waxy pumpkin. On me: Goes on strong pumpkin, midway between earthy and waxy, with something chemically sweet in the throw. The waxiness of the pumpkin dies off during drydown, leaving behind an understand and earthy pumpkin rind. There's a chemical/medicinal/herbal note at the heart of this blendfennel and spices and licoriceand I just ... don't like it. Most rooibos I've encountered is an herbal equivalent to red musk, but I get nothing of that warmth and color hereit's just a spiced, curried pumpkin. Verdict: Pumpkin Masala Roobios is effective as a non-sweet, non-traditional spicy pumpkinherbs and unusual spices over a savory pumpkin base. But the spices always seem a little off and unpleasant to my nose, and I just find nothing to like here, none of the warmth I was expecting, nothing palatable in the blend. I'll trade away my decant.

In the vial: Dark, a bit bitter, a bit dry. On me: The bitterness blossoms as this hits the skin—clove and orris root, maybe, a dark sharp scent. The musk comes out with drydown and the bitterness fades; the scent transforms into a warm, dark spice with a red/purple shift. It's a dense, dark scent that hovers close to the skin, spicy and hot, a bit powdery, musk with clove thorns, sensual and dangerous in the same scent. Throw and wear length are both fairly low. Verdict: I'm not head over heels, but I am solidly won over. The Moon Gazed on My Midnight Labours is what I would expect from the notes, dark and warm and spicy; it doesn't try to play nice by offering up any sort of sweetness (even though musk is usually sweet on my skin), but is gorgeous in its own right. I expect it will age well, too. I'll hold on to my decant, but I don't think I need a bottle.

In the vial: Warm, citric amber. On me: It goes on as orange zest—the bright, volatile, almost bitter oils of orange peel—over amber. Much of the orange, in particular its brightness, dies off with drydown; what's left behind is a faint, warm amber, slightly powdery and slightly vanillic, perhaps a bit floral, touched by orange. It's a pale, light, warm scent, glowing rather than shining; it has almost a white cocoa sense to it, a more-than-skin-scent atmosphere of gentle and pale but distinct sweetness. (Bourbon vanilla usually goes dark and dirty on me; if the sweetness is just vanilla, it's much whiter than I'm used to.) Scent color is opaque, pastel orange. Throw is gentle but surprisingly high. Verdict: A Wonderful Light is reminiscent of Khrysee, but drier and more pristine than Khyrsee's fleshy amber; it's also reminiscent of a white chocolate Gelt, sweet and powdery and dry. It's perfectly pleasant but doesn't move me—the scent texture is too dry, and it's a little too sweet for my taste, and I don't need to own it.

An old, dried-out empty; I don't know how representative it is of the true oil. In the vial: A familiar fruity sweetness; light, sweet, not too full-bodied. On me: The same light fruity sweetness, eventually tempering out with a bit of herbs or teaeither way a drier, more herbal scentand losing the aggressive sweetness which could easily be white chocolate. The fruit remains, tangerine with a touch of mandarin but not much currant, a light and bright fruit, not juicy but aromatic. The scent doesn't last long, an hour or three. Verdict: Nothing to write home about, but then I'm not a fan of white chocolate or predominant fruits. This is a light, bright, colorful sort of scent; the initial sweetness is a bit oppressive, but without it the scent is just straightforward, if pleasant, bright fruits. It's not to my taste, and not something I need to seek out in any quantity.

In the vial: Sharp, warm, slightly medicinal; I feel like I should be able to name the note, but can't. On me: Powdery amber and rose as it hits the skinwhich does not bode well, as my skin loves rose a bit too much. As it dries down, there's a medicinal edgeperhaps bergamot, but more herbal and dry. It casts a sharp, herbal shadow over an otherwise traditional spectrum of amber and rose accompanied by musk and sandalwood, and there's also a touch of warmth in the saffron. Until this point the rose stays in check, but post-drydown it peers its head up and then there's no stopping it: next it's a powdery, tame rose with a backing of herbs and warmth; then it grows into rose, rose, just rose, fleshy and red and especially potent in the throw. Verdict: Blame my skin, which almost always amps rose to terrifying levels. What Bagdad is until that happens is only okay, but I honestly can't judge the true nature of this scent. This is one for the swaps.

In the vial: I'd hazard sandalwood, orris, and muskit's a familiar scent but hard to name, brown and organic. On me: Goes on cologney and sweet, and has a frankly unlikable drydown period which takes too much from the coconut and hardly matches the description. When it does dry down, this is a barely sweet, fuzzy brown scentmore orris, sandalwood, and husk than musk, so there's not much of rats or mice here and instead the scent leans a bit vegetative; it's not as powdery as I had expected, but the coconut husk in particular well matches the scent-texture promised in the description. Scent-color is a moderate brown, not too dark or saturated. Throw is moderate. Verdict: I get almost nothing in the way of musk or incense, but I want them thereI think they'd provide welcome balance and darkness to the scent, and lean it back towards animalic instead of vegetative. What I get from Brown Jenkin instead is only okayI like it, but not nearly as much as I want to. I'll hang onto my imp for now and hope that aging brings out those other notes and improves the scent.

In the vial: Warm, golden, sweet, with a touch of boozy fruit. On me: Spice as it hits the skin, over a rich round peach; initially, this scent is round, bright, golden, and fruity counterpointed by a spicy, smoky warmththere's something exotic about it, perhaps in the incense, and it's lovely. The fruitiness amps during drydown, and cinnamon triumphs over the clove, patchouli, and incense; the scent resolves to something pretty much matching the description, a bright, thick, sweep, warm fruity scent rouged with red spices, but it lacks the dark counterpoint of clove et a. Scent color is golden, yellow and red. Throw and wear length are both moderate. Verdict: I want the cloves, patchouli, and incense to stick around. They're what makes the scent a successthe contrast they give to the bright fruits is tried and true but no less brilliant for that, and the incense gives a unique and exotic edge. But those notes die off, and what they leave behind is just cinnamon over fruit; it's vivid but lacks depth, and is too bright and fruity for my tastes. All in all this isn't a keeper, however promising its initial stages.

In the vial: Thin and sweet. On me: There's a strange fruitiness in this as it hits the skin, and it develops smokiness on drydown. It's a smooth but strong smoke over just a hint of something white and vaguely sweet: what it says on the tin, but I underestimated just how burnt it would be. The crusty exterior is a smooth, practiced vetiver, and the marshmallow beneath is surprisingly full-bodied with that lingering impression of fruit, but the combination lacks punchI think the marshmallow wants more sweetness, to sell itself and to contrast against the smoke. Scent-color is gray. Throw is low. Verdict: The Gorobble has more smoke than I expected, but I can rearrange my expectations to accommodate itbut even when I do, it doesn't quite work for me. The marshmallow beneath isn't quite convincing, and the contrast between fluffy sweetness and burnt exterior isn't as dynamic as I want. It's not bad, but I keep retesting and waiting for the scent to win my heart, and it's just not happening. One for the swaps.

In the vial: Fruitiness (cherry?) and chocolateof the El Dia de los Reyes variety, powdery and milky. On me: Starts out a bit bitterwhipped butter, not sweet enough to be icing, with a ghost of red fruitiness and a bare implication of powdery chocolate. It takes about half an hour for the scent to grow into what it's meant to be: a sugary milk chocolate haze, with a touch of powder and a hint of cherry, and some buttery richness at skin level. The chocolate is akin to the cocoa in El Dia de los Reyes. It's pretty accurate but not particularly enjoyablethis isn't handmade buttercream; it's a tub of premading frosting. Scent-color is milk chocolate. Throw is moderate to high. Verdict: I hate milk chocolate and dislike frosting, so even at its best it's unlikely that Milk Chocolate Buttercream would have worked for me. Post-drydown, the scent is pretty accuratebut personal taste aside, it doesn't quite have the luscious indulgent quality I'd expect; the chocolate leans powdery, the butter can be stale, I have no idea where the cherry comes from, but most of all it doesn't have a handmade, high-quality buttercream feel. This is a one for the swaps, in the hope that it'll work better on someone else.

In the vial: The dark scent of leaf litter and smoke. On me: Resins and saffron come out on application, followed by smoke and clove—and then dead leaves, and a touch of floral. It's a spicy, dark, organic scent, cloves and leaf litter, warm and smoky, with something almost citric, golden and sweet, at its heart. The citric/floral note makes for a more wearable scent, and well compliments the clove, but it also makes The Death of Autumn less deep and dark than it original appears, which is a little disappointing. After a few hours the scent grows more traditionally dark sweet autumnal BPAL: the cloves fade and there's a boozy wetness, dark and resinous and sweet; it's lovely, but not nearly as unique. Scent-color is golden brown. Throw is moderate high, and wear length is long. Verdict: The Death of Autumn goes on as a thing of beauty, a dark walk in an autumn forest, resinous and organic, smoky and spicy—but it loses itself along the way. The golden heat it develops is lovely, but not as dark and bold as its earlier stages; the resinous sweetness it has near the end is pretty traditional BPAL, dark and palatable, but familiar. Its not a bad scent on the whole, but I'm sad to see it morph. Still I think I'll keep it, and try to adjust my expectations to enjoy the bulk of the scent rather than mourning the loss of its drydown.

In the vial: Clean, dry woodiness with a hint of fruit/floral. On me: A thin, woody, masculine scent. When it goes on it's just barely touched by berry, but the berry amps during drydownwhich may be a product on my skin chemistry. It's a dry red scent, masculine, just a touch sweet, blonde wood and berrybut still redder and fuller than I'd expect from the inspiration: the berry is strong and out of place. At times there's a slight cologne-y aspect. Scent-color is luminescent red. Throw is moderate low, and wear length is short. Verdict: My skin loves berry a little too much, and that may be what sours Elf for me. It's too vibrant, too red, overshadowing the other notes and deviating from the inspiration. Regardless, this scent isn't my style. I'll pass along my imp.

The 2011 issue. In the vial: Spicy and almost fruity. On me: That hint of fruit persistsalthough it could be the full body of the booze, it almost has an apple vibe. There's some spicy musk hiding beneath and a distinct sweetness floating above, but the scent is remarkably smooth; I get nothing of the fires or spice I was expecting. This is akin to what I imagined Smut would be (except that Smut is unremarkable on my skin): smooth, sweet, carmelized, dark, warm, with just a touch of musk. Scent color is a dark, limpid brown. Throw is moderate high; wear length song. Verdict: I think I would like Devil's Night more if I hadn't expected something a little darker, smokier, and threatening; as it is it's almost too nice, warm and round and treading the line between sexy and playful. But if I look beyond my preconceptions, Devil's Night is pretty nice. The liquid boozy/fruity vibe isn't quite my style, but it's wearable and enticing. I'll hold onto my impand hope that with aging I may like it even more.

In the vial: A thin scent of dead leaves. On me: The musk/vanilla/cocoa/amber combination comes out when it hits the skin, followed by dead leaves. Once drydown is said and done, this is dead leaves on the skin, spicy dark organic and easily the strongest leaves I've had the chance to smell from BPAL, and a pale sweetish white cocoa in the throw, a lighter and more predictable scent which is almost but not quite foody. It has an impression of candied leaf litterand who knew that could be so lovely? because it is. Unfortunately it develops a cloying note within a few hours off wear, which isn't quite enough to sour the scent but comes close. Verdict: This is one to retest, to see if the cloying end note shows up each time. I'll be disappointed if it does, because Sonnet d'Autome is otherwise beautiful. It's the sort of unique scent I look for from BPAL: miles from a traditional perfume, evocative, unusual, but wearable.

In the vial: A light and airy apple cider. On me: This is surprisingly light when it goes on, a faint fruitiness with a touch of boozy fermentation and some sweetness, mostly an impression of light cider but not the scent itself. Post-drydown it gets strongerthe apple becomes more distinct, and this is a mild, warm, golden, thin apple cider. I never get much of the spices, but there is a hint of butterscotch. I was curious about Autumn Cider's similarity to Fearful Pleasure, and on my skin it's Fearful Pleasure's lighter and slightly foodier cousinwhere FP is backed up by dark woods, this has a glowing golden cast. Despite the absence of spices, it's accurate to the description: autumn cider, indeed. Throw is moderate, and wear length is long. Verdict: Autumn Cider is just what it says on the tin, but it's a little too light and simple for meI wish I got the spices. It and Fearful Pleasure are different scents, but there's a family resemblance and I prefer Fearful Pleasure's darkness, so I'll stick with that.

In the vial: ....floral? On me: Goes on as a dusty, dull, pastel floral. The rose opens up during drydown and only continues to ampas rose always does on mebut the other flowers add a powdery note on top, which softens but never quite complicates the rose. Not at all dark, this has a pinkish old-guest-soap-by-the-sink feel, a little powdery, a little grandmaish. Verdict: Rose is one of my death notes and predominant florals aren't my style, so of course this doesn't work. The other notes keep the rose from attaining screaming levels on my skin, but this is still all rose all the time. One for the swaps.

In the vial: Smoky lavender. On me: Goes on the skin with vetiver up frontthe sharp sort, not the smooth sort, more like cinders than smokewith a bit of almost sweet white musk in the background and lavender in the middle. The vetiver calms during drydown and then ramps up again in the first hour or two, giving the scent a warmer, more potent, and more threatening vibe, but on the whole this is a surprisingly lovely, subtly masculine, powdery floral. The florals (the violet comes out after drydown, and violet and lavender meld together) have a purple cast and a dried blossom feel; their slight powderyness makes Bluebeard more than another cologne scent. It's not a particularly complex blend, but the notes work in lovely tandem. At the tail end of wear it grows a little more like cologne, which is too badnot because it's a strong shift, but because it strips away what makes the scent unique. Throw is low, wear length is about four hours. Verdict: Well done, surprisingly subtle, unique, but not my styleBluebeard doesn't capture my imagination or my heart. It was nice to try, and now it's destined for swaps.

In the vial: Aquatic with a half floral, half salty edge. On me: A smooth and stable scent of warm salty water with a floral edge that's almost tropical but not quite perfumey. It barely dries down, doesn't morphthe experience of wearing the scent is as much a match to the description as the scent itself. The fullness of the floral balances out the crystalline salt, and the result is smooth as a glass sea, a calm and practiced aquatic. Throw is moderate to low and wear length is moderate. Verdict: Sea of Glass is an accomplishment, but hasn't won my heart. It well suits the description, but its fleshy floral fullness—despite evening out and opening up the scentisn't to my personal taste; I'd prefer a saltier, sharper water. Objectively speaking, however, this is beautifully done.

In the vial: I'm not suresomething clean, or like cleaning fluid, and almost citrus but not quite? And as I continue to sniff, tobacco. I don't even know. On me: Tobacco as it hits the skinand this is what I least want from the scent, but it's a gentler tobacco than I'm used to, more akin to vetiver than stale cigarettes. There may be leather in the background. And then the carnation comes out, and this is fantastic. The tobacco is welcome now, and while I don't get coffee or leather distinctly they help too; those dark notes provide background and shading to compliment the carnation, and make for the darkest, strongest, spiciest carnation that I've ever encountered. A spicy dark red scent, brick-toned but with a powdery-the-way-spices-are-powdery texture, a touch smoky, not masculine but leaning towards gender neutral without losing any sensuality. Throw is fairly low, but the scent begs fairly heavy application so it can wrap itself around the skin. Wear length is moderate to long. Verdict: Without overselling The Ta-Ta, this is the carnation that I've always wanted, spicy and dark as dried red petals, shadowed and deep, well complimented by other notes without being forced to share the spotlight, and beautiful. It's my holy grail for one of my favorite notes, so I'm glad I tried it despite being dubious about both tobacco and leather, and I see a bottle in my futureyes indeed I do.

In the vial: Medicinal, a bit spicy, a bit sweet, a hint of smoke. On me: Blood/dragon's blood in color and warmth, vetiver/tobacco in smokyness, and a touch of pepperish spice. It's surprisingly warm, especially in the throw, and has a certain lightness within—laudanum maybe, or linen, a bit sweet, pale; it opens up the scent. It reminds me of a remixed The Tell-Tale Heart, and not just because of the Poe connection, but the pale note hiding within makes it unique. Unfortunately at the one hour mark it's already faded to a ghost of that pale scent touched with a hint of spice and smoke. Scent-color is ... well better just to say that this evokes the moonlit red and black landscape of the description. Throw is moderate dying down to low, and wear length is short. Verdict: Beautifully realized, perfectly to my taste, and also heartbreaking—it hurts to see something so wonderful fade so quickly. Luckily I get enough similarity to The Tell-Tale Heart that I can just turn to that blend instead, but if Blood Moon had more staying power then I would probably want a bottle of it, too.

In the vial: Salty and slightly dark/organic water. On me: The word I want to use is brackish—a pure aquatic, impressively salty, with a dark, organic element. The description is indeed so spot on that there's not much else to say about the scent, except some congratulations may be in order. Over time the black water recedes and are purer, slightly more crystalline salt water comes to the fore. Throw is moderate, dying down to low; wear length is about four hours, but the scent fades dramatically at its tail end. Verdict: Ameles Potamos is too unique a scent to be called straightforward, but it's exactly what it says on the tin: black waters touched with salt, pure but deep, utterly convincing. I don't know how I like it as a perfume, but I admire it as a concept. For a while now I've wanted a scent that reminds me of crying, and this is a beautiful interpretation of such—so I think I'll keep it around, and scratch that want off my list.

In the vial: Mostly a sense of darkness. Some oudh, but precise notes mostly escape me; a slightly scratchy, slightly floral/fruit, dark scent. On me: When it first goes on this is currant in the throw, red and fruity, and something darker against the skin, with a powdery/incense bent. The currant dies to reasonable levels during drydown (although there's occasional overstrong hits of it in the throwbut to be fair, currant amps on me), contributing a fruity fullness, but the color is purple now, dark, over a smoky/powdery base of musk and incense. There's a very clear sense of color from this scent, and it's all purple. The vague powderiness atop all that color creates a slight candle/soap vibe, and however vivid and clearly conveyed that dusky violet don't make for a particularly deep or nuanced perfume (I wish I got more dark musk, or something else that would ground and deepen the scent), but its not unpleasant. Throw is moderate low, wear length is moderate long, mostly due to a lingering skin level perfumeyness. Verdict: A Nocturnal Reverie isn't unpleasant, but neither is it winning my heart. I have a fondness for scents which are classifiable by color, and so this helps to scratch a purple itch, but it lacks depth overall and that background hint of candle/soap isn't my style. Aging may help bring out the darker notes that would counterbalance all the color, but on the whole I think this is destined for swaps.

In the vial: A sweet, airy, Jack-esque pumpkin. On me: The pumpkin's earthiness comes out as this hits the skin. Initially, Pumpkin Princess is surprisingly spicy and pumpkin-y, darker, drier, and not as sweet as I was expecting, but never heavy. There's some amber warmth and a dusting of sweetness, and perhaps a touch of extra fruitiness (currant, I think), but those are subtle; the pumpkin is predominant. A warm, sweet, dark-toned, full-bodied scent. The sweetness comes out as it wears, and the pumpkin grows less earthy, tending towards Jack's pumpkin but without the waxiness. Unfortunately, the scent develops a certain fruity/floral perfumeyness at its tail end (about three hours in), which may be what others are calling tropical but to my nose seems pretty much a generic perfume. Scent-color is a glowing golden orange. Throw is moderate low, and wear length is moderate. Verdict: I love Pumpkin Princess upon application—its a warm, welcoming pumpkin scent, but errs towards the raw honey side of the other notes: its sweetness is gentle instead of cloying, and there's something earthy and warm in its golden fruits. But it conforms to expectations more and more as it wears, and I don't love that as much—the glowing golden pumpkin is pretty nice, but the tendency towards perfumeyness isn't my style. All in all a wash-up; I'll keep this around and retest it, but I'm not won over yet.

In the vial: A familiar cologney smell that I can't name. Woods? Linen? On me: Bourbon vanilla as it goes on the skin, almost as dark and dirty as tobacco. About ten minutes later, an earthy pumpkin emerges, spicy and earthy, made that much darker by the bourbon vanilla. The scent has a surprising sweetness, thick and dark but not quite cloying, and a certain perfumey quality, especially in the throw. The background hides a dry/cologne note, somewhere between blonde wood and linen, which makes the scent a little airy and counteracts the dark spice of the pumpkinand I don't love it for that. Throw is surprisingly high, and wearlength is incrediblebut many hours in The Changling morphs into a pure perfumey, fruit-touched, insistent sweetness. Verdict: I quite like The Changling for an hour of two, when the pumpkin emergesthe lean towards rind makes it dark, spicy, earthy, unique and quite lovely. But the occasional off note in the background keeps me from falling in love, and bourbon vanilla does its best to run away with the scent. For a few hours it's fine, casting a dark sweet dirty shadow over the scent, but the almost-cloying perfume that it becomes at the tail end of wear is frankly offputtingso much so that I washed it off. Aging may help the notes settle, and I'll hang on to my decant, but this is is more than a miss than a hit for me so far.

In the vial: Chocolate and vetiver. The cocoa absolute is thick, dark, and almost impossible to reintegrate into the oil. On me: A hit of chocolate on the skin, which burns off to leave behind a beautiful mellow darkness—patchouli and ash (which leans towards full-on smoke as the scent wears) with a touch of warmth from the hay and pepper. The cocoa gives some lingering dark color and a bit of sweetness, with occasional appearances as an actual chocolate note, Boomslang-dark and beautiful—a pleasant surprise, as cocoa absolute usually vanishes on my skin. The Seekim already feels aged: it's warm and dark, smooth as smoke with slight powdery ashiness and a pepper kick, and beautiful beyond words. Scent-color is a deep smoked brown. Throw is moderate low, wear length is fairly long. Verdict: I'm in love. Bless that I get nothing of the lemon others report, because The Seekim is a dream come true on my skin. The notes meld together into a rich dark warmth, more distinctly cocoa than I was expecting but far from foody. I may have to spring for a full bottle, because I think this will age like a dream—and I want to find out.

In the vial: Sweetish green sap with fruity undertones. On me: Goes on as the outdoors—winter trees with a touch of dirt and green sap; warm, organic, but late season. There's some smoke in the background, warming up the organics, and pumpkin underneath, warm and round and orange-gold. As it dries down, it grows sweeter—not quite candy, although there may be a touch of it there, but a maple, sappy, organic sweetness, sticky and thick. The smoke and warmth dissipates, leaving a cooler-weather scent, but there's still some fruitiness, plenty of pumpkin and perhaps a touch of apple, to provide body. In both forms, Halloween: Montreal reminds me of Samhain—it's in the same family certainly: seasonal, outdoorsy but touched by foody elements, sappy and sweet. Montreal leans green and orange (pine sap, maple, pumpkin) where Samhain leans black and red (pine forests, apple), and Montreal lacks some of Samhain's complexity (I miss the smoke and spice of the earlier stages of the scent), but it well suits the description. Throw is moderate, but the oil is potent—it just takes a drop, and wear-length is going strong so far. Verdict: As noted, I prefer the complexity of the scent's earlier stages. But the similarity to Samhain is telling—like Samhain, Montreal evokes human celebration on the edges of late autumn wilds. It's not as well refined a scent, but it still encapsulates a certain autumn experience. I'll be interested to see if it balances a bit better as it ages—the sappy sweetness can be a little heavy for me—but on the whole I quietly adore it.