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.

A Vast Similitude Interlocks All On the beach at night alone, As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song, As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future. A vast similitude interlocks all, All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets All distances of place however wide, All distances of time, all inanimate forms, All souls, all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds, All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes, the fishes, the brutes, All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages, All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe, All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future, This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them. Eternally lapping ocean waves at sunset, touched by the pale pinkish amber of the setting sun. Disclaimer: I am not really a lover of aquatics or amber (although I don't mind either), I just thought this seemed like such a unique and possibly beautiful combination. I'm not sure how helpful this is going to be as a first review, but I'll try my darnedest! In bottle (decant): Salty aquatic and something I can't quite place (is it the amber? the mysterious pink?). It honestly reminds me a little of sweat. Wet on skin: Again, very salty aquatic dominates. Even saltier than in the imp. I would compare it to Cthulhu (which is the only other aquatic blend I've tried that has worked on me). And yet something in the background is giving it a slightly feminine edge. Dry on skin: The amber starts to warm things up and eventually turns this into a soft, light skin scent. I'm wondering if there is a floral note in here, as well? I'm not even sure what to say about this other than that it is a warm, gentle (so gentle!) but salty aquatic with a certain air of romance befitting its title. This would definitely be appropriate for a work environment or other daytime wear, but there is also something so alluring about it that it might best be saved for moments when you need a little magic (although, hey, magic never hurt anyone in the workplace). Another successful aquatic for me! I don't know how much I'll end up wearing this, so I may be safe with a decant, but if I don't get a bottle, it's certainly not because the scent lacks appeal.

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.

In bottle: Rich tobacco and aftershave-like green notes Wet on skin: Same as in bottle. There is a bitter note that is coloring the tobacco, making it deep and rich. There is also a cool note that is interesting against the warm tobacco Dry on skin: Not much change, the cool note has subsided a bit, leaving the beautiful tobacco note against a bed of vegetal notes (doesn't quite read as dead leaves to me, yet). The vegetal notes do eventually fade into a paper thin evocation of the crunch of dead leaves against the beautiful tobacco note. The tobacco note itself is my favorite I have ever smelled from BPAL. It's not wildly different from anything else I've smelled, but it has a lot of depth. Later: I would encourage any tobacco lovers to try this blend even if they have trouble with the lab's dead leaf accord. I've never tried a leaf scent before, and I can't say I was wild about the green opening, but this ends up being a gorgeous, cozy tobacco note with just a bit of brittle leafiness in the background to keep things interesting. Think about smoking a pipe with a window open on a crisp fall day with a steaming cup of herbal tea in the far corner of the room. I'm testing this at the same time as my other Weenies (La Ronde du Sabbat and SN Bonfire) and this is definitely the comfiest. I think I prefer La Ronde du Sabbat, but it is a bit ostentatious. I'll definitely be getting more wear out of this. This really captures the spirit of fall in an unpretentious but utterly charming way. ETA: After settling for a week, the vegetal notes definitely do read as leaves. Although this blend still starts off green, it dries down to a delightfully wearable dead leaves scent. Think dry, crunchy, brown leaves on the sidewalk. The tobacco suggests the color of dry sycamore leaves to me, creating a more evocative experience than even a straight dry leaf accord may have been.

In Egypt is the city of Heliopolis, that is to say, the city of the Sun. In that city there is a temple, made round after the shape of the Temple of Jerusalem. The priests of that temple have all their writings, under the date of the fowl that is clept phoenix; and there is none but one in all the world. And he cometh to burn himself upon the altar of that temple at the end of five hundred year; for so long he liveth. And at the five hundred years’ end, the priests array their altar honestly, and put thereupon spices and sulphur vif and other things that will burn lightly; and then the bird phoenix cometh and burneth himself to ashes. And the first day next after, men find in the ashes a worm; and the second day next after, men find a bird quick and perfect; and the third day next after, he flieth his way. And so there is no more birds of that kind in all the world, but it alone, and truly that is a great miracle of God. And men may well liken that bird unto God, because that there ne is no God but one; and also, that our Lord arose from death to life the third day. This bird men see often-time fly in those countries; and he is not mickle more than an eagle. And he hath a crest of feathers upon his head more great than the peacock hath; and is neck his yellow after colour of an oriel that is a stone well shining, and his beak is coloured blue as ind; and his wings be of purple colour, and his tail is barred overthwart with green and yellow and red. And he is a full fair bird to look upon, against the sun, for he shineth full gloriously and nobly. Sulphur and myrrh crackling with clove, Himalayan cedar, and red sandalwood. This was pretty much a no brainer blind bottle for me from this year's Phoenixes. But I was still really curious about it for a couple reasons. All of the listed notes are winners on me, but I had never tried a blend with (I think) any of them in combination. I was especially curious as to how the clove would play with the woods and myrrh. And what was the sulphur going to be? Mandeville's Phoenix opens with myrrh brightened by something I can't place (maybe it's the cedar? it almost has a slightly citrusy feel). I was expecting vetiver to stand in for "sulphur" but I'm not getting any. After about a minute the clove and sandalwood start to add a little depth, but the myrrh is still dominant. After a few minutes, this is mostly myrrh and sandalwood with a little bit of clove. Myrrh has obvious funerial / ecclesiastical connotations and sandalwood always feels like such a serious note to me, so while this is certainly a sort of melancholic blend, the clove is a really interesting touch that adds some warmth and playfulness. The longer this stays on, the more the other woods come out and the less myrrh-dominant it is (although the myrrh sticks around, for sure). The cedar averse shouldn't be wary of this blend, it mostly just stays in the background adding some welcome brightness. This fits in well with my collection, perhaps a little toooooo well given my other myrrh loves, but this blend is pretty special and I would recommend it to any myrrh or sandalwood fans! ETA: Now that this has had some time to settle, I am getting some smokiness midway through the drydown. I love a smoky scent! But this phase also lasts maybe an hour so I wouldn't be too concerned if that puts you off.

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!

In bottle: patch (reminds me of the patch note in goblin) and a little bit of fig. wet: very soft comopared to what i was expecting. it's actually really hard for me to pick up individual notes. i guess i'd say it smells similar to how it did in the bottle but suffused across a backing of what must be vanilla and benzoin but really doesn't smell distinctly like either of those notes. it's not that this is faint at all, but it is pale and soft at this stage. drydown: wow this is so beautiful. i put some phoenix and dragon on my other hand and wrote a description and while that was going on the fig has really come out. at this stage it is a figgy patch that reminds me of the grave pig, which is one that i always was on the edge of getting a bottle of but never did. the vanilla is making this just a tad smoother/creamier than the grave pig. this has a pretty decent throw, as fig and patch tend that way on me. it's dominitating phoenix and dragon (ironically?). by the way, this is STRONG. i'm going to go wash this off to do some more testing, but after about an hour this feels pretty stable and so nice. A very successful blind bottle!

Nosferatu is my favorite rainy day scent because it is warm without being at odds with gloominess. I have also been really into the recent anniversary scent Mandeville's Phoenix this rainy week in CA!

I'm having a very similar experience to Aviatrix. A very fresh rose cooled quickly by snow yields to a musk-dominant scent a few hours in. The musk is pale and the blend after it's dry reminds me of a less woody Edith Cushing. I'm seeing this as more of a sleep scent than as something I would wear in the day.

Not a recommendation, but I am so excited to try my first snow scent (The Bear Prince) ! A rosy fuzzy musk is very safe territory for me so I can't wait to see what the snow does to it!

So beautiful. Wet this is all ambergris, an almost citrusy frank, and benzoin. Dry the sandalwood comes to the fore, supported by the ambergris and resins. I feel like most sandalwood scents don't quite do it for me even though I love sandalwood itself. This preserves what for me is an austere note (sandalwood) while adding some excitement in the best possible way.

OK I posted in here about possible dupes for Dior Homme Intense a while back but I just tested Haunted and dry it smells so much like DHI on me even though it shouldn't.

Wet this is dark, dark, musk. I love it! Almost immediately, I get a spike of citrus. I've heard this can happen with black musk. It's not overpowering, though, and it still smells musky. As it dries, the amber comes out to play but the musk sticks around, as well. Simple, but so lovely. Ok now that this is dry it is so so sexy. Dry amber and a smidge of dirty musk. It reminds me of a slightly more sexed up version of Dior Homme Intense, which is one of my favorite commercial fragrances.