Casablanca

When first applied, Mythological Scene's orris butter note is most prominent on me, blended with a sweetness maybe from the vanilla, a nutty ambrette musk, bergamot, and mandarin. But the King mandarin here has none of the bitter green nip that it had on my skin in Asp Viper. This is complex and soft, with a vibe of ancient-world aristocratic luxury. The red sandalwood feels to me like a lightly grainy wooden edge, framing the scene. I start to smell the patchouli as this dries and, just barely, the leather. The patch smells pale and a little earthy-powdery -- although the powder might be its blending with the orris. It's kind of like an earth bleached and dried almost to talcum dust. I can smell saffron now, too, and I think it's contributing to this impression. I like the way the saffron works with this patch. There's nothing outdoorsy or wild about this blend to me. It makes me think of subdued daylight on the dusty, pale streets of an aristocratic part of an ancient city. For no reason that I know of, it makes me think of ancient Rome. It's not very me, but I'm enjoying it, and I'm curious how it'll age.

Proserpine brings abundant sandalwood out right alongside her black currants. In the wet phase, I get enough pomegranate to add a dark red, fruity tartness, but it doesn't overwhelm. This isn't a complex blend, but it's dark red and smooth and sophisticated. This is the late-night adult conversation that the one child in the room doesn't quite understand -- not because it's sexy, but because it's matured and a little philosophical. The sandalwood has some throw when I first apply this, but the blend stays very close to the skin after that. Once this dries, this becomes a soft, creamy sandalwood skin scent edged with tart red from the pomegranate. After the second hour, I can barely smell it. This is lovely, and not much like anything else I have.

Wet on my skin, Bitches is a light, fizzy burst of sugared lemon and lime, like a non-diet 7-Up, and a medley of other fruits behind them. I smell strawberry and blood orange predominantly among the other fruits -- I don't think I'd have found blueberry, raspberry, or black currant without the notes list. The sugary note smells like liquid sugar -- like simple syrup -- with no sugar-crystal edge or graininess to it. Actually, it reminds me of caramelized sugar. Bitches dries on my skin into a little more fizz and a little less fruit. I wish it had gone the other way... A fun blend with a short life on me. Gone in about 30 minutes.

Before sniffing: How could I go wrong with these notes? Other than if the rum is too boozy and the tobacco just nasty -- which were my two concerns before I tried St. Clare (white sandalwood and tonka with sweet tobacco incense, vanilla-infused mahogany, rum absolute, and golden oudh). But I loved St. Clare, and if the tobacco here is like the lab's French tobacco note, I'm happy to give this a shot. Wet on my skin, Glugga is a beautiful, golden rum-suffused sweet tobacco; the rum isn't boozy (by which I mean alcohol-reeky) and the tobacco is the tobacco I like. I think I get a trace of vanilla, but nothing else stands out at this stage. Once Glugga dries, its rum steps back, leaving a light caramel hint of itself, and the cedar and sandalwood step forth and round things out. At first I think tobacco has gone dry -- then I realize that's the grainy texture of the sandalwood, with maybe a little frank, too. I smell a little spice now. The tobacco is still its sweet, chewy self. A good one.

Freshly applied to my skin, Trauervorspiel smells much more rough than I expected. The vetiver is strong but deeply reddened by the tea and warmed by the champaca and oudh. What a curious smell. It seems more floral than just champaca flower, and I also get a red fruit note that smells like fake cherries, maybe with a pinch of rosehips. I'm just thankful I don't get rooibos from it. Once this dries, I think I may have spoken too soon. It starts to smell a little armpitty on me in a way that reminds me of both red musk and rooibos. A curious smell, but I can't say it's a good one.

A lot could go right and wrong on my skin from these notes. First impression on my skin: Oh, this is lovely. In a complex brew, caramel is strongest on me, but vanilla/benzoin and patchouli are right up there with it and oh, hey, I can wear this specific patchouli. I also catch the iris -- another problem child for me -- and don't mind it at first, either. It has more of the pretty and less of the powder than most iris I've tried. I don't smell any carnation or sandalwood in this phase. Dried, the iris-patchouli pair grows to dominance. The caramel-vanilla is still present, but I liked this better when that combo was most prominent. Iris-patchouli were lovely as support notes for them. I pick up a little faint sandalwood now, but this is an iris-patch show. I never find the carnation. I'm just left feeling sketchy about iris and patchouli again.

Initial thoughts: This sounds lovely, except for my aversion to orris/iris. When first applied, Unveil is like ambery sunlight powdered with pale purple-smelling orris. And I do mean powdered. That's part of my disagreement with orris: it smells like a powder-room poof fight. After a few minutes, Unveil takes on a nutty, ambergris-musk tone that combines with the orris to remind me of macadamia nuts. It's an appealing smell, and less powdery than the initial wave, but still too powdery for my preference. Weirdly, my skin eats most of this within a half hour, leaving only a faint, slightly nutty orris skin scent.

Spellbound applies on my skin as a heavy, almost cloyingly sweet musky rose blend. I usually add something more here. But this is it. Roses. Musk. Equal strength. The dark reddish-brown fluid leaves a round mark like a bruise on my arm. I don't normally get along with red musk. But until drydown, the musk being the red sort doesn't start to bother me. It just blends seamlessly into the roses. Once the red musk dries, though, its usual slightly spiced armpit nuance comes out on my skin. This stuff and I just don't like each other. Later, Spellbound relaxes into a less armpitty rose musk. In this phase I can imagine someone else being drawn to this blend, but it just doesn't resonate for me.

Wet on my skin, Zombi leads with an assault of crushed and dried roses, damp dirt, and the decay of greenery turning brown underfoot. This is a perfectly blended me-repellent. The rose note subsides quickly on me, but lingers on as the faint ghost of a dead rose. As Zombi dries, the mosses come to my rescue: especially the lovely Spanish moss, a note that often gives me an earthy sort of relaxed feeling. It behaves like fig in that way. Unfortunately, the dirt and rotting plant matter still stand in the way of the blend becoming enjoyable. This was fine to try, but it's not for me.

Freshly applied, Euphrosyne smells like lemony gardenia-jasmine on my skin. Lemon, which isn't even listed for this blend, is strongest, followed by jasmine and then gardenia. I smell no rose or vanilla. The impact of this blend on me is high-pitched, needle-sharp, and nectar-sweet. It doesn't change, except to start stronger than it ends.

My first thought on applying Thanatos is a reminder that I loathe the lab's graveyard and loam-type stuff. There's a little of that tone here -- not a lot, but just enough to make me want to take a wee step back at first. The tomb moss is strong, smelling dull, dark green and grey to me, with a little conifer-blue. It smells like moss, a little decaying mint or camphor, blue juniper and/or spruce, and maybe a hint of pine. In the early phase, this is all I get from the blend. But Thanatos dries into something more pleasantly spooky. I start to get dry sandalwood -- a lot of it -- and a smoothing base blend that I think is the benzoin and mastic. Except that I smell balsam rather than benzoin's usual full-bodied vanillic thing. So, huh. Siamese benzoin? The incense smoke also wafts in, reminding me of Cathedral. These notes feel like the needed foundation for this olfactory temple ruin strewn with dying moss and conifers. Eventually, I catch myrrh, and with it, a little rose. I'm glad I tried it. Complex and interesting, if not for me.

Nyx on my skin gives an initial burst of high-pitched jasmine blooms growing out of a sweet myrrh base. Once it warms on my skin, the jasmine develops lemony and buttery tones, lower in pitch and more pleasant, while still being unmistakably jasmine. I only smell a little rose and myrrh behind it. This period is the high point for this blend. Dried, I pick up more rose, but Nyx is still far more the jasmine than the rose. The jasmine has also taken on a slightly powdery quality. I never smell more myrrh. I don't think this works for me.

Wet on my skin, Persephone emerges as almost pure pomegranate, tart and dark red, but with an unpleasant artificial note that smells like clear vinyl. Thankfully the vinyl fades as this dries and the rose blooms open. This rose has less potency than the pom did, lacks the depth of some other roses in blends, and takes a lightly soapy tone on my skin. I think I pick up a feeble musk beneath it. The blend turns weak and a little dusty in an hour. I'd like to find a good rose-pomegranate blend for my little gang of rose keepers, but it didn't happen today.

Wet on my skin, this is lively apple blossom (some of the fruit but more of the flower) and delicate mint, with blue musk behind them. I don't get any pine yet. I had wondered how this musk, described as cerulean, would differ from the dusky-toned blue musk in Midnight on the Midway. I do smell this one as a lighter blue -- not baby blue at all, but like that same dusky blue might look reflecting daylight. There is also a light watery touch to it, just a little tone that reminds me of water drops on celery, very fresh. I think of Squirting Cucumber. The mint is quick to take flight from my skin and is mostly gone before this dries. I never pick out pine. Grass notes usually leave my skin quickly, so I'm surprised to find that Bestiaire dries into a grassy blue musk with a summery apple blossom lingering in the air. Basically, this is idyllic.

2006 version On my skin, this smells like a hot and overcrowded street festival. Right off the bat I smell smoking incense, something that reminds me of hot street dust (but is nothing like the musty note in Quintessence of Dust), sugared candies, a scarce hint of tobacco, and cactus flower. What I'm registering as street dust is probably the dried leaves, actually. Behind all this is a vague sense of other flowers. I don't smell chocolate. The tobacco hint, already barely there, quickly vanishes. Once dry, the incense is strongest on me, but the flowers are close behind, followed by sugar candies. This is street-funky and makes me smile.

I waffled on picking this up for a while, concerned that its oak would be harsh or its components too simple. I needn't have worried. King is an oak and pine grove where everything smells soft. It's like walking into woods cushioned with soft-tipped pine needles, moist and sappy pines, and soft-barked oak trees. The pine pitch is camphoraceous, but verrry mildly so, as though its sap is lightly minty. Somewhere behind all this, golden light filters through leaves and needles, not clearly seen and never falling directly on you. There's a sweetness in this from the amber, but the amber itself is never strong on me, and sometimes I think I also get sweetness from a sugared note, with that slightly grainy texture I get from "sugar" versus just "sweetness." I tend to think the throw is low, but last night I put this on, drove out and shopped through a grocery store, and after all that the checkout lady lit up happily and complimented me on it from five feet away. I think I might need a second bottle.

It does smell partly like nag champa on me, but it's been 20 years since I smelled a stick of nag champa, so this might be one to take with a pinch of salt. :-) It's quite sugared though, and also sweetened by the lotus, which starts as a bubblegum note made spooky by the blue musk, and then settles into a sweet, enlivening floral. On my skin, this combined sweetness is stronger than the incense, but the incense that's there does remind me of the champa. ETA: I'm sniffing the 2015 version. I've had it since May.

Along with celestia's recs, maybe try Jareth? I'm not sure how old it is, but it's close to Dorian, with its own twists. Lovely blend. Ethereal lilac fougere with gleaming leather and ti leaf, tonka absolute, white musk, and oudh. The new Green Tree Viper is also a minty dream snake. The snakes are supposed to come back in stock this week, which would be within a few hours, I'd think.

Both when wet and dried on me, this is mostly copal incense -- dry, smoky, earthy, and woody. Rustic and arid. Maybe there's also a little amber, because there's something faint and golden, too, but this is nearly a copal single note on my skin. I actually get a glint of a metallic note when I first apply this, but it fades quickly.

Wet on my skin, Day of the Skulls is honeyed beeswax, cactus blossom, and light touches of cocoa, sandalwood, and frankincense. I like the way the rustic-leaning cactus flower plays with the frankincense. Gentle, well-blended, and smooth. Once dried, Skulls is a low-throw skin scent with about the same notes as when wet. I smell perhaps a little more cocoa in the mix, but it's very, very light in both stages. I don't really distinguish sandalwood and frank anymore. I like this a lot, though it doesn't live more than two hours on my skin.

Uh, Dragon's blood, is that you? On my skin, I smell rose and honeysuckle and honey like the nectar for the hummingbird, and under those, cinnamon or cassia in a faint background blend that makes me think of dragon's blood. I wonder if there's a drop of that, or just a shared component or two, giving this oil its curious pinkish-orange hue. As this dries, a beeswax note comes out and joins the other things. This is pleasant, but a little too close to cloying to be a favorite for me.

Wet on my skin, Hymn is an initial wave of lily of the valley. There's a background of... other. Other things, earthier, more resinous, but I don't pick them out individually, except for a little frankincense graininess. I don't know how much time I have... Not long. The lily of the valley turns to a creamy, white floral soap. A bit later, rose mingles with the lily of the valley, turning it into a rose soap. This is better than the earlier soap, but it's still soap.

Wet on my skin, an utterly fresh, dewy, full-bloom red rose dominates. A smooth frankincense surrounds the rose, less grainy to my nose than in some other blends, but it's very much in support in the early stage. The rose is queen. Once the blend dries, the frankincense comes out in closer to a 50/50 balance with the rose, but the whole has gone pretty close to my skin (low throw). It turns a little spicy and powdery, too. The latter is the only minus for me, but it's faint. This is lovely layered with Crucifixion.

Pre-sniffy thoughts: Palmarosa has been called the poor man's rose. Less scrupulous fragrance and essential oil sellers have been known to cut expensive rose oils with palmarosa or geranium and fail to disclose this practice to customers. I take it from having read this in the past that palmarosa isn't as valued (or perhaps as good) as rose. In this mix, though, the only listed note that concerns me is the patch. Wet on my skin, Wanton smells at first like a flat, thin red floral and dirty, dusty patchouli. Then I smell a little red sandalwood after a minute or so, and that entices, but this mix is a little messy. Wanton dries into a little more depth, but not as much as a full rose. On the plus, I don't smell much patchouli now. The sandalwood is pretty, but it's not quite enough to draw me in to the rest. Within an hour, Wanton has faded from my skin.

Wet on my skin, Harlot is a beautiful red rose mix, lush and full. The cinnamon spices this floral lightly at first. Underneath them, I smell a little musk and a little something vanillic, maybe tonka. Harlot dries into a stronger cinnamon, in the usual way cinnamon plays on my skin. I really like cinnamon, but I have to limit my cinnamon buys, lest I wind up with a box of cinnamon single notes. Rose is a strong player, too, though, so I'm hoping it can hang. At a half hour, the cinnamon has surpassed the rose in strength. The roses are a cushy red background to the cinnamon's dusty fire. At an hour, Harlot has quieted to a spicy, warm skin scent. Most of the rose has faded out, but it leaves a ghostly red impression of itself. This could make a pleasant spicy alternative to my current go-to rose, The Book, but it would need frequent reapplication, since it doesn't last two hours on me.