Casablanca

Sweet milk mayhem! Fresh on my skin, this is a lovely white honeyed milk over frankincense. The milks are most potent at first, with a pale honey that reminds me of my White Bees Swarming hair gloss decant. There’s also an herbal tone, and I can pick out angelica (which I love) in the second breath, alongside another herb that reminds me of my early twenties, when I used to buy herb powder for sleeping and sit endlessly stuffing it into gel caps. That was valerian powder and it stunk badly, and this smells mild and pleasant, but it has a dusty, herbal quality that still takes me back. It must be the mugwort. In drydown, the honey and milks partly fade, but linger on in the background. The mugwort-angelica comes to the fore. The frankincense is subtle and textured, like the grainy wooden floor of a hut where jugs of honeyed milk settle and herbs hang to dry. In drydown the scent loses the fullness it had when wet, quickly becoming thin and simple – almost more the scent of someone working with honey, milk, and herbs all day than a concept perfume of it. After drying, this takes on a slight soapy note on my skin. In about an hour, I make out only a faint sweet and dusty herbal milk tone on my skin. I still like it. The wet phase is gorgeous to me.

Wet on my skin, this begins as so close to 2016 Pere Noel, with the orange-lavender-vanilla vibe, but more elegant and less playful. Blood orange has the edge on me when first applied, with apricot close behind, and then lavender and a creamy vanilla similar to that in Pere Noel, but less strong here. As this starts to dry, the apricot overtakes the blood orange, but both are still potent, and I don't really find the line between them; they blur together with each other and with the musk. The sense of them together with musk reminds me of... gosh what was it. The early stage of Allegory of Winter, before it morphed. Freshly dried, lavender comes out more on me, but the apricot-blood orange musk is still having a party. I jusssst start to pick up hints of amber. I get a background sense of sophistication and solidness from the chypre. Nothing from it stands out to me, except that maybe bergamot is adding to the orangeness. So pretty. I had initially wanted a decant of this, cut it to save $, and then ended up blind bottling it from reviews. Pleased to have done so.

Chilly green wood. Starts spicy-toned, but that fades, and it settles into chilly green wood. Christmassy, but not overwhelmingly so. I feel it would fit in just about anytime except daytime in the depth of summer. Glad to have bottled it.

It is what it says it is. Lavender-dominant, and it's my favorite sort of lavender, rich and herbal as Annemathematics said, with a shadowy, intimate backup note of oudh. I've been hoarding the last of my TKO massage oil but I like this as much as it. Maybe more. Goes great with Ganymede's lavender oudh for those of a mind to layer things.

I hoped and hoped for a roasted chestnuts-strong perfume in the Yules, but this was the only place I found the note. I like it. Oranges and apples are strongest on me at first, followed by a warm, gooey fig, candied apricot brandy, and finally chestnut. The whole is suffused with spices (including allspice? I think). It's a warm, old fashioned Christmas occasion scent. In that mood, it reminds me a lot of Mr. Fezziwig's Ball. It's foodie, but my brain classifies it as Christmas mood over food, if that makes sense. It also lasts an unusually long time in my hair, which makes me happy, because my hair eats things.

Anise or black licorice darkens wood and leather. The whole blend together makes me think: Spiced, rustic engine oil. It also reminds me of A Kneeling Child and Then There Was a Longer Name That Followed It That I've Forgotten from the recent Weenies. So I put that on and they go well together. I like how this pairs well with a perfume oil I have, but I'm not sure it's quite enough liking for a bottle. I like this, but it's not very me.

I love this one. On me it's a coppery-warm and soft, chewy-tobacco cedar. Cedar is the noun and operative word there; it's in charge and the other notes just contribute to its nature. This takes me back to winter vacations in mountain cabins as a kid, when I would lie staring up at exposed wooden beams in the kids' room, too excited to sleep. It gives me the same cozy feeling I get from Bow and Crown of Conquest, so I immediately put that on, too. They go wonderfully together.

Number 50 (L), so right before Numanoid! This one had little smell in my skin test at first, just the faintest resins, so I've let it sit a couple weeks or something. It's still quite mild, when first sprayed in my arm, in what appears to be a complete absence of top notes. It's barely there. Resins lurk, though... #50 is resinous. It seems like mainly frankincense and Other Lurking Base Notes on me at first. I smell no champaca or nag champa for the incense. I actually don't smell any incense while this is wet, or even for a while after it first dries. There's not much to it really. After 15 minutes, it starts to become a warm-toned incense-resin skin scent. Something is adding warmth beyond what these notes usually do on me, but it's just not showing clearly on my skin. Maybe with aging. On my hair, it starts out a little stronger and prettier: I want to say frankincense incense, with sandalwood or some other wood, and a hint of some spice, like clove? But it's so small. Sometimes I also get a slight impression of buttery golden rum and sometimes of a little sweet vanilla. This sounds so delicious, but it's all faint, and I might be imagining things. I need to see what this one does with some age. It could become precious.

I didn’t smell much from this when it first arrived, so it has rested a few days. A light brown sugar dominates the blend when it’s wet on my skin, a little caramelly. It’s picking up a bit of clove spice from the carnation, but I don’t smell the floral part of the carnation yet. There’s a secondary vanilla floral, though. The freesia’s got a strawberry tone, almost candy-like, but the way it’s connecting with the vanilla reminds me of tiare flowers. Dried, the freesia has drifted off and the carnation has come in, but it’s more subdued than I expected based on earlier reviews. Sugared vanilla is stronger on me than the carnation. I’m still getting a little sense of tiare, though, and wonder if there’s a dot of it in here unlisted. It blends right into the sugared vanilla, so maybe it’s just a combo of things reminding me of it. I like this and hope the carnation comes out more with age.

On the wand, I smell a mild-mannered, grainy gingerbread, and a blended sense of the other notes. But on my skin, this is whoa gingerbread. It’s still damply grainy-textured in the nose. Behind it I get orange, and a little red patchouli and champaca. Somehow the gingerbread gets even stronger as this dries. The orange subsides and champaca blooms. I’m a champaca fiend, so I like this development, but I feel like the gingerbread damply cakes up in my nose when I smell it. This one isn't for me, but I'm also not a foodie scent lover. Wanted to try some, though.

I had to sample this because it sounds so quirky. On the wand, it smells like the notes listed. The coffee is black, the vanilla is beany and smoky, the opium is blue-toned. The indigo opium smells like it could be opium mixed with whatever gives the lab’s blue musk its blueness. I like the vanilla especially, as it does smell like a toned-down and smokier version of a long, sticky black vanilla bean. On my skin, it’s a quite light scent, but it smells about the same. By the time it dries, the coffee and most of the opium are gone, leaving a slightly incensed vanilla impression on me. And quite faint already.

On the wand, this is a weighty myrrh, a dark and swampy cypress, and a chill minty fir. I like the balance of it. On my skin, though, it turns unfortunate. The haunting-woods parts of the notes recede and a medicinal quality that leans toward ammonia comes forward. Something in this also turns just a little sour – the sort of reaction I read about but don’t usually have myself. It’s slight, but ends up smelling off somehow. Dried, the unpleasant reaction settles down. The myrrh abides. And this develops a slight gingery note? Maybe it has some galangal? I’m not sure what that is; maybe it’s just my skin. This one isn’t for me.

On the wand, I get mainly bay and honey. On the second sniff, I smell brassy wood. On my skin, I get less bay, a little subtle spice, and more metal: I picture both brass and copper when sniffing. The wood is also more prominent. I can’t tell what type of wood — it has the polish of some teakwood notes but doesn’t seem quite as dark-toned or sophisticated. I also smell some gardenia or a similar flower, and the musk. For a white musk, it’s not coming off powdery at all. Dried, Bard’s notes settle into mellow bay honey with a background of wood. Pleasant.

On the wand, Jezebel smells mostly like honeysuckle to me, but I guess it’s honey and flowers. On my skin, honey still dominates, but now it mingles with roses and orange blossoms. The neroli turns partly into orange lollipops on my skin, but not as much as it has at other times. This is a nice balance of the three notes, but their natures make it quite sweet. Dried, the orange blossom stamps out the other notes and goes full-bore orange lollipop. This is its usual behavior on my skin. This doesn’t work on me.

On the wand, the strongest impression I get is a slightly woodsy and tart orange — presumably the petitgrain — with sides of musk, coriander, and creamy vanilla. It’s like a chilled summer white beer. On my skin, it’s similar, just more tart and now with a spray of thyme. It’s still got me thinking of Hoegaardens and Blue Moons. I don’t smell frank or sandalwood in this while it’s wet, and the vanilla is faint. This is mostly petitgrain-orange, coriander musk, with a sense of paleness behind it. Medium throw.

On the wand, this is softer than expected. Gentle myrrh and woody resin. On my skin, this is barely present while wet, an absence of top notes. Once it dries, a rounded myrrh-labdanum-vanilla develops. To me, it’s Reapers Gonna Reap without the sandalwood – like, there had been something behind the nice vanilla-sandalwood in Reapers that I couldn’t name, something that had reminded me of dissections in my high school Anatomy and Physiology course, and this is it. Too bad I didn’t like it, because it has the same effect on me here.

On the wand, this is mostly a cool, dry coconut with grainy, almost powdery, hints. On my skin, this is a dry waft of frankincense and sandalwood, both pale and grainy, and dry coconut. An intriguing, calm scent. It rests fairly close to the skin, talcum-like in mood and also a bit powdery in the nose. In drydown the white patch emerges. I can’t do dark patchouli, but quite like the white and red stuff. As with Desert Places, this overall blend reminds me of a desert, though the coconut suggests an oasis here and there. It’s like standing in white sands, watching them blow and tuft off dunes. Over time, the blend’s coconut develops on me into a slight cream tone over the whole.

On the wand, this is a beautiful antique vanilla. The cognac doesn’t stand out as boozy at all, instead combining with a pale ceramic or clay-like note to give an antique impression. The vanilla is perfectly delicate. I feel like I just walked into an antique shop of such fragile valuables that all customers have their hands tied at the door. Stays about the same through drydown and an hour later. I never get more than a hint of mild tobacco, scarcely there. I love new and interesting vanilla blends.

On the wand, this is mainly a subdued blackened vetiver. For vetiver, it’s super low-key. A mumbling beatnik vetiver. On my skin, this begins as a large vetiver coffee with a teaspoon of vanilla-flavored syrup. That’s about the proportion of things. I’m reminded of the Pacific Northwest coffee houses of my school days. The coffee also reminds me of last year’s coffee SN. The vanilla, sadly, fades in minutes. The vetiver coffee is nearly gone at a half hour.

Wet on my skin, this is a nearly even balance of fir and white chocolate mingling under a thin shell of glinty, aquatic, slightly chemical white snow. The effect of these together on my skin reminds me of a pleasantly lit synthetic white Christmas tree. There’s one of those still up in my living room. We really need to put that thing away. The snow and fir fade by the time this has dried, leaving a comfy, vanilla-toned white chocolate.

I opted to blind bottle this one for the lavender emphasis described above, and because I love leathers. On me, this was waves of lavender for the first 10 or so minutes of wear, with just a sense of darkness beneath. Then the lavender drifted away and underneath was a dark blend that hinted of vetiver, but smelled like it was still in development. Then the black leather came out. It was an airy black leather, as my hair tends to do to notes, but edged with vetiver. I didn't notice myrrh. It remained primarily black leather for the rest of its wear.

On the wand, this is unexpectedly candy-like for the listed notes, like some other reviews have mentioned. Black currant candy or pie filling, sweet and a little tart, further darkened and purpled by violet leaf, and grounded and given texture by sandalwood. On my skin, it goes less sweet and more tart, but is otherwise the same. As it dries it starts to feel kind of thin, but still sandalwood-textured. An hour later it’s sort of fruit-tart sandalwood, barely there on the skin.

2016 On the wand, this is… well, it’s the overstuffed crimson velvet pillow version of a rose. Inhale, and sink down into it, and down, and down… On my skin, it’s the same -- just a little more tannic, reminding me of a velvety red wine in the depth of summer. Then it dries and settles and is less forward. An hour later it’s barely there.

On the wand, it’s tartly sweet jammy raspberry, white powdered sugar, and a little fried dough, in that order. On my skin, it’s a tartly sweet jammy raspberry nose punch that sends white powdered sugar flying when it lands. Sock. And then a little fried dough happens. Medium-high throw. Not my regular thing but a kick to try.

On the wand, this is primarily frankincense and myrrh, with evergreens and a sweet reddish-pink glimpse of rose, as though through the trees. Something here makes me think of violin wood, like rosin or labdanum. Freshly applied, myrrh smells strongest, with frank a close second. The woods are present but subdued and the rose scarcely there. After drydown, this is mostly frank-myrrh on me. Low throw throughout its life.