Juushika

In the vial: Sweet yet tart, and not particularly pleasant. On me: O is almost beyond description. It is all of its parts: warm, slightly powdery, golden amber; a sweet, smooth but slightly sticky mixture of vanilla and honey. Yet it is so much more than those parts alone. The sweetness is indulgent and the honey has a distinct sexual aspect, but the base of golden resin makes the scent glow with inviting warmth and provides a dusting of gentle, soothing powder. A rich, golden, comfortable scent, O is decadent and sensual but surprisingly gentle. The color is light gold; the throw is low to medium. Verdict: Without doubt, O is a true delight of a perfume. It's a personal favorite, easy to love, and adored by the boyfriend. It's sensual without being overtly sexual, so it's easy to wear and great for snuggling up with. There is beauty in this simplicity, and O is certainly greater than the mere sum of its parts.

A lethal poison bundled up in a dainty, innocent little package that was oft times found in ancient witches’ flying ointments and astral projection balms. A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild. In the vial: The softest hint of warm dirt. On me: Sweet dirt. It's ingenious, but difficult to describe. The dirt is fine, light, and slightly warm—almost fluffy, really. The sweetness is light vanilla, almost marshmallow; it's very mild, and its creaminess is balanced by the dryness of the dirt. The soil grows slightly more ruddy during wear, but it remains quite light. The combination is gentle, sweet, warm, comforting, mellow, natural, unusual—an unexpected sweet soil scent which manages to be both remarkable and subtle in one go, wearable yet intriguing. Its color is languid lavender, a soft, pale, grayed purple; the throw is miserably low, but the scent is worth slathering. Verdict: I adore Death Cap, and only wish that it were stronger. It's an unusual dirt blend that (like Penny Dreadful) branches out from dirt's usual companions into something delightfully unexpected: vanilla. I'm very glad that I tried it, and treasure my imp; because (unlike most BPAL) I slather this one, I see a potential bottle in my future.

Perhaps Thirteen April 2007/Purple Label: A base of cocoa absolute and white chocolate with thirteen baneful and beneficial bits: cardamom, fig meat, grains of paradise, rice flower, chamomile, sandalwood, catnip, clove, and a bundle of five blessed blossoms and herbs. On me, it's herbal (catnip) dark chocolate, very rich and almost musty—a deep organic scent. I think the herbs would be great on a man, and while it's not the same melted dark chocolate of Boomslang's spectacular cocoa absolute, it's still a strong, quite dark chocolate. I love cocoa/chocolate of all stripes, but that Thirteen is a personal favorite. Heh. Jinx! I've had good luck using Boomslang to scent my laundry, where it keeps its rich cocoa for much, much longer (the chocolate disappears immediately on my skin, too)—he may want to try using it on clothing or in a scent-locket equivalent. The oil does stain (one might even say: enthusiastically), but perhaps a dot of it on a piece of scrap fabric or a clothes tag or anything resembling a scent locket may work. ETA: Intrigue may be hit or miss. It is a darker cocoa, but I also find it distinctly feminine in a dark, mysterious, almost femme fatale sort of way; also, the cocoa is a supporting figure to the predominant fig. But your/his mileage may vary, and it is an incredible blend.

In the vial: Mild cocoa and a touch of fig, very faint and light. On me: Once it dries down, Intrigue is ripe purple fig with unusual sharp sweetness, backed by dark depths. The fig is just on the safe side of cloying, but it is sharp and potent—unusual, unforgiving, and bold. The depths behind them could easily be a mix of palm, cocoa, and wood, but it's too well blended to pick out particular notes; instead, there's a impression of dark woody, possibly cocoa, depths, shadowing the fig and grounding its sharp sweetness. The scent entire is bold and yet mysterious, unignorable potency drawing back into hidden depth; predominant purple fig grounded by cocoa-darkened wood. Colors are purple and black; throw is medium to strong with fig predominant; staying power is pretty impressive—at least six hours without any fading or morphing. Verdict: I find Intrigue unusual, bold, and marvelous. It's sharper and bolder than the scents I usually wear, and I have to be in just the right mood—and clothes—to wear it. But when I am, and when I do, it is breathtaking. The fig's sharpness is slightly unsettling, yet I'm compelled to sniff it again and again. Sweet, sharp, and ultimately dark and mysterious, Intrigue is a perfect fit to the name. Its potency, darkness, and sensuality make it a wonderful evening perfume.

(I have the Dark Delicacies reissue.) In the vial: Dragon's blood and darkness. On me: A red heart of vivid dragon's blood resin with deeper, darker blood musk—the color and feeling of fresh blood just beginning to congeal. Surrounding that is cocoa, darkness, and spices with black pepper as the predominant note—a shadow cast over blood. It's a dark and powerful scent, but not overwhelming: the combination of blood and cocoa is somehow sensual, and the scent sticks close to the skin (with dragon's blood and black pepper in the throw), inviting others to lean in to experience it fully. The colors are dark red and black (I wore it when I saw Burton's Sweeney Todd, and it's a perfect match to that aesthetic). Verdict: The Tell-Tale heart is a pleasing scent on the surface—warm dragon's blood spiked by black pepper. Then the intimate throw draws you in, revealing richer blood and darker overtones. Finally it conjures the perfect image of the final, unnatural pulses of a congealing heart, beating its threat from concealing darkness. An exact fit to the inspiration, a wonder of a perfume, and a personal favorite. This was the first scent that I was compelled to stock up on, I wear it often, and it's my favorite LE. Truly—perfect.

In the vial: Dragon's blood resin, backed by a hint of amber. My imp has aged almost two years, and has quite a stunning appearance—both the oil and the imp cap are bright orange-red. On me: The dragon's blood remains predominant. It's bright red, slightly sweet, almost juicy, although it tempers a bit during wear. The amber is far secondary, but it amps a little bit over time—rather than crystalline, it is soft, warm, and slightly powdery. The total effect is a slightly sweet, fruity red DBR grounded by a background of subdued golden amber—more powdery and dragon's blood-heavy than the description implies. Verdict: This isn't my favorite scent. On me, it's not more than the sum of its parts—so while I love both DBR and amber, I wish the combined scent were more complex. Nonetheless, it's quite pleasant and the boyfriend loves it. Lively and yet comforting, warm and smooth, a good scent for dragon's blood lovers. I don't need more than my imp, but that imp gets a fair bit of use.

In the vial: Almost indistinct, but cream with a touch of coffee and dusty wood. On me: Heavily creamed coffee, lightly sweetened. The cream is generous, the coffee is secondary but amps a bit more with wear. I can't pick out alcohol, thank goodness; nor can I pick out books or wood, though they may be what provides the barest grounding, non-foody aspect to the blend. On the whole, this is milky/creamy, sweet, delicious coffee—in fact, it smells just like coffee ice cream, but pleasantly warm instead of cold. It's a comforting foody scent, creamed-coffee light brown in color, thin cream in texture. Verdict: I've always wished that Misk U. were more complex than pure creamed coffee—I would love an atmospheric scent, something more evocative, more of the books and wood. Nonetheless, it is lovely. It's true to life, foody without being overly sweet, comforting and delicious. This is a wonderful scent for cuddling up and reading. I don't wear it too often, but I am glad to have my imp around.

In the bottle: Difficult to pin down, but approximately a creamy parchment-colored incense. On me: After some brief morphing when it first goes on, it dries down to—well, to a very close match to the description. Lurid Library is the first page of an old book: ivory parchment, thick and creamy to the touch, unmarked by bitter ink. Over the years the parchment has picked up the scents in the library: incense and a touch of musk, both dark, faint but present, seeped into the smooth fibers of the page, staining them to old ivory. The rest of the library isn't discernible—there are no woods, no leather bindings, just the bare, finger-worn parchment of the book's first page. The color is aged ivory; the scent is distinct despite a mild throw and the wear length is moderate. Verdict: I picked up a bottle of this unsniffed when it was first released, confident that I would love it; I have not been disappointed, and continue to love and wear it a year later. It is one of my all-time favorite oils. This is a must-have if you love the smell of book paper and an ideal scent for curling up with some well-loved books. I adore it, and treasure my bottle.

In the vial: Not much of anything, perhaps the lightest touch of golden musk. On me: Perfection. Velvety fur and warm musk in a pale golden shade. A bit sweet, quite warm, very comforting. It's animalistic yet clean and dry, more like short fur than pungent musk glands. It has a similar feel and texture to Velvet—powdery in the best sense. Sometimes when wearing it I can make out a touch of the forest setting, the memory of dry leaves—but it's delicate velvety dun musk for the most part, and that's enough for me. Verdict: Ivanushka is one of my favorite scents, and I've had it in heavy rotation since it was released. (Ironically, that's why I've never reviewed it—I find my favorites the hardest to review, because it's difficult to describe just how much I love them.) Beautiful, velvety, animalistic yet clean, warm and comforting—this is a stunning pure blond/golden musk, and, simply stated, I could not love it more.

I agree with recommendations of: Saytr, which is an incredibly deep brown musk/civet smoothed out with a touch of vanilla. It's sweet on my skin, but musk is always sweet on my skin; it would certainly work as a "macho" vanilla. Golden Priapus, Insatiable lust, unending vigor! A truly carnal, energetic men’s blend: vanilla and amber with juniper, rosewood and white pine. Sometimes called a more masculine Snake Oil: it has a strong vanilla component and yeah, it's a bit sweet—but the astringent pine and juniper temper that, and it's all over a rather masculine, if not "macho," blend.

That was my review, and I got my imp free from someone else who traded it from someone else, and I don't even know where it came from before thatso, yeah, there's a distinct likelihood that my imp is pretty old and not representative of any potential recent color changes.

The (original) price point of the BPAL single notes was lower the cost of a 5ml bottle of that essential oil, some BPAL components come from private distributors, and presumably Beth does combine different aromatic oils to create the base "notes" that are listed in her perfumes. So, yes, the SNs sold, once upon a time, by BPAL were probably unique, as boutique/accord or otherwise, not just a purchased EO bottled up, labeled, and sold. And even if not, it's sometimes a crapshoot to try and find a good EO source; the BPAL ones were created, approved, and/or presumably used by Beth, ergo they were a reliable, trusted source. I've never smelled a BPAL SN either, myself, so I can't make individual comparisons. But that's what I'd figure.

In the vial: Deep buttery almond indeed, and quite potent. On me: The almond is a touch perfumey, which would normally drive me away from a scent. But Hecate is lovely. The almond is neither cherry-like or bitter; it's smooth, rich as butter, golden warm—simply divine despite its generic perfumey edge. There is just a touch of shadows: The dark musk adds depth but, coupled with the myrrh, remains on the sweeter and lighter side. Over time, the musk amps up, casting a darker shadow over the golden almond. The scent becomes much darker, verging on the edge of bitterness, and the almond's perfumey aspect disappears. This is a powerful, unusual feminine blend, a lovely match to Hecate Herself. The color is golden brown, darkening significantly during wear. Verdict: I adore it—more than I remember from when I first tried it (my imp is now aged ten months). I wish that the earlier stage, where the almond is more prominent and the scent is buttery gold, stayed around longer; the darker, muskier stage isn't bad, but it's not as lovely or evocative. Still, I'm quite in love and will definitely keep and wear my imp.

I can't wear (and don't much care for) rose, and I'm no fan of mostly florals in general, ergo I haven't tried much of Ars Moriendi and probably won't. I do, however, dearly love Haunted (soft golden amber darkened with a touch of murky black musk). I love amber, I love musk, and it has such a glowing, lightly shadowed sense to itabsolutely divine. I really need a 5ml.

This is the 2008 version. In the vial: Wet soil and organic decay, and it's actually rather vile. On me: It goes on with that same disgusting strong rotting smell, and then dries down to ... nothing. Perhaps there's a ghost of dry soil, but I think I'm merely willing that scent. The boy confirms: the scent disappears immediately, as soon as it dries down. Verdict: I'll retest later and hope this is a fluke of chemistry, but so far it's looking like I don't need to keep this if I can't smell it.

In the vial: Ozone and cologne, with just a touch of sharp greenery. The scent feels almost empty—an absence, clear, white, airy. On me: Goes on as cologne, very masculine, preserved in sharp alcohol. And on me, that's what it stays—even after an hour's wait. It's a bit sickening, really, and not quite what I had hoped for from this blend. I'm disappointed, but to be fair my skin chemistry doesn't often fail me so completely. Verdict: Washing it off and swapping my imp, immediately. This one just doesn't work on me.

I intially purchased this, before it was dc'd, as a possible tears/salt water scent. In the vial: Salt water and bitter incense. On me: Salt water predominantly, pure and liquid. Behind that, thin bitter incense and just a breath of rose. Within an hour, the intensity of the salt water dies down and the scent becomes lighter and less bitter: gentle white rose and soft incense, dipped in salty water. Somber and wistful, this is most certainly a funerary scent, but it's more pretty than dark or threatening. The colors are white and a very dark warm gray, almost black. It's a gentle scent with a decent-to-low throw and low staying power. Verdict: I'm not sure. Something I get nothing but a huge headache out of Penthus (no doubt the aquatic); the rest of the time it's lovely salt, which is wonderfully true and exactly what I'm after, but I'm not crazy about the incense and rose that accompany it—even though they are quite pretty. This certainly hasn't become my go-to tears scent. I'm not sure, yet, whether I'll keep or trade my imp; I definitely don't need to seek out more.

In the imp: Very faint, almost indiscernible. On me: Milk, linen, and white pepper with just a touch of sweetness which comes out a bit more during wear. This is an odd scent. One of the notes is a vaguely unpleasant on me (not sure which), but ignoring that: The pepper gives warmth but not spice, and everything in the scent is very smooth—crisp clean linen, indeed, and not much more than that. It's opaque white in color, as well. Verdict: I keep trying to wear and love White Rabbit, but it's just not happening. This is an unusual perfume, which I like, but there's something off about it which I don't enjoy and the rest is so clean and white that it's almost without character. This just isn't for me, but I'm not too broken-hearted. Oh well!

I got a sniffie of this just before it was discontinued, so I almost hope I don't love it... In the vial: Bitter dark chocolate which almost smells like coffee. On me: The chocolate disappears upon application, but returns within a few more minutes—but returns only as a ghost of itself. The chocolate is dark but only moderately strong, not nearly as heavy or melted as I expected; it's lightly sweetened, but not sugary. In fact, it reminds me of the cocoa in Velvet, but mixed with cream rather than dried on sandalwood. The cream doesn't go rancid (yay!); it's thicker and silkier than milk, but not by much—this is half-and-half. Strangely, despite being chocolate and cream, this scent doesn't strike me as foody. It has an unusual edge, non-chocolate and non-foody edge which I can't quite pin down. It's the scent of a box of medium darkness, moderate quality bar chocolate, a person eating a chocolate bar, a room full of chocolate bars—not the chocolate bars themselves. Verdict: If this were a general catalog scent or still available, I'd be tempted to hunt down more. It is a lovely scent, smooth and delicious, and much better behaved than I expected from heavy cream. But it's not my favorite chocolate (that would be Velvet for wearing, and Boomslang for a room scent), and I haven't fallen in love. It's a little too tame for me, a little too creamy with not enough emphasis on the chocolate, too foody for perfumey chocolate, too light for chocolate decadence. If this scent remains difficult to aquire, I can live without it.

"Nutmeat" made me curious enough to grab a decant. In the vial: Crisp, dewy apple and ... something else! But I don't know what. On me: This is difficult scent to pin down. It's completely different from the imp scent, but what it is is difficult to say. It's organic and mulchy—wood, moss, and leaves. There's a touch of spice, and a faint warm-earth feeling. It's not a cool or misty scent, which is disappointing. I don't get any of the foodiness that others report, not apple nor nutmeat. It is autumnal, but not particularly evocative. The scent of autumn lawn mulch, decomposing in between rains. Color is dampened red-brown. ETA: On second try, it's autumn bark and leaves, dry and surprisingly spicy. Mist is still missing in action, likewise fruit and nut. It's not as bad or as disappointing as it was, but it remains unevocative, rather flat, and not particularly pleasant. Verdict: I didn't know how much I was looking forward to this scent until I began to suspect it wasn't working on me. I was wishing for evocative, misty autumn outdoors; parts of that are present, but the entire image isn't realized. What's left isn't horrible but isn't particularly likable either. I'll retest my decant and hope that today is just a fluke of chemistry, but I'm pretty disappointed.

I grabbed a half decant of this long ago, when I was first discovering incense. In the vial: Dark, strong, smoky, and bitter incense. On me: Some of the smoke and much of the bitterness has died down. This is dark, slightly powdery incense with a faint heart of solid, sweeter resin. It doesn't have a whole of a depth, though. Color is black. Verdict: I tend to prefer incense as an accompanying note, not as the star of a blend, so this scent isn't for me. I also wish that it were more complex—a sniff of it and I'm done; this isn't a scent that I keep coming back to experience again and better understand. All in all, I won't keep my decant.

Wet on skin: A little perfumy, some citrus, a little powdery, and all over a yellow-green scent. I don't care for this in the vial and don't really like it on me. Drydown: The perfumy aspects fade and the scent becomes brighter and even more yellow-green. There's a bit of bite and sweetness to the citrus note, and it also smells a little herby. This reminds me distinctly of lemongrass. The throw also increases as the scent warms, but never becomes overpowering. Last about four hours. Verdict: I wouldn't mind this on others, but it doesn't suit me—it smells fine, but it's not how I want to smell. It's a little too perfumy, and far too bright. Not keeping the imp.

Cross-posting this ancient review over from my LiveJournal... Wet on skin: Rich, spicy, and decidedly amber. It's a little too heavy, but lightens up quickly. Drydown: The spices step back, the scent becomes warmer and rounder, and the apple blossom start to weave in and out—sometimes I can smell it, sometimes not. This scent starts to smell wonderful on me after about ten minutes, and is at it's best from one hour onward. From then on, it remains largely unchanged. It's a warm, rich, luxurious amber—no question about it, that's the dominant note and the soul of the scent. More beautiful than sexy, it even makes me just a little lethargic. The carnation adds spice and the apple adds sweetness, so all the additional notes balance each other out to make an even-handed, slightly complex blend. Decent throw, and lasts about five hours before dying down to skin level for a few more hours. Verdict: I like it, the boy likes it, this definitely fulfills my amber desire. I love it both for going out and for snuggling up to read and nap. Definitely a keeper, and a wonderful first BPAL experience. (So said two years ago! This was the first BPAL I ever tried, and I loved it then and still wear it now.)

In the vial: Resin, incense, wood. It's polished smooth, golden brown with deep, dark reflections. On me: Much the same as in the vial, though it's warmed and blossomed. These are smooth, deep resins, gently sweet and glowing with hidden luster, paired with warmth from the teak—the scent has the feel and color of wood polished to a shine. It's not too dark, and it's lit by am inner glow. The precise qualities seem to change a bit over time—always resin and incense, but sometimes warmer, sometimes sweeter, as if the different aspects are taking a turn to glow. Verdict: Wonderful. This is a beautiful scent, a triumph of resin and light incense (with remarkably little smoke). It's a bit outside of my usual taste, so I won't wear it often—but I'll certainly keep what I have.

In the vial: Warm spicy florals, but I can't make a guess on the notes. On me: This is a warm red scent, like sunlight pouring through stained glass to color the room within. Golden-red floral (I can't can't pick it out, which saddens me; I can pick out a touch of rose, which for once doesn't go screaming bright on my skin—based on that, don't necessarily let this rose scare you away if it's normally disobedient), thickened with resin, touched by incense and spice. But within an hour it all but disappears, leaving only a warm but indistinct ghost of itself behind. Verdict: It contains so many notes that I love, and yet ... The Masque doesn't do much for me. It reminds me distinctly of Masquerade (without the citrus, which disappears on my skin), only I prefer Masquerade and it lasts longer. There's something about The Masque that I can't pin down, but whatever it is I don't like it. Not a bad scent, but it's not for me. I'll pass this along.