Casablanca

This is very delicate on me; it takes its time to warm up and come out on my skin. Once it does, I have a light but lovely creamy-vanilla rice milk, warm and sugared with some hay grains in a bowl. The hay note reminds me of that in Harvest of the Empress. Well after drydown, this blend suggests cardamom-cashmere, or something similar, like a warm sweater scent. For me it brings up the memory of Unicorn and Ram's cozy sweater feel (wooly musk, soft leather, cashmere, cardamom, leather oudh). This is a beauty and I hope it will amp a bit as it settles.

Rice milk can turn me into a drooling idiot, and that starts to happen here. At first, this is such a creamy and dreamy white-grain milk with perhaps also that gorgeous rice flower from Castitas bath oil, and there's only a hint of golden champaca and amber. Then fortunes reverse, and mighty champaca takes the lead, with tropical frangipani soon to follow. From then on, this is a full, queenly, heady blend, and the delicate rice notes get a bit lost in the grandeur. The blend is lovely but, after the first few seconds, it mostly misses the rice notes I sought. I'd recommend it for those seeking big tropical florals with supporting creamy rice-ness.

Sun-ripened blackberry, juicy and bright, is the dominant note. It's mingling with orangey bergamot, papery rice milk, and a little whiff of white tea. Something in here is tickling my nose in a light, powdery way; it might be a little white musk or something else. This juicy blackberry is giving me some blackberry wine craving in the worst/best way. 🍷🍷 I wish the powdery bit were not present, but otherwise this is a very pleasing, delicate, and joy-sparking combination.

Hello, ylang ylang! You tropical, waxy, sexy beast. You are forever seared into my memory since that time I spilled a bottle of you in the bathroom. Good times. This is Ylang Ylang SN for a time, and then some more time. But, after drying, a gorgeous golden sandalwood comes out. It blends well into a sweet vanilla. Candy-sweet, actually, like Marared mentioned. The trio is lovely and well-balanced at this point.

The initial play of this on my skin is a joyful burst of herbal lavender soaked to sweetness in a balsamic and sugar-crunchy honey. This is a sort of floral-balsamic golden honey that almost needs reheating, because of the sugar formations, but can be spread one more time. Actually, I think with the beeswax, this makes me think of chewy, sugary honeycomb. Lavender and sugary, balsamic, honeyed honeycomb. Yum.

A curious one. Slightly funky. The first impression on my skin is of faint champaca and black tea, with a little indistinct resin and wood. But this doesn't look like a top-notey blend and may need a bit to warm up. And also more time to settle. In drying, the champaca and copal grow, with their native spicy qualities blending well, and there's a little patchouli and frankincense. The black tea isn't quite working for me here, maybe? Something like that isn't sitting quite right, but it's also understated. The agarwood is a pleasant sort. Some definite Good Hippie going on here, but it's not quite together on me now. I'll see what it's like after more settling. ETA: Days pass... And this has come together much better. I am suhhhch a lover of a delicious copal and patchouli together, and this one delivers. Together with the vanilla, this combo is heavenly, in an earthy way. An earthly heaven. However, the champaca is borderline too strong for me. I also love that note, but these days seem to want a lighter use of it. I'm leaning toward a bottle, but still working out if the flower is too much.

Fresh on, this one warmly greets with a warm pink carnation and warm cloves. A little warm patchouli and warmer cinnamon bark soon come out. It's warm! The cinnamon-patchouli bark is lighter on me than the carnation-clove punch, but I keep noticing its rustic, bark-y quality. Its adjacent to a spicy broom shop, but is much more comforting to me. The vanilla is scarce on me; this is mostly about spiced carnation, patchouli, and bark. Homey! Bliss reminds me a lot of the recent Lilith blend, All My Friends Are Turning Green (honeyed honeybush, carnation, aged patchouli, sweet clove, opoponax). It's like a cinnamon-bark homestead version of it, instead of the honeybush. I bottled that, and see an internal debate coming over whether I need another blend that's this close to it. But I love this cinnamon-patch bark -- so I can't rule it out.

Sad Love conjures its description, and reminds me of the reams of wistful short-form love poetry that emerged from the aristocratic courts of Heian-era Japan. This is the scent that some tear-stained poems from The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Onono Komachi and Izumi Shikibu would carry. Light, aquatic lotus flowers. (And no bubblegum for me.) I find no special saltiness, but find a sense of skin, like that from a skin musk. There's an early touch of floral that reminds me of blue musk, but without most of the muskiness. There's also a breath of something fresh and spa-friendly, almost like eucalyptus. This could be an aquatic spa scent, though one a bit off the common path. Everything about it has a delicate touch.

This is a warm-weather, day- or weekend-vacation blend. It conjures a dreamy summer image of sipping cool green apple wine on a veranda overlooking the lazy green drapes of weeping willows over still pond water. Some white flowers, which make me think of gardenias and a little plumeria or tuberose, carry on the air's light stirring from some nearby grove or small tropical greenhouse. The flowers are creamy, silky, and tropical. The skin musk is a hint, rather than an overtly animalistic presence, and reminds me its use in Eostre of the Dawn. After drydown the apple wine mellows out, and the white flowers become the scene-maker. The musk becomes more noticeable, but never goes wild on my skin. Lovely.

Playful, pinkish cherries. I seem to also smell sweet pea or something like it; this reminds me so much of Mouse’s Long and Sad Tale. A little pink pepper nips at the edges, subtle at first, but becoming stronger and more black peppery on me as the blend dries.

Oh, this is nice. Fleshy black fig, sweetened and reddened with black cherry. Sumptuous. The sultry offering in the Cherry Bomb line.

Potent, fizzy cherry-almond syrup. Mostly cherry-almond syrup when wet; more champagne when dry. This is the bubbling red potion your D&D party bought on their last trip to town, even though the dealer admitted not knowing what it does. Whoever drinks it might have the lowest impulse control, but everyone will appreciate getting to see what happens next.

Fruit, fruit and, also, fruit! Fresh, tart grapefruit sliced in half and sugared. This strongest note blends like a fruity gradient of orange lollipop (what neroli does on my skin) and dark cherry. The dark cherry is actually a bit of grounding in this loopy mix. The blend grows a little fizzy on me after drydown. It becomes like a mild grapefruit-OJ champagne.

Someone poudh in a gorgeous black cherry. Dark cherries are my favorite flavor lately, and this black cherry is to die for, but I can't with the poop.

Full-blooming red roses sweetened with cherries. Wet: A little more cherry than rose. Dry: A lot more rose than cherry. This blend develops some powdery texture on me after drydown. Still full and round red roses, but kinda powder-chalky.

Our gilded silvery mud-puddler! His scent is of the blackberry bushes and wild lilacs in which he makes his home. Tart blackberry bushes. Freshly applied on my skin, Echo Azure smells like blackberries that are tart and dry, rather than fresh and juicy. Somehow I also get a little dried greenery impression, as though a few limbs of the plant have been cut and hung to dry, their leaves beginning to curl. Or like dried moss. As the blend dries, the lilac comes out, cushion-soft and blended into the blackberries. The initial tartness settles into a dry blackberries softened with lilacs. The dry mossy note, for its part, now makes me think of oakmoss and lichens. I'm not sure if this is just what my skin is doing to the blend -- but it's appealing, a little rustic. This blend is basically a visit to a Willamette Valley blackberry orchard in the dry part of summer. That thought is making me super nostalgic for Oregon. Echo stays in this sort of blackberry-country vibe throughout its life on me. ETA: My friend later tried this. It's not as tart on her as it is on me. On her it's just a natural blackberry. The rest of the blend is similar on her.

MWM&S reads as a smooth, nature-wood cologne to me. It's not perfumey, yet I keep coming back to a cologne impression when I sample it, especially during the early phase. I get mahogany, general woodsiness, and a mild, dry smoke, well blended and balanced. It's lovely, really. I just keep thinking cologne, which isn't what I'm drawn to these days. The blend does have a cologne's longer life on my skin.

Cold, slushy, dirt-packed snow among pines and junipers. I catch little understated birch, patchouli, cinnamon spice, and brown musk here and there. Once this has dried, I could get faint white floral, but it stays scarce on me. Raccoon is nice and slightly quirky forest blend. (After a while, the pines or something else goes a bit off on my skin, though.)

First on, Wolf Moon brings me a deeply purple and somewhat perfumey plum and mulberry, darkened with black fig. A very black fig. I like this, except for the musk-perfume vibe. But then pine suffuses the blend, a mysterious night pine, as from Black Forest. A fresh, green herbal quality also comes out; it reminds me of rosemary. This smells like fresh green conifer sap mixed with chewy rosemary leaves... in the dark. The perfume tone quickly vanished, and I don't miss it. Unfortunately, the deep plum-mulberry has mostly departed with it. It lingers as a background hint. A reminder of night.

Cozy? I want a snuggy? This blend is definitely a warm comfort. I didn't expect the homey feeling I get from it as the first impression, even before I notice notes. Then, I get toasted cinnamon nuts and dried, mossy grass, followed by an airy, non-intrusive edge of lemon. The lemon myrtle surprises me by growing in drydown. Possibly I'm amping it, because it gets about as strong as the bush nut. Actually, the lemon myrtle gets to be a bit much on me, but I loved the first phase.

Krampus's red musk, leather, and wood edged in a sweet but dry mint-snow that approaches plastic on my skin.

Mud-caked, slushy mint ice with a little soap and ozone.

2019: Cold vetiver slush on wet black pavement. Dark, icy, aquatic, musky, cologney, and a little oily from the street.

Red and pink roses, bear shag, and sweet mint. Mostly the roses on me.

Chocolate, wax, and a soft, powdery hearth smoke. After a moment, lots of wool, and glimpses of yellow paper. Brown leather comes out in drydown; chocolate fades. Then something in the blend -- the paper? -- starts to turn kind of funky on me.