Casablanca

A paean to all the Wicked Queens, Evil Stepmothers, and other misunderstood villainesses throughout history and lore. Lends an aura of majesty, refinement, strength, and a deep, brooding malice. A sophisticated, womanly scent: rich myrrh and jasmine draped in the subtlest rose. I had an imp of this lying around and just tried it on without knowing the notes. I got a dominant jasmine (but not a high-pitched one), and the warmth of a little rose, and something that seemed kind of ambery, but not quite. I also got something a bit woody and musky. The rose seemed mostly red, but also a bit pink and innocent. I read the notes and saw myrrh listed. Then I could smell myrrh! It seems to be the part I thought was amber-like. I still smell something a little woody and musky in this, at least on my skin. After drydown, the woodiness starts to smell like oudh. I like this. Think I'm good with the imp, though.

When just applied, Solstice is an intoxicating mix: slightly smoky apple wine with creamy vanilla amber. The wine isn't super boozy, but it is sweet and appley. The tobacco starts light, just a hint of a warm, chewy leaf. It grows to a stronger note in the proportions of the blend, but the whole thing goes very soft overall on me as soon as the initial burst of apple wine fades. Too soft, actually. Before an hour has passed, it's barely there. What is there is mostly warm tobacco, with a bit of vanilla apple. I'm glad I don't find copal, because I never seem to like it as much as I want to. Lovely. Sophisticated. Disappointingly brief.

I don't know every floral note listed for 1868, but it's mostly moonflower and lily on me, with a breath of vanilla. It feels like an ethereal and vintage floral blend. Unfortunately, it was turning soapy on me soon after application, as some lilies do. Even though I feel like "Casablanca lily" should work on me. I thought it would be nice to try to fix it instead of rehoming it. So I tried it layered with Antique Lace on my arm, and they were pretty together. I used about a fifth of the 1868 bottle and added that amount of Antique Lace to it. This worked well -- no more soap, and the vintage vanilla feel of the blend is more than it was. Now the blend reminds me of a floral vintage wedding, even more than it initially did.

Red rose and rich red cedar, with a little teak and oudh coming in on drydown. Despite listing no resins, Our Hearts has something of a resinous quality to me within its rose and woods, giving it an oriental feel. Something here is reading as frankincense-like. The blend doesn't last long on my skin, though: not much more than an hour. Its balance is consistent through its life.

Freshly applied, the blend is blackberry-dominant on my wrists, but more evenly blackberry-lavender on my forearms. Either way, the two notes are a pleasant purple pairing. There's plenty of bergamot also, with its quality of seeming to lift a blend up. Beneath these, the white musk and green and tan herbal notes blend together. They don't start to seem individual to me until drydown. The musk is pale, floral, a little creamy, a little powdery. Sometimes the powder also seems to come from the herbs, as though they are the edible herbal powder you gel-cap yourself to make herbal supplements. During drydown I find lots of rosemary, and also seem to smell the fresh thyme I was breaking up for my bird to eat, and for an omelette, a few weeks ago. Sometimes I think I'm smelling a little tan herbal stalk smell that reminds me of angelica. Whatever the nature of the herbs, the blend is fresh and comforting. Periodically, I get a water impression from the blend. It comes and goes, but it definitely adds to the spring impression I get from the blend. Mummeries reminds me of early spring, fresh and herbal. But it'll come out on me during all the warm months.

This is a beautiful and quite distinct lace. Freshly applied, Emerald Lace is a sparkling green scent. It smells like sweet, sun-bright grass -- grass that's the vibrant green color of absinthe -- distilled in a tube and given a sharp aquatic and slightly opium edge. I wonder if it has galbanum in it. Within a few moments, the sharp aquatic vibe drifts off, and vanilla cognac enters the scene, spring-like with sap and a touch of mild green fig. This is a quiet orchard fig, not at all Fig Newtony. A tree fig, not an earth fig. The blend still smells green, but now it's starting to soften with the sepia of vanilla cognac lace. Once dry, the blend is a green-tinted vanilla cognac lace, only mildly sweet. I never catch any tobacco from it.

Each of Eternal Virgin's listed notes is a win with my chemistry, so I had no worries with this one. The balance is different from what I pictured before putting it on, and it intrigues and lures me in... First on, the cardamom is queen. Whee, I didn't expect so much cardamom up front. This is refreshing. With the cardamom, I keep getting a slight ginger impression, too, though none's listed. But under those, carnation and honeyed milk! Yum. My skin likes milk and cream notes, and loves when they're combined with a floral. During drydown, though, that ginger impression grows. And takes over. Where's this coming from? I know I can amp ginger something ridiculous, so while I like it in food, I tend to avoid it in fragrance. Come back, honeyed milk and other friends! OK, it's dry and settling down. Whew. Now back to just a little gingery whiff, mostly hidden back in the cardamom. This is a pleasant spice balance, with now much softer carnation and honey-sweet milk behind it. I loved the initial wet phase, and the fully dry one is nice. I'll see how this one settles. ETA: I thought I would actually update this. It's been about a month since I got this, and that initial shrieking ginger has calmed down into a balanced chai blend. I'm quite good with this. Yay!

Hello, jasmine dear. On first application, The Night Priestess is as jasmine-dominant as it pleases jasmine to be, with just a trace of cool, moonlit whiteness. This jasmine initially seems like a cousin of the one in Mare Vaporum (white sandalwood, smoky oudh, golden amber, bourbon vanilla, black jasmine), but it's a little rounder, less sharp, and it turns soft and pillowy in drydown. But back to the wet phase: Seconds after putting the blend on, vanilla orchid blooms out of the cool whiteness, as the blend warms on my skin. The whiteness resolves into a moonflower impression that brings Lullaby to mind (moonflower, iris root, French lavender, tuberose, white sandalwood, night-blooming gardenia, vanilla orchid, moss). The Night Priestess and Lullaby aren't much alike to me, other than that orchid-moonflower portion. This is jasmine, vanilla orchid, moonflower. It feels like soft, white night-flowers. The priestess doesn't bring out her spice on me until after drydown: a very mild clove joins the night bouquet. The clove adds interest, without intruding. I don't sense cardamom, but I expect both spices will increase a little with age, and I might notice it later. Lovely moonlight-themed floral.

I received The Mountebank as a birthday gift. It had been on my list and I cut it with regret, and someone knew that. Wonderful gift! I put it on remembering only that it had lavender and leather. I could smell those, but also thought, "Resinous beeswax vanilla? What is that?" All the thieves' rosins. Ambery, and balsamic with... well, some sweet balsam. After drydown, I find a trace of white sandalwood, but it's not a big player on my skin. The blend also has a bit of that dust note from Quintessence of Dust. In Quintessence, the note overwhelmed me, and I had to rehome the blend. Here it's restrained and not troublesome. The Mountebank is Rogue++, a travel-wise rogue with a lavender edge. I've gone from cutting it -- out of some try at fiscal responsibility -- to wondering if one bottle will be enough. ETA the dust note. Forgot about it. Dusty brain...

The Storyteller is initially campfire smoke-dominant on me. It's a cozy, rustic smoke of cindery wood, with just a hint of dark leather. The combination gives a roadside, night-stop, itinerant-fire mood. The leather note grows on me after drydown. I don't catch any beeswax from the blend until it has lived for hours on my skin. Then a surprise golden-brown sweetness emerges. It's quiet, and a little caramel-toned, as beeswax notes sometimes smell to me. It reminds me of the beeswax in Dalliances by Candlelight (beeswax, white patchouli, honey). I've wanted a great campfire blend for a while, and this is my fave to date. It has settled a couple days, and I'm curious how a couple months will develop it.

Mint, grapefruit, cucumber, and wet snow. Or something.

Red rose, Siamese benzoin, and blood orange. I wore this to work today and got compliments from two people. It's pretty and smells mostly as expected for the listed notes. The Siamese benzoin surprised me a bit -- before I looked back at the notes, I thought I was smelling some sort of resinous-leaning sandalwood. But maybe it's a sandalwood-leaning resin? The benzoin (or something else in this that's not listed) actually has a sandalwood-like texture to me. It grounds the scent, while being a touch exotic, and I quite like it.

This is gorgeous, sweeter and with more resinous vanilla than I had imagined from its description. I think Magician's Wand reminds me most of Harper, and a little of Antikythera Mechanism. As from Harper, I get a woody, resinous vanilla musk, but with an additional warm sweetness that brings to mind a bit of toasted marshmallow. I think of wooden sticks still sticky with a little sweet goo after you've removed most of the toasted treat. I don't smell any campfire per se (that's all in the Storyteller!): just this sweet toasted quality alongside woods and vanilla musk. I can sense a lovely oak in the blend, but no other specific woods. The Wand's balance is consistent on my skin through most of its life. Delighted with this.

I have some June 23, 1968 that was going a little soapy on me, but was otherwise a pretty, vintage floral. I added some of my Antique Lace to it (maybe around 1/5 of the bottle) and that seems to have removed the soapiness and added the vintage vanilla. It feels like a wedding blend to me now.

Honeyed amber, teakwood, almond, and coconut. Sweet coconut-speckled amaretto! Lab almonds tend to turn to amaretto on me: not boozy, but the almond syrup sense of an amaretto. This becomes a buttery amaretto swirled with freshly shredded coconut. The honeyed amber is also a player, adding a lot of smooth, almost creamy warmth. Even in the top phase I get a hint -- a grounding influence -- of the teak I love. This is a tropical beach vacation scent: a novel almondy drink served in a coconut shell under a frond-thatched, teakwood bar.

Eyes Skyward goes on me as an airy, grassy-green lemongrass and sugary-sweet lemon on a cloudy coconut. When I go looking, I find a little golden frankincense, but no sandalwood or vanilla, though the coconut has a creaminess that might be vanilla's handiwork. The blend is on the short-lived side, present only as a faint powder after an hour and a half, but its first hour is fun. It's a whimsical summer scent. Tropical beaches, Thai restaurants.

From the 2018 restock: I'm a jasmine fan. I agree with Roseus that Hal's flower smells a lot like the jasmine in Mare Vaporum. Mare is a blend I enjoy; I like to wear it for supermoons. I'm liking this one, too. Hal opens as this jasmine single note on me but, after a few minutes, I start to get some warm, hay-like woodiness, too. A breath of hay, with indistinct woods. After drydown, a little smooth honey comes out. Hal remains this woody, hay-rustic, and slightly honeyed jasmine throughout the rest of its life on my skin.

From the 2018 restock: "Sheer vanilla musk" is the perfect summary of Ava's dominant note on me. It has a shimmery quality, pale and a bit warm, like cream-colored lingerie in candlelight. Surprisingly, the tuberose and almond, both of which often take the lead for me, are quiet and restrained. I get a little more tuberose than almond, but they're both mild and well-blended into the vanilla musk. I love working with red mandarin in making soaps and lip balms, so I looked for it specifically here. It's present, especially in the early phase, but also faint and well-blended. Mostly this is sheer vanilla musk on me. I'd guess that in a few months, the other notes will be rounding things out a bit more. Love it.

Agreed! Sept is my current frankenfave.

My laundry but better, Wensleydale is a breezy, pale floral, cottony scent. I get an aquatic hint, like a little clean water. He has none of the cheap or powdery qualities of dryer-sheet smells. I love to wear this next to Cottonmouth on my arm. Cottonmouth's linden blossom, calla lily, passion flower, and narcissus seem to have something in kind with the floral aspect of this blend. I've tried Dirty and Boober, and prefer this one's classy-but-comfy vibe.

In the bottle, Velvet Cthulhu just smells green and strange. But it's been one of those blends that changes a lot in the open air. Freshly applied, this Cthulhu is still green, but more pleasant and nuanced. Green tea, grainy-green with wasabi and slightly spicy-sweet, comes out first. Along with a coriander hint, I get a gingery impression. A few minutes in, I catch a little sugary spearmint tea, a Moroccan mint: the Tuareg tea. This seems now to have been the source of the early sweetness. The spearmint grows for a bit, becoming the strongest note. It's soft and fresh, with the green tea and a little sage, and a faint base of frankincense when I look for it. I don't catch any myrrh or vetiver. Eventually, the mint subsides and this becomes a soft and complex green tea until it fades. On my friend, this blend was far less layered -- mainly spearmint, with a little green tea, throughout its life.

I've been craving herb (and especially mugwort) fragrances lately, so I opted to try this. I'm so glad I did. Freshly applied on me, the motherwort, bergamot, and a mild jasmine are out in front, combining beautifully, with hints of tea, ambrette, and cedar behind. This probably sounds like an odd combination, but it works. I looked up motherwort and it's not mugwort, but this still smells like the Lab's mugwort notes I've tried before. It's quite potent in this blend on my skin, and that's just what I sought. The motherwort and bergamot are the strongest initial notes on my skin, the first note feeling gentle and healing, and the second uplifting. This soft ambrette, which grows in drydown, smells very close to the Lab's ambergris to me, but without the ambergris saltiness. Its nutty aspect comes out on me in time, but I thought it was ambergris at first. The cedar also warms the blend more after a while; by that time, I've lost the bergamot and most of the motherwort. I only get a hint of peony, a little pinkness, like the newborn theme. This is a calming, comforting, and mood-lifting blend.

Globe didn't blip on my radar at first, but I went for it from reviews. On my skin it begins as a woody, spicy cologne in front of a patchouli that's soft and a bit sweet, and a hint of dark tea. This doesn't read as a rough or dirty patchouli at all, and it's lovely. I keep smelling a cardamom spiciness that reminds me of Unicorn and Ram. Actually, there's a cozy, warm-sweater mood to Globe that reminds me very much of both Unicorn and Ram (woolly musk, soft leather, cashmere, cardamom, leather oudh) and Hoiru (bourbon vanilla, suede leather, tonka, patchouli, pale amber, blackened tea leaf, coconut husk, cashmere). This feels to me like a cologne version of them. After this dries, as others have mentioned, the cologne part steps back. I seem to amp some spice in this, and drydown leaves me a well-blended spicy, woody patchouli. Sophisticated and mature.

Winters unmeasured | ere earth was made Was the birth of Bergelmir; Thruthgelmir's son | was the giant strong, And Aurgelmir's grandson of old. The father of a new era of Frost Giants, survivor of the deluge of blood that erupted from Ymir’s mutilations. Winters unmeasured: blue spruce blanketed in sleet, cypress smoke, yew berry, and frozen, brittle stems of lavender. First, in the bottle and wet on my skin, I get blue spruce as the strongest note, but its needles are woven with lavender threads. After drydown, I get lots of a somewhat woody-toned berry, which I take to be the yew berry. After a while, I find that this berry has taken over. Bergelmir has an overall quality of faraway, remote conifer woods, perhaps slightly haunted in the tales of a few villagers, with a distant smoky quality. I like it! For me it's wintery, but nature-based and a bit moody, rather than having any sort of constructed holiday vibe.

Gardenia and champaca reign as the benevolent, yet mildly intoxicating, queens of this garden. There's a sense of other flowers, but these two stand out for me. I agree that this smells like pale, waxy flowers among carved blonde woods. I can catch a little oakmoss, and a faint, warm, golden breath of tobacco. But before I looked back at the notes, I thought instead of blonde woods. The tobacco increases a bit once the blend dries, but remains light and restrained. The flowers, on the other hand, are more lush and heady. This is the champaca from Fortuna Tranquilla, I think. It's decadent. I'm pleased with this.