gentle-twig

From an aged imp: Opens with a dew note reminiscent of the lab’s rain note in The Storm (not a great reference point, but the only thing comparable in my collection)—I’ve always been puzzled by this note, which doesn’t really smell watery to me at all but instead vaguely fruity and ozonic. It dissipates quickly and I’m left with verbena, ginger, and amber. The verbena is much softer than an actual citrus note might be, with a geranium nuance. The ginger is not in your face, but heightens the brightness of the verbena. There might be some grass in there, too, disguised among the bright ginger and somewhat green verbena. And this is all a top a soft, golden amber. Sadly, I’m not getting sage. The overall composition reminds me a lot of Brisingamen, both are big ambers paired with unexpected botanical accords. Mag Mell is broad, hazy, and bright, where Brisingamen is more defined, round, and slightly bitter. This is not for me, but more intriguing than I had imagined. The rarest of things, an amber “freshie.”

From an old frimp— Opens with dry, dark chocolate and a tinge of heady florals. The florals are not to my taste but they dissipate within the first hour and I enjoy the chocolate despite not being a fan of gourmands typically. Tezcatlipoca soon develops a smoky edge, thanks to the incense and leather. I can sense all the notes here but they don’t stick out distinctively at first in my skin. They are all supporting players to the chocolate, giving it a dusty, smoky, earthy quality. Gradually patchouli replaces chocolate as the main player but the vibe is the same. I never would have sought this one out, but I don’t dislike it as much as I thought I would. The lab’s leather notes are usually a miss for me, but the leather here fits pretty seamlessly among the other notes. I won’t be buying a bottle but I’m glad to have tried something to put me at ease with regard to a couple of profiles I usually avoid. For others, I imagine the frank earthiness of this could be a turn off. There is something reminiscent of stale cigarette smoke going on here. I don’t mind these parts of the scent but be warned that it is probably darker, huskier, dirtier than you might be anticipating.

A very smooth and round amber and apple blossom scent. Apple notes can be rough for me, but this one is nice. Nice is really the operative word here all around. The ambers are difficult to pick apart. Definitely sweet and bright ambers, not a lot of labdanum in these. I can detect the Myrtle and carnation if I really try, but they are very much supporting players, suggesting a barely there but very welcome (to me) bitter/herbal/spicy apple skin when paired w the apple blossom and those big globular ambers. If those notes were amped up, or if the ambers were more labdanum-forward, think it could have been an unexpected hit! As it is, it’s not really for me. Too sweet and smooth. But I am charmed by its autumnal romance. And impressed that an apple fragrance can smell this refined!

When I first got this, the pine was a lot for me. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Almost two years later, it has aged wonderfully. Warm, structured, evocative of the pine groves of my youth in the Midwest. There is enough overlap in the scent of these ingredients that it has a kind of kaleidoscopic effect, you might mistake the frankincense for pine or beeswax before becoming aware of the genuine article. A very grounding and comforting wear without being boring or indolent. Halfway between a pottery barn candle and a comme des garçons perfume in the best way.

It’s really making me laugh that this is getting 2 reviews 10 minutes apart on this day. My imp is ancient so it’s not even because the lab is frimping this like crazy. There’s something in the air. Anyway: Kabuki opens with (in quick succession) joyous cherries and blossoms, something waxy — sandalwood? — and what must be anise but to me is taking the blend in a more solemn herbal/woody direction than to the candy store. A gentle, airy musk soon becomes the star, opening the scent up without losing the bittersweet aspects of anise and cherry. At this point the scent is no longer woody at all, but there is still a kind of herbal brightness hiding deep in this scent. I like it but something about it just screams head shop to me in a way that would really limit its wearability for me. This reminds me a lot of Kyoto, which I also recently sampled. I was initially going to say that Kabuki was a kind of grown up Kyoto, but because of the head shop quality here they both end up feel a little bit teenage to me, just different kinds of teenagers. I’m glad to be wearing this because I’ve never smelled the lab’s red musk note. I think it is contributing to the head shop (and even, dare I say, urinal cake) vibes, but I also enjoy it. It’s a light musk without being dryer sheets or straight galaxolide. I think I could really love it in a different blend, it’s really the combination of musk and bittersweet gourmand notes that is making this a slight miss for me.

This one seems to be pretty polarizing. Luckily, I am in the camp of admirers. This was my first BPAL bottle (or at least among the bottles in my first rider) a decade ago smdh one of my first perfumes of any kind. It’s so special to me, but in part because it’s so special period. It’s pretty linear on me, just a perfectly balanced mix of wine (bright, reminiscent of red currants), herbs (basil is definitely in the mix), and mossy earth. Additionally, there is the pervasive suggestion of dust, maybe part of the soil accord but standing somewhat apart to my nose. It should be too sweet, too discordant, too sharp. It is none of these things. It is greater than the sum of its parts: grounding, elegiac, and just beautiful. For me it is not at all creepy or unsettling. Although it may recall a crypt, but in so doing it reminds us that a crypt is a vampire’s home. I recently ordered an imp to see if my more experienced nose still could appreciate this one, and I will likely be purchasing a second bottle given how much I’ve enjoyed it.

In the bottle: Sharp, bright, and green. The green note is crisp, not ragged or weedy. The overall effect is like a refined classic cologne—not aquatic or soapy, but clean, fresh and invigorating. Wet on skin: Bright citrus with a dry, crisp dead leaf accord. Other dead leaf scents have smelled like lettuce or green pepper to me, but this falls more comfortably into a vintage perfume mode—galbanum? Indeed, a somehow very classic chord is struck by the yellow gleam and green snap of the opening. Unfortunately, this classic-for-a-reason opening is briefly and slightly marred by an ozonic note (I have also seen others say this of some of the dead leaf scents). The ozone surprised me, but if you keep the tea fantasy in mind it does paint a steamy, liquid picture. Luckily, bergamot is by far the star and I keep coming back for more. Dry on skin: A wonderful bittersweet tea note emerges, a deep and rich assam, and the effect is suddenly of sitting in the shade on a bright fall day looking out onto the sunlit world. I was wondering how this was ever going to go autumnal, but it has. Far in the background, the dead leaves crinkle and crunch, and the citrus still twinkles. This is an interesting composition for the fact of the tea note being so prominent when it is, in a way, the most subtle note of the bunch. Even as it dominates the scent it feels like the gentlest whisper. I suppose that’s what gives the impression of “looking out” to me. The foreground is occupied but so smoothly, darkly transparent, allowing us to see the bright background gleaming merrily away into the distance. Eventually, the brightness dissipates leaving a dark, slightly green fragrance lingering for hours. How many hours? I’m unsure because I have not been able to resist reapplication. I would especially recommend this to fans of chypres. It shares their the sense of expansiveness produced by the contrast between bright top and earthy base notes. But there is no moss here, and the dark tea is a much smoother alternative. Overall this is a very cheerful, breezy, blend. Comforting without necessarily feeling “cozy.” This really strikes a new note for me as far as the lab goes and I’m pretty thrilled.

Wow I really hit it out of the park with this blind buy! I suspected this would be the BPAL ambergris for me—I love the note in general, and the fact that it is a kind of white whale that many perfumers try to emulate, but the BPAL version, while interesting, can often become overwhelming and cloying on my skin. Here there is real synergy between all the notes—it’s definitely salty and citrus bright, but soft. It does go a little “detergent” but I’m not really bothered by it. And it’s more interesting than a simple soapy marine-citrus accord. The champaca does its smooth ethereal thing and there is something warm, resinous, slightly spicy (I hesitate to use this word: think fenugreek or celery seed, not cinnamon) that begins in the background and slowly takes over. I haven’t really paid much attention to timing yet but it doesn’t last as long as some of my other BPALs and is fairly demure in terms of throw—I’m fine with both! It’s definitely present, just a shy and transparent cloud, a shimmering apparition.

Very difficult to describe for me. But a cool/floral vanilla is definitely the focus. The dew note veers ozonic and camphorous, threatening but failing to turn to detergent. The golden silk accord definitely involves a classic amber accord because the labdanum is noticeable (but by no means dominant) on me. The moss is subtle. And I wonder if there is patchouli in the mix—it might make sense in a “silk” accord as patchouli was used to deter bugs from eating silk along the Silk Road. For me, a shade dappled canvas of vanilla. Somehow smooth and polished.

I’m glad to say the weedy raggedness of this scent has settled way down since I first took it out of the mailbox. Now I am greeted with a huge cloud of white florals upon application. I get something reminiscent of gardenia: fleshy, fresh, and pungent. A wisp of Jasmine is in the mix as well. When I walked into the living room, my boyfriend said, “what is that narcissus perfume you’re wearing?” I sort of wish I got that up close but apparently that is what you are going to be projecting in this. Along with this bouquet there is a distinct stemmy greenness that recalls a floral shop. Contrary to other reviewers, I feel that this scent really IS about the base notes, which all but completely take over after the first half hour. Throughout the day I would say this is mostly a prismatic kind of myrrh fragrance with just a hint of the other notes detectable—a spark of life in the darkness.

At first this is all neroli, and a really wonderful version of what can be at times too sharp a flower. The vanilla creeps in but just rounds things out, and after about an hour a distinctly Japanese incense note appears. I don’t know what ingredient in Japanese incense makes it smell the way it does, but anyone who has experience with the stuff will recognize it here. As the day goes on, this is decidedly an incense scent, given depth by labdanum. What is really surprising is that in the later stages, the Jasmine suddenly comes to the fore. Given the art and name, I was expecting this to be a clean/dirty joke with soapy florals and dirty resins, maybe some indoles. Instead, I think the voyeur’s window is the main source of inspiration. I find myself in a dark, incense-filled room, with the window flung open carrying in the refreshing smells of neroli and Jasmine. I am not getting any rose, but I’m not missing it either. Edit: After a few more wears I definitely am getting rose, very strongly even! But it’s a pale, powdery rose that blends beautifully with the other pastel florals in the composition. I’m loving this more and more—a fresh and surprisingly innocent springtime floral done round and resinous BPAL style.

This one is sooo nice. Definitely has a kind of dark red, velvety vibe, but brightened by fruity and salty notes for the first few hours. This is complex enough that the notes are a little difficult to tease out. Plum, salt, oakmoss each are prominent. The teakwood outlasts everything else, but before that it really is a kind of burgundy haze in the best way.

A typical bpal beeswax comes on hard and heavy right out of the gate. Here, its “dusty” quality is accented, and I’m not sure I’m a fan. A barely-there bittersweet cherry tinge persists in the background. Just when I think nothing will ever change, the rice powder emerges. I agree with others that it has a cosmetic feel, but it also has a gourmand aspect, recalling first mochi, then marshmallow as the white amber joins in. The roundness of the amber slowly swells, surrounded by a powdery cloud and always resting on that dusty beeswax. Despite gourmand aspect, there is a vintage vibe to this. Something about the mingling of powder and resin, which only grows more velvety as the oakmoss does its thing on the drydown. A sweet and unexpected exploration of texture.

disclaimer: i have never ever tried any of the lab's "textile" notes or patchouli leaf, but i do like regular patchouli. so i have no idea how this is going to be. in the bottle: strong but light vanilla and honey, not heavy like O is to me. there is also something just a tad barbershoppy to this blend... not sure if it is the leafiness of the patchouli leaf or the silk. all of this is positive to me even though i wouldn't usually go for and wasn't expecting a barbershop blend. it smells good. wet: wow! this really is a "floating" smell. so light yet not exactly bright and clean with good throw. i'm getting a vanilla / honey / patchouli blend right off the bat. no smoke, which is a little bit of a disappointment, but this smells pretty good. there is something almost humid about this blend? i would definitely echo the "steamed" comments of some of the previous reviewers. actually, there might be just a little smokiness that is blending with the patchouli, but it definitely isn't prominent. i'm wondering if i'm getting benzoin or not. it could be part of the vanilla/honey accord i'm picking up, but it's not sticking out too much on its own. drydown: not much is changing, but it goes through a patchouli phase and then a benzoin phase this is nice and very unique! it is sweet and maybe even cloying to many, but it is so interesting to me despite the sweetness.

in bottle: this is so sharp! i'm not too familiar with oudh but that must be what i'm getting. i hate to say this but it smells a little like cat litter. wet on skin: the cat litter smell is being softened a little by the vanilla, but it's still there. there is a tiny bit of incense detectable, as well. no tobacco yet. drydown: this definitely softens/sweetens within the first few minutes. i just think i might not like oudh? i'm praying the other notes win me over. after maybe 10 minutes i'm getting oudh with a backing of vanilla. i'm testing this at the same time as to his mistress going to bed, which definitely has a gnarlier patch note. here i'm not getting any patch at all! the more this dries down, the more the oudh calms down. it doesn't smell like cat litter anymore, it's just lending a brightness to the otherwise sort of darkly sweet blend. i wish it didn't start like that, because now even the well behaved oudh is still reminding me of cat litter. I'm about to wash this off after about an hour, but it is starting to be palatable. I'm still getting mostly oudh, but at this point it is being held in check by the vanilla and a tiny bit of tobacco and patchouli are detectable. i can actually say i like it at this point and will give it a full day test soon to see whether this is how it stays. i hope so ! i want to keep this around to let this age a bit. it seems like the sharpness of the oudh might mellow out and the rest of the notes are favorites!