Juushika

In the vial: Coffee, mild without being milky or sweet; I'm not sure if I'm smelling pumpkin or just projecting it, but there is a distant warmth to the scent. On me: Goes on strong coffee, but this was a lesson to me to let bottles rest after shipping: fresh from the mailbox the drydown was all harsh espresso, but after a few days that settled into a much smoother, gentler coffee. Warms up into, well, a pumpkin latte: golden, smooth, warm, comforting, pumpkin and coffee—the milk and vanilla do more to give a sense of smoothness than a distinct scent, and the spices bring out and warm up the pumpkin. Again, fresh from the mail this was too powdery, but within a few days that died down to just some texture to the spice. The major drawback (for me) with Pumpkin Patch V '09 was its powderiness; Pumpkin Latte is admittedly a very similar scent, but it does away with the cocoa and with the strange texture that came with it, and what remains is the warm, comforting, golden scent of a pumpkin latte at Starbucks—although perhaps not quite as good as the real thing. Scent-color is creamy burnt orange; throw and wearlength are both moderate. Verdict: All told, I'm pleased. Pumpkin Latte isn't precisely perfect—perhaps it's too faint, perhaps just the pumpkin is—but it is beautiful, comforting, and pretty much what it says on the tin, in the best possible way. I look forward to seeing how my bottle ages.

In the vial: Slightly earthy, slightly fruity, slightly tropical/fleshy, orange floral. On me: That tropical fleshiness fades during drydown, thank goodness; the scent also grows a bit earthier, a little more like that dense spicy floral I expect from marigold. But once it's settled the scent is a little bit powdery, not too earthy, and quite faint; it's a sweetish golden floral, more of a suggestion of a marigold's color and shape than a precise recreation of its scent. Sometimes it feels a bit too powdery, and it's subtle and short-lived. Scent-color is pale golden orange; wearlength and throw are both very low. Verdict: I want so much to like this, but it isn't all that I had hoped for. Perhaps it's just me and my experience with marigolds, but I had expected a spicier, earthier, different sort of floral—something more like a golden carnation than an autumnal orangeblossom. What I got instead is pleasant, but not quite satisfying, and so faint and brief as to hardly matter. I'll hold on to my bottle to see how it ages, but honestly I'm a bit disappointed.

AMBER 100 In the vial: A musty dusty resin. It reminds me a bit more of Heavenly Love and Earthly Love's incense and resin combo than straight up amber. I can't understate the mustiness of the scent. There's another note in the background which I can't pin down. On me: Smells like ... cooking? With spices. Savory spices. Maybe cumin? As it hits the skin this scent is rather confused: it's a powdery dusty amber with powdery savory spices, and that's an odd combination, however texture-consistent it may be. Things improve during drydown, as the savory spice morphs into something closer to a baking spice. There's some brown sugar sweetness to the scent, and it has a warm resinous base; the powdery musty aspect is still there, although it's leaning more towards spice cabinet than unaired closet. This is in a way a cousin to Gunpowder: it's the scent of foodstuffs or food preparation, but its other aspects (here, resin and mustiness) keep it from being foody. Scent-color is tan and scent-texture is powdery; throw is moderate-low and wear length is average. Verdict: Application is a bitch, because the first stages of this scent are frankly unpleasant. But the drydown is growing on me. Amber 100 is still a bit strange, a little too musty and powdery even for me (and I love powdery ambers) and there's still something a little odd going on in the background. But the resin/spice/brown sugar combo is ... quite nice, actually. I'll have to give this one another go sometime, to see if both my fondness and interpretation of the notes stays stable, but for now I'm pretty pleased. ETA: Over a year later, and Amber 100's mustiness is gone, taking with it much of the powder. It's savory spice and brown sugar over a resin base now, with almost no morphing except for some heavy, almost sour spice in the vial and during drydown. Stabilization does this scent many favors—it's still quite strange, something of a masculine and distinctly un-foody take on this sort of spice combination, but everything I liked best about the fresh oil is now consistently and perhaps more potently present, savory and rich without being heavy, made palatable by the touch of sweetness, unusual and subtly fantastic. AMBER 124 In the vial: There's no real scent in the vial—a hint of pale yellow-golden amber, but not much of anything at all. On me: Goes on as amber, amber, amber—Haunted's golden amber, without any black musk but with a touch of the lemony note Haunted has when wet, and unlike Haunted more resinous than powdery. Drydown is amber, amber, amber—almost a single note, warm and light and just a touch powdery now, a simple but lovely golden amber. But after a while I'd almost swear there's some cocoa in this, adding a touch more powder and giving the scent a bit more color and body, as well as a bit of sweetness. It reminds me of Gelt, except where Gelt is dry and almost arid this is warm, gentle, and much more welcoming. Scent-color is golden and scent-texture is slightly powdery. Throw is moderate—it's a gentle scent, hard to catch intentionally but floating around in a pleasant, accidentally-noticed haze. Wear length is pretty long. Verdict: I'm quite pleased. This isn't a bold scent, and its initial gentle, pure amber might be a bit of a disappointment if I weren't such an amber lover. But it dries down to something gently wonderful: the most palatable sort of golden amber, warm and soft—and, unless I'm mistaken, dusted with a bit of light cocoa. There's beauty in Amber 124's simplicity: it's not complex, but it's lovely and the cocoa (if it is cocoa) gives it just enough depth to hold one's attention. I'm quite enjoying this, and it's a definite keeper. AMBER 184 In the vial: Drugstore-perfumey men's cologne, alcohol-based and nondescript. On me: Goes on as that same miserable cologne, which isn't a scent I know well or much like, so I can't pretend to pick out notes. Drydown, however, is a marked improvement. The alcohol/aquatic/ozone aspect dies off, leaving behind a pleasant but somewhat generic masculine scent. A touch of cologne remains, and I still can't pin down specific notes—especially because it keeps morphing, from spicy herbal resin to something sweeter, maybe by way of musk. Sometimes it reminds me of an unrefined Robin Goodfellow with a punch of excess sweetness. Before too long (an hour or three), though, it fades away. Throw is moderate, wear-length is low. Verdict: Well that was an adventure. This is a little too masculine a scent for me, and I'm not familiar enough with its general category to pretend to dissect its notes. My general impression, however, is mixed. Amber 184 begins poorly and ends quickly and somewhat overbalanced towards sweetness, but there's a middle period where the scent is fairly pleasant: a spicy, herbal, sweetened amber, masculine and warm, unrefined and indistinct perhaps but not bad. Regardless this isn't a keeper, for me—I'll pass it along.

In the vial: With some hesitation I'd say bourbon vanilla and white sugar—but without the sweetness you'd expect from either. It's a pale, almost arid scent, and I'm really shooting into the dark with the notes. On me: There's a punch of cardamom at first, spicy and brown and delicious, leaning towards a single note. But within half an hour, the scent develops depth and grows delicious. It's mostly in the throw—at skin-level the scent is a little unrefined and slightly sharp, bourbon vanilla with a bitter, pale white sugar which reminds me of Sugar Skull. But the throw, which I keep catching accidentally and unexpectedly, is spicy and sweet without being too much of either—I wish I could give it a better description, but it's quite lovely and inviting, vanilla/sugar/cardamom but not foody. As it wears, however, the cardamom continues to die down and what remains of Gypsy is quite similar to Dorian (bless the reviewer who mentioned the similarity! you're absolutely right), that same slightly odd and oddly seductive combination of vanilla, musk, and sugar. Verdict: I wish that the cardamom lasted as long as the other notes, because it's wonderful and Gypsy's middle stage of cardamom/vanilla/sugar is just divine. But as the cardamom fades, so does Gypsy's magic. That spice is what makes the scent wonderful and unique; without it this is just a cousin to Dorian, and I'm not a fan of that scent. But I'll hang on to my decant for now—perhaps aging will make for a richer, more distinctive oil. ETA: What a difference a year makes. Aged, I no longer see a similarity between Gypsy and Dorian; Gypsy retains its cardamom through to the end, although the sugar now dies off during drydown (so much so that I sometimes want to layer this with a sweet scent). It has more body and longevity, and the spice pricks the nose and is none to shy, but it's still an elusive scent, something savory and gorgeous that flits off the skin and dances through the throw. It's subtle but compelling, and surprisingly addictive. I'm glad to see this age well.

Lookin' at Vanilla #15 In the vial: Sweet, foody/fruity but with a touch of floral, thick but powdery, and it reminds me a bit of Sweet Tarts. On me: There's a bit of resin/amber as it hits the skin, and the scent on the skin smells less liquid than it did in the imp. All in all, though, not much changes: this is a powdery soft fruity floral with a Sweet Tarts edge. It reminds me a little of the combination of opaque white vanilla and dry florals in Antique Lace, and of the powdery sweet floral of Regan. Scent-color is a very pale, opaque lilac; throw is moderate-low and wear length is fairly short. Verdict: This isn't one for me. As in Antique Lace and Regan, I find the vanilla and powdery/dry floral combination is a little stuffy and cloying; the fruity Sweet Tarts aspect doesn't help matters. Vanilla 15 is somewhere between vanilla candle, cheap candy, and grandma's soap, yet stays pretty tame and fades in an hour or three: not desirable, but fairly inoffensive, and still one I'll send away.

In the vial: Sugared darkness, perhaps a hint of tea. On me: This is the second time I've tested and tried to review this scent, and I'm running into the same problem I had before: I can't pick out notes and can barely describe my impressions. Not that it's faint or nondescript, just that the words fail me. Sweetish (but toned down from the bottle scent) by way of white sugar; a touch of lemon that gives a bit of etheral haze over the scent; the heart of the scent is what I find hardest to describe: something dark, a bit aged, but (because of the other notes) never heavy. That mystery heart is probably a combination of tea and musk, but honestly I don't get either note distinctly. Scent-color is brown, throw is moderate to low. Verdict: I wish I were able to give a more precise description of this scent, but that escapes me. My inabilities aside, Dorian just doesn't grab me. It's pleasant enough and I wouldn't mind it on someone else, but it isn't to my taste—it leaves me with a distinct "meh" impression, and I wouldn't be drawn to wear it again. I'll give away my bottle.

2006 version. In the vial: I'd wager boozy, fruity, and a touch musky, but really the scent is hard to pin down—it's dark, a little medicinal, and faint. On me: Immediately on the skin there's a whiff of strong dark musk and something medicinal, almost cedary. The drydown is as faint and indescribable as the scent in the vial. It reminds me of Snake Oil, which also pulls a disappearing act on my skin; the hint of scent left behind is a similar combination of black vanilla, incense, patchouli, and musk, a scent which is faint and dirty and slightly "off." Scent-color is dark brown; throw is low, low as low can be, adhering to the skin. Verdict: The Snake Oil family tends to do this to me: despite lovely, tempting descriptions and reviews, they're oddly faint and a little off on my skin, a skin-level hint of crusty vanilla with sundry dark bases. Smut follows the same trend, so the result on me is a simple disappointment—although perhaps not a surprise. Oh well! I'm glad I had a chance to try it, and I'll pass along my decant.

In the vial: Mostly golden apple, but there's something a little darker in the background. This reminds me oddly of a lighter, golden Fearful Pleasure—that's probably just the apple/wood combo, though. On me: Yellow apple and musky wood. The apple is dominant, golden-yellow and slightly dewy—the aquatic goes a little strange on my skin, but mostly behaves itself. (When I first got this scent from the Lab, the aquatic made me nauseous; it's had some months to age, and that note has toned down a lot.) The woods aren't dark but they have a strange musky fuzz to them—or perhaps that's the leaves? Either way, there's a fuzzy, almost-powerderiness to the woods. Scent-color is yellow, throw is moderate to low. Verdict: A not unpleasant scent, but not quite good. It's distinctive and it fits the notes and name, but to my nose the bright golden apple doesn't mesh well with the fuzzy musk/leaves, and while the combination isn't quite unsettling it is strange—and not in an intriguing way. I'm also not a fan of aquatics, even when well-behaved. In short, not offensive but a little strange, and not something I'll wear again. I'll pass my imp along.

In the vial: Cologne. Spicy, alcohol-based cologne. That's probably the aquatic talking, echoed by the combination of rum/leather/musk/gunpowder. On me: The cologne impression fades significantly after drydown. What's left behind is about what you'd expect: a spicy, but not sharp, mix of salt, musk, and plenty of grainy gunpowder (with a hint of vetiver smoke). I'm willing to bet that all the notes are in there, but those are the ones I perceive best. (But I get nothing floral, fruity, or sweet.) The scent has a lot of bite without quite growing harsh. Unfortunately, the vetiver somtimes amps too high, morphing from textured gunpowder into a much smoother smoke—in short, turning the scent into a mellow single note vetiver, which is nice enough but not really what Mary Read is meant to be. Scent-color is gray with a touch of brown; throw is moderate. Verdict: I like Mary Read well enough when it's multifaceted, grainy, spicy, gunpowder-and-sea. It's a fascinating, unique scent, although not really a match to my personality—something I'd like to smell on someone else, I think. But the times when the vetiver amps are a bit disappointing—it strips most of the depth and personality from the scent. All in all, one I like but will pass on. It's just not something I'll wear.

Another vote for Boomslang from me, but I think the key can be using it as a room scent or in a locket. The cocoa absolute vanishes on my skin and I don't think I'm the only one; using it almost any other way lets the cocoa stick around for ages. I actually don't get too much Snake Oil from it--it's mostly a undercurrent of liquid spices which help tame the cocoa so it never reaches foody. I had wonderful results with Cottonmouth, which surprised the hell out of me because I dislike both Snake Oil and florals. For the record, I find Snake Oil universally disappointing, but it doesn't do weird powdery things with my skin chemistry. New and aged, it goes on a little sickening, just "off" in a way that's hard to pin down, disappears during drydown, and remains just a hint of lovely dark vanilla during wear--but such an elusive little hint that there's no point in wearing it.

In the vial: A yellow-green scent which I would guess to be lemongrass, but honestly I can't pin down notes. Regardless, I already think it's not my sort of scent. On me: Immediately on the skin it's an Asian restaurant: lemongrass and blond woods. After about fifteen minutes the patchouli amps a bit, dimming and grounding the airy, fresh yellow-green of the lemongrass. But after a half hour the scent reaches its final stage—and it's full of florals. There's a fleshy, damp jasmine, but rose tends to amp on my skin so that's what I really get here: a heady pink/red rose with a touch of lemon citrus and patchouli's darkness. Verdict: I'm not a fan of lemon, so it's very odd for me to say that I actually prefer the earliest stages of this scent. It's a fresh lemongrass with a bit of dimension from the patchouli, cedar, and sandalwood—and really quite pleasant, although it's not the sort of scent that I'd wear often. But the fleshy rosy florals are the same old sin of skin chemistry, and to my nose quite unpleasant. Other skin chemistries will probably have more luck, however, in keeping this scent balanced. I'll pass along my imp.

A frimp from the Lab. This is not one I would have ordered on my own—I like some of the notes (orange blossom, amber, oakmoss, incense) but others (leather, rose, florals) I dislike or are deathnotes. In the vial: I get exactly what I don't want out of the blend: a cologne-like scent, dry and vaguely floral but masculine. On me: The dryness of the scent dies off during drydown, and the amber and incense amp up a bit in the first half hour—they provide a firmer grounding for the airness of the florals. But this scent's perfumey, cologne-like aspects never fade. It's a dry, slightly powdery, slightly soapy mixed floral, and while the rose never amps (as it is wont to do on my skin) there's still too much floral here for me to appreciate or accurately analyze the scent. Verdict: As I feared, the florals and the leather/oakmoss blend make this too much like a drugstore cologne. To my nose it's simply unpleasant, so no, I won't be keeping my imp.

Orchid tubers have been used extensively by witches in their love philtres, both to promote amorous attention and the attainment of true love, and, conversely, to wither misplaced passions and sever romantic bonds. This perfume is a dusky orchid, subdued and ethereal. In the vial: Sweeter than I expected, and slightly powdery in its duskiness, but yes, a purple orchid floral. On me: The same, but bolder, richer, more distinct—scents really do blossom on the skin, no pun intended. Thankfully some of the sweetness fades, but a little too much of it lingers, pushing the orchid towards heady and cloying. There's a bit of dusty duskiness in the scent's purple tone and in the throw, but for the most part this is a heady, fleshy floral, and quite potent too. Throw is moderate to high. Verdict: With few exceptions, I tend not to like florals. Orchid is usually one of those exceptions, thus my interest in this blend—but it's just too strong for me, too heady, too floral. It's not unpleasant (although I'm not fond of the persistant sweetness), it's just not the scent for me. A drop of it may be decent for layering but in the end, I think I'll pass along my imp.

In the vial: A warm and heavy scent, thick with beeswax and resin, golden in color, with a waft of fleshy orchid perfume. On me: Much the same as it is in the vial, but the notes mellow and meld. This is the scent of sex-hot skin: a gentle sensual musk, fleshy golden resins with the smoothness of beeswax, and still a waft of that thick, slightly tropical, vanilla orchid perfume. Despite the notes I don't get much sweetness from the scent; in fact it feels so fleshy, so similar to sex, that the scent's actually a bit salty and sweaty. Scent-color is pale gold, and scent-texture is very fleshy; throw is low. Verdict: This is such a unique scent that I'm glad I had the chance to test it. It's a brilliant match to the inspiration, even moreso than I expected from the notes: a thick, sexual, feminine scent, not quite vulgar but quite unabashed, obviously sexual. It's distinctive, beautiful, but not a scent that I would wear often—so I find myself in no need of a wearable amount. It's fascinating, but I'll pass.

A frimp from the Lab—I would never have ordered this myself. In the vial: It's floral, but it has a fleshiness that almost makes it seem fruity, round and full. It's a sweet, frosted, pastel scent. On me: Much as it is in the vial. Some of the fruitness disappates, leeching some color from the scent. I'm no good at discerning specific florals, so mostly what I get from Prague is the fleshy, white, opaque scent I associate with lilies. It's fairly tame, however, rounded out by a slight purple fruitiness, frosted with a pale powderiness that tones down the scent. It remains quite sweet, however, to the point of becoming cloying. This reminds me oddly of a tamer, gentler version of Regan, despite the dissimilarity in the notes. Scent-color is a frosted, opaque, purple-tinged cream; throw is moderate. Verdict: I wasn't expecting these results from this blend—it's far fruitier and tamer than I anticipated. But even then, Prague just isn't my sort of scent. It's pleasant enough, but I'm no fan of floral/fruity perfumes. I'll pass along my imp.

A frimp from the Lab which I would never have ordered for myself—I'm not a big fan of florals, but mostly it's that rose tends to amp to epic, horrific levels on my skin. In the vial: Oh yeah, that's floral all right. Unfortunately I'm not very good at picking out individual floral notes. On me: Because I'm not good at discerning most florals, this may be an entirely pointless review. My sense of this is largely fleshy white flowers, I suspect mostly the muguet and calla lily, which have a thick, almost cloying scent with a bit of sharpness. But the rose peeks its head out soon enough—a thick, pink, sharp scent, the rose never quite crowds out the lilies but it sure tries. As the lily and rose vie for supremacy, they combine into something fleshy and vivid pink, sharp and strongly floral—it lacks humidity but mimics the texture of tropical florals. I sometimes catch something a bit powdery (violet? chamomile?), and sometimes something a bit sweet, lurking in the background. Scent-color is pink; throw is moderate to low, and wear length is incredibly short—perhaps an hour? Verdict: It's not unpleasant, but it's a little conflicted in its constant battle between lily and rose—and regardless, the florals in Ephemera just aren't to my taste. It also fades so quickly that there's little point in applying it in the first place. Neither my skin nor my nose much like this blend, so I'll send it on its way.

In the vial: Pumpkin and coffee. The pumpkin is warm and spiced, more savory than sweet and not at all buttery. The coffee is mellow but quite distinct. Comparisons to a pumpkin spice latte are apt. On me: A pumpkin spice mocha. The Patch pumpkin note is divine, savory and dry, warm and golden. The hazelnut and vanilla cut down on some of the dry gourdiness, making it a bit lighter and sweeter. And the rest of the blend reminds me a lot of El Dia de Reyes: a powdery combination of coffee, milk, and cocoa. This is a foody scent, a wonderful warm pumpkin spice mocha, but it has a distinctly powdery texture (which I think is lovely) and the pumpkin and coffee keep it savory and grounded. Scent-color is flaxen (a creamy, pale, orange-yellow); throw and wear-length are moderate. Verdict: Pumpkin Patch V is El Dia de Reyes (2008) meeting his new best friend, pumpkin. I wouldn't have expected the blend to be so powdery, but it has a lot of El Dia de Reyes's powdered milk/cocoa mix dryness. That's not a bad thing, though—it meshes well with the dry spiciness of the pumpkin, and the vanilla and hazelnut keep the powderiness under control. And Pumpkin Patch V is simply beautiful. Comforting, warm, foody but tempered, this is my favorite of this year's Halloweenies and I'm thrilled that I have a bottle.

A frimp from the lab. In the vial: ...lemon? A very pale, delicate lemon—pleasant except that I usually hate the scent of lemon. On me: During drydown this is lemon, a light sweet floral, and the smoothness of pale resins. It reminds me of a lemon square but white and fluffy and not quite so foody: a opaque white but still ethereal scent. Within half an hour, much of the lemon dies off and the blooms become more prominent, pale but distinctly floral; the sweetness combines with the florals to be a bit cloying, and the scent becomes slightly muddied and faint. It's still pleasant though, sweet and airy, lemony, fresh, floral, more-or-less ethereal. Scent-color is white; throw is moderate-high, dying down to moderate-low. Verdict: Pale scents and florals rarely work for me; I generally hate lemon. So it's something of a surprise that I find Ether quite pleasant. I like its earlier stages more, when the lemon scent keeps it fresh and the florals are gentle; the later, more floral stage is decent too, but not quite as light or distinct. Regardless, this isn't the scent for me. I imagine it's lovely in the summer, but airy lemony sweet floral scents will never suit me regardless of the time of year. I'd love to smell it on someone else, though. I'll trade away my imp.

This was a frimp from the Lab, but I've been curious to try it. In the vial: Spices and smoke. The combination leans towards foody but doesn't quite reach it. On me: This isn't vetiver as I'm used to it—dragon's blood is so juicy that it washes out most of vetiver's harshness; what remains reminds me of liquid smoke: a thickened, darkened, somewhat woody scent that's so smooth it's almost wet. Surprisingly the dragon's blood isn't distinct outside of this effect—it may add a bit of roundness and redness to the scent, but it's very subtle. The spices (which remind meof traditional western baking spices, but are not foody) add warmth and dimension. This is an odd scent: warm, reddish, smoothly smoky—yet while all of those aspects sound cuddly and warm, this blend leaves me feeling cool. Scent-color is dull, dark burgundy; throw is moderate to low. Verdict: Serpent's Kiss is at once exactly what it says on the tin and nothing like I was expecting. All the notes have the potential to be very bold, but instead they're toned down: a wet, reddish resin; a smooth smoke; a hint of warmth and depth. The combination is warm, dark, and spicy, though not quite "seething with passion"—but it is certainly cold-blooded. The scent has a sense of distance, coldness; I feel like it's pushing me away even though I'm the one wearing it. So while it's pleasant enough, nuanced and skillfully blended, I don't imagine I'd wear this much. I like a scent I can cuddle up in, and this isn't that. I expect I'll trade away my imp.

In the vial: Sweet warm pumpkin, spiced with brown musk. On me: I've had bad luck with the creamy pumpkin in Jack, but the Patch pumpkin note is so different—it's drier, less creamy, never waxy, more like a true-to-life raw pumpkin than a pumpkin candle. On the skin the pumpkin in this blend is glowing umber, slightly spiced, dry and gourd-like but quite warm. It's not an outright foody note, so the almond and honey don't turn this into a bakery—they make the pumpkin richer, slightly sweeter, a little heady, and more golden. The brown musk is beautifully distinct, more spicy than animalic, with a slight powdery texture. All told this is pumpkin spiced by brown musk, rich and warm and comforting, yet somewhat unusual. I adore it. Scent-color is dark bronze; throw is moderate, and wearlength is moderate to high. Verdict: This isn't my favorite of this year's pumpkins, but I am perfectly pleased with it. It's a difficult scent to describe, unfortunately—the pumpkin/brown musk combination needs to be sniffed to be understood. But the pumpkin is glorious, and the notes which accompany it make for a unique scent, warm and glowing, textured and slightly spicy in the nose, altogether remarkable and lovely. I feel lucky to have a bottle.

In the vial: A spicy, incense-laden red musk—so I'd guess red musk, patchouli, and myrrh. No hint of ylang ylang, yet. On me: The patchouli is a little harsh upon application but it smooths out during drydown. The initial phase of Lust is an incredible rich, spicy, warm red scent, glowing with the sweetish resin of myrrh but staring the breathtaking blend of red musk and patchouli, which together are spicy and dark, many-layered and sensuous and oh so beautiful. Nearing an hour into weartime, however, the ylang ylang finally makes an appearance: it's a sweet, thick, heady tropical floral. Red musk still adds depth and patchouli a bit of darkness, but the ylang ylang grows a bit too strong, sometimes overshadowing all other notes. It's still quite beautiful, but not as much to my taste. Scent-color is dark red morphing into a rosy gold. Throw is moderate to low, wear length moderate to high. Verdict: I'm not a fan of many florals, but ylang ylang is one of my sometimes-exceptions—and so it's not unpleasant for it to pop its head up in this blend. Still, I already have some lovely ylang ylang scents; moreover I absolutely adore the spicy red musk of this scent in its first hour and I'm heartbroken to see it pushed aside. I'm not quite sure what to do with Lust—it's beautiful to be sure, but not quite what I wanted. I imagine I'll trade away my imp eventually, but I'll hang onto it for a bit before I decide.

This was a frimp from the Lab, and one which I'd not have ordered on my own—I don't have high expectations from honeysuckle. In the vial: Black but bright: smoky vetiver, dark opium, and sweet, almost sharp honeysuckle cutting through. What it says on the tin, I guess, but it's a very striking combination. It's also a remarkably thick oil for being lab-fresh. On me: I take that back, the vetiver wasn't smoky in the imp—but it sure is when it hits the skin. The intensity of the vetiver dies down during drydown as the opium rises to provide a bit of balance through its smoother, thicker scent. The honeysuckle is much less potent than it was in the vial, where it was edging towards a lotus-like sharp, sickly-sweetness; for a while it's almost too subtle, but it eventually becomes a sweet, barely-floral backing to the vetiver, and it's what makes the blend work. This scent is dark, smoky, shadowed, smooth, but threading through it all is a whiff of unexpected, and unexpectedly lovely, sweetness. Scent-color is a dark gray alternating with pink; throw and wear length are moderate. Verdict: I'm honestly not sure what to think. I've been developing a love of vetiver for a while now, and so this blend scratches that itch—vetiver is the star, and the accompanying notes do a lot to keep it smooth and palatable. But the honeysuckle is so unusual, so distinctive, that the scent keeps catching me unawares. It's a bit disquieting—which fits the inspiration well, but may not make for a very wearable perfume. That said, I'm keeping my imp. This is too unique (and too unexpectedly successful) a blend for me to let pass by, even if I don't think I'll wear it much. 10-year ETA: This has aged beautifully! The predominant vetiver has grown silky smooth, with wafts of smoke that sit higher in the nose; it blends almost inseparably with the opium, a rich, dark base. The honeysuckle has tamed and reminds me of aged lotus, distinctive, sweetish, but without that sharp edge. It's still a strange, almost-unsettling combo, but grown so smooth and rich--I still love vetiver, I'm still wearing this mostly for the vetiver, but it's grown into a beautiful, deep, polished vetiver.

I picked up an imp of this in search for a scent similar to Heaven and Earth Essential's Black Cat. In the vial: A thick, mellow orange blossom darkened by patchouli. But it's a bit strange in a way I find hard to describe—it's almost a little boozy. On me: As it hits the skin the components seem to separate: the orange blossom grows sharper and sweeter, the patchouli is a dark, more distinct shadow, and I can even pick out some warmth from the ginger. That distinctiveness fades a bit during drydown, but I can still pick out all of the notes—and they combine together into something truly lovely: sweet, warm, golden, but rich and dark with patchouli. It tends towards cloying but doesn't quite reach it, settling instead for unabashed. It's breathtaking, sensual scent, and difficult to stop sniffing. Scent-color is orange-gold; throw is moderate to high (and the blend is potent, too—it only takes a swipe) but it dies down significantly after about two hours. Verdict: Vixen is lovely. It's remarkably similar to HAEE's Black Cat (Vixen is a bit smoother, less sweet, and less cloying, but the orange blossom/patchouli combination is the distinctive heart of both blends) and so in that respect it's exactly what I was looking for. But it's also beautiful in its own right. Sweet but dark, rich and beautiful, this unique blend with great throw and I can't stop sniffing myself. It's a real winner for me—I'm smitten. I only wish it remained gloriously strong for longer, but this is one that I will be happy to reapply.

This was a frimp from the Lab, but one I've been interested in trying—I'm fond of dirty fruit scents. In the vial: Bright golden apricot on first sniff, a darker earthier scent—;a surprisingly warm, comforting patchouli—on the second. I already like it. On me: I'm reminded a little too much of the patchouli in Greed, which went a bit playdoh on my skin—some patchouli is too harsh, but this patchouli is almost too thick, with a resinous, malleable, almost musty quality. A lot of the apricot's sharpness dies off during drydown, but it might have been if it stayed because the juicy, golden, round scent that remains serves to bring out the patchouli's sense of thickness/mustiness. Scent-color is pale brown; throw is low. Verdict: This may be a good blend for a room scent or a scent locket, because in the vial the combination of sharp, bright apricot and smooth, warm dirt is unique and quite lovely—I'm not crazy about it, but I like it well enough. On my skin, though, too much sharpness is lost and the end result is just a little too musty, a little too much like playdoh, dirty in an unpleasant way. My boyfriend wrinkled his nose at it and I'm about to wash it off, so I don't imagine I'll ever wear this. Since I prefer scents I can wear on my skin, I'll probably trade it away. Still, it was nice to have the chance to try it.

In the vial: Red musk and a general perfumey undercurrent. On me: Red musk remains the predominant note, but the spices give it a lot of depth and personality. Musk tends to be slightly sweet on my skin, so the effect here is a barely-sweet, rich, deep, sensual red warmth. I wish I could say more about it, but I find it hard to describe—it's almost as if the scent is missing a defining characteristic. It's still lovely, though—I catch whiffs of the warm sweetness in the throw and it pulls me in to the thicker, redder, spicier scent at skin level. Scent-color is a gentle golden red; throw and wearlength are both low. Verdict: I like Sherezade, but I feel like it's missing something. It's a lovely scent rich with red musk and warm spices, but it's oddly indistinct, hard to pin down and difficult to describe. The red musk is so predominant that it's easy to loop in with other red musk blends—the spices, while enjoyable, aren't enough to make it distinctive. Similarly while I enjoy it, I'm not bowled head over heels. I think I'll keep my imp, and I imagine pulling it out for an hour or two of intimate, warm snuggling. But as pleasant as it is, this blend isn't in any way remarkable.