Casablanca
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Everything posted by Casablanca
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At the earliest blush, this brings a golden-honeyed honeysuckle with a backing of shrill jasmine on me. After a moment or so, I find a pale, powdery thing I associate with white musk, and the flowers start to veer soapy. There's a soft, pleasant greenery trying to come out, like the fresh green touch to the jasmine of The Bindle. But I struggle to get past the strong, soapy flowers and powder to enjoy it. I rarely wear florals anymore, so I'm not really the audience for this one. But it's also not the norm that a perfume gives me a headache... and this one is trying hard to buck that trend.
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Strange is Thy Pallor! Strange Thy Dress!
Casablanca replied to Seajewel's topic in Limited Editions
Wake up and smell the fresh! Cold-iced lemon and a soft eucalyptus. What is, at first, a nearly absent absinthe grows in drydown into a licorice-like lot of absinthe. Which is any-absinthe too much for me, but at least it's soon balanced by a mellow sandalwood. This is, like Fuck This Heat, a reasonable rescue perfume for if your AC breaks down or you are simply stuck out under the summer sun too long. (Add whatever charm against that here...) -
Many flowers are so blendy to me when put in a bouquet. Such is how Spring comes across, at first: a vivid bouquet of spring flowers against a background trace of incense. The flowers blend into one another such that I can't really call them out, but I could see lilies of the valley and peonies being somewhere in the bunch. In drydown, the incense smoke drifts out more; as I'm not much of a floral person, I really enjoy this aspect. On my skin, the incense smoke comes to the fore and manages to tone down and background the flowers in their turn. I like the blend better at this point. Once dried, this is more of a smoky incense blend with a soft, indistinct floral backdrop.
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Green greenness and greenery. It's pretty easy being green here, with this bright green tea, swampy green moss, green-wooded bamboo, and grainy green wasabi. At first, I mostly notice the green tea, swampy moss, and a general, sort of atmospheric bright green vibe that reminds me a little of a similar green brightness in Emerald Lace. But that brightness fades quickly, and the wasabi amps up, in drydown. By the time Frog has dried, it's mostly a thick, bamboo-woody wasabi on my skin, as I seem to dial the wasabi up to 9, at least. This would be a wonderful scent for me if I'd like to smell like wooded wasabi for a bit. If that ever becomes a goal (and I can't rule anything out), I'll think of this scent.
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Torch opens with a blare of black cloves and pine pitch ready to take paint off a car. I'm just here appreciating. This smells like late-night pines come to life to light smoky fires and dance and perform secret sap rituals. For those brave enough to sniff it up close, the cloves offer a delicious little dark sweetness. The dragon's blood is another sort of sweetness underneath: red, resinous, and slightly spiced. This blend smells delightfully and dreadfully devil-Yule to me. Respect. Wear this to your next midnight Krampus parade.
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Sticky-sweet myrrh resin mingles with a sweet dark rose and... actually, amber. Here I'm reminded of labdanum's contribution as an ingredient of amber in perfumery, because as it blends with the myrrh, I keep smelling an especially resinous amber -- sometimes with accompanying hints of cola and leather. The resins almost overtake the rose on my skin, but the flower resolutely continues to offer some dark red sweetness. The black musk remains softer on me than expected. This is mostly about the resins, accented with breaths of blood-red rose.
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At first, there's just a dry, smoky red saffron. After a few moments, a soft honey, red-touched with spices, emerges alongside a reddish metallic musk. The honey stays quiet. The reddish elements of the musk remind me of rust crumbs that have flaked off some tarnished antique, but the musk is the stronger of the notes. Although this musk smells a bit spicy and reddish, it isn't otherwise much like red musk, leaning instead toward an odd metallic tang. The blend as a whole doesn't smell filled out at this point, and may benefit from some age.
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Breathing Destruction From Their Lips Like Flame
Casablanca replied to Seajewel's topic in Limited Editions
Dried red fruits and whole peppercorns, the sort that look decorative as yet unground in a shaker. The dried red fruits smell mostly to me like dried cherries, red currants, and plums. The peppercorns remind me of the look of table peppercorns from when I was a kid -- especially the reddish ones -- but the scent isn't an aggressive black pepper. It's also less playful than "pink pepper" notes usually read to me. It rests in a warm, almost festive space between the two, and combines with the dried fruits to remind me in a pleasant way of decorated tables for late-year holidays. I'm really enjoying how this blend spices without the usual spices. The fig, which wafts in during drydown, further warms the whole and adds to that fall-winter holiday ambience. There's a tiny bit of a warm smoky-char note in the perfume before it dries. Other than that, I don't come across anything vetiver-like. Breathing Destruction wasn't in my focus initially, but I'm getting such an unexpected warmth and nostalgia from it that I'm considering a bottle. It's unlike anything in my collection now, and I might want it as a friend for the cold months. -
From Whose Eyes As They Glance Flowed Love
Casablanca replied to Seajewel's topic in Limited Editions
In the throw of a soft cloud, this one brings an orris-vanilla musk, creamy and smooth as butter and infused with sugary roses. From Whose Eyes makes me imagine a fluffy serving of rose-scented, perfumey cotton candy in a carnival hosted by unicorns. It should be the perfume of ombre hair with at least three pastel colors. This one is too musky for me, but I can see why the fuss. 🦄 -
Straight-up juicy green apple with a fresh, zingy twist of yuzu. The green apple (very green) leans tart in drydown -- not full Granny Smith, but in the neighborhood. I'm not getting much complexity here. There might be a bit of dry astringency from something, perhaps the ti leaf. But I don't find much that gets in the way of this bold apple and its bouncy yuzu sidekick. Bright, green, fruity scent for anytime spring through fall.
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Unarmed opens on me with a soft, dry, fizzy champagne. It's a champagne solo for a minute or so, and then a pretty, custardy sort of French vanilla emerges, smoothing over the playful fizz. A delicate sugared amber joins this little social gathering in drydown. The blend of these notes is lovely and super-huffable. I hadn't really had my eye on this one, but I'm taking some quality time with it now. It makes me imagine a few friends who've gathered together for a champagne sip under a mild afternoon sun, just to hang. It captures an ephemeral, companionable joy. I may need a bottle.
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The first time I sampled this, it came out as a lovely, naturalistic woodland glade on me: cool from the fir trees, warm and forest-beddish from the green moss. On this second sampling, though, over a week later: Pine-Sol! This is a change. It's now essentially Pine-Sol aerosol with some added greenery and vinyl-ish coldness, with the latter seeming to glisten like sunlight striking new-fallen snow. The vibe is more of the pine than the fir, now, and much more chemically toned. Interesting, but not my bag.
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Yum! Blackened Pomegranate and her friends quickly draw me in. Brown Sugar and Inky Wine are her closest buds; while there seem to be others in the crowd, Pom, Wine, and Sugar are the charismatic trio. But, this is mostly Pom's show. The pomegranate is juicy and bright, but with a shadow cast over it. Sugary brown sugar and sugary red wine (Pinot Noirish, but sweeter) blend into it. As Through the Gloom dries, it develops a cheek-tanging sweetness through these three. By the time it dries, this blend has gone a little too cloying for me; I enjoyed the early phase quite a bit, though, and I think other pom lovers will find much to appreciate here.
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White peach has sometimes smelled overripe and mushy on my skin, but during the past couple years, it has worked more often than not. Either my chemistry changed, or my tastes did. In Prospering, white peach is the strongest note, and it's a little mushy-soft, but also sweet and friendly. Bergamot lifts it up; amber smooths and rounds it out. I don't really find other notes. I would likely still reach for a glorious golden peach blend first (I've been so about peaches this summer!), but this is a great option for white peach cravings.
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Neroli. (Which, on me, means high-quality orange Dum-Dums.) Grainy Frankincense and Pink Pepper try to sneak over the barricade Neroli set up. I can catch little whiffs of them, but I don't think they're making it over. It seems they got caught and stopped. Smoke, you made it! [hugs bestie Smoke] Of course, Smoke was stealthy... I didn't even notice her approach. But here she is! I got Neroli and a little Smoke. I don't think anyone else made it to the party.
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Rain-dewy, gassy beeswax and amber. That sounds much less pretty than this is. Beeswax reigns, alongside a cool, rainy aquatic note. For me, there is a definite air-gassy note to this as well -- surprisingly appealing, despite its chemical nature. Its appeal comes from how it blends fantastically into the rain, making something that somehow reminds of both petrichor and oil lamps. Or beeswax lamps, perhaps. Over some time, the gassy note develops a smokiness, and I can imagine the glass of a gas lamp going darker from its smoky film. Lovely, unique scent.
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Everything and the kitchen sink is going on here, but let's see. Fresh on, there was an odd, light whiff of washed-out lilac against a complex background... and the whole is overtaken by a dark wave of spicy, blackened red musk. Sticky rocks of myrrh float in it, apparent and gone again with each wave. Fruits slowly find a footing in this new, musky landscape: peach and mandarin. Mostly peach. Honestly, though, it's mostly fruity and blackened red musk on me. This might work for red musk lovers. For me, it's kinda sloshy and messy.
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Brisk, snow-flecked white jasmine. The snow melts quickly on my skin, leaving a soapy-scented residue that overlays the flowers. Which, unfortunately, are going shrieky. Eep. This one isn't for me, but I've been out of the jasmine mood for a time.
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Labdanum, Red Musk, Scorched Vanilla
Casablanca replied to Seajewel's topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
This trio is a blend for red musk connoisseurs (which I'm not, but wth). Pleasantly scorched red musk with an undercurrent of resinous darkness. Scorched, yet not ambiently smoky. Until the red musk stomps out any of the scorched/labdanum nuance on my skin, like a rhino trying to put out a fire. I wouldn't say this blend is feral... exactly... but it's at least assertive. The faintly spiced quality of red musk even seems a little stronger here, compared to some other red musk blends. But yeah, it's red musk and this is a red musky perfume. It boldly occupies a space within red musk parameters. (Can you tell this is my friend's decant and I'm not a red musk person? I shall post this anyway, with that disclaimer.) -
Hi. Neroli is here! Vibrant neroli, telegraphing joy like a bank teller's orange lollipops. There isn't much of interest in a bank, which can make the lollies all the more noticeable. Likewise, at first, this blend's lollies are the only game in the room. After a moment, wee whiffs of blood orange and tangerine. Then, in drydown, someone throws a soft sheet of sheer gauze over the citrus. The blend develops a diaphanous, faintly musky vibe. This has become sheer, springtime-orange nightie-fabric. It's a pretty phase. Unfortunately, the lovely sheerness fades, and the blend as a whole eases back into more of a kids' chewable orange vitamin scent on my skin. Still a decant to enjoy, I think.
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This goat brings a lovely honeyed, candle-smoky goat's milk, with an abrupt, surprise chomp of vetiver now and then, as she finds something worth biting. That something takes its time in showing up as flowers on my skin. In drydown, though, I start to find pink peonies mingling with the rest, soft as breath. But, they continue to grow, and then perhaps overgrow, until I don't notice vetiver, other than traces of smoke. I'm going to enjoy this decant, though I think it winds up too flowery for me for a bottle.
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Bright, playfully artificial strawberries alongside lily-pad greens and clean pond waters. In drydown, a soft, floral blue lotus and warm-honeyish ylang ylang float to the surface but remain mild. It eventually rounds out into an odd greenhouse melange of strawberries, evaporating pond water and soft, flowered greenery. Playful and interesting to try.
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Sable Garments is a naughty cacao bringing a somewhat mixed message: Slap on cologne for a roll in the dirt. I mean, sure. Why not? This patch is sweeter and less fuzzy-dirty than what I got from another recent cacao-patch blend, Dark-Eyed, Delightful. But an earthiness still comes across through the patch and cacao. The mahogany woods and early cologne whiffs suggest refinement. There's a tamed <---> untamed thing going on here, and one suspects concessions on both sides. The cologne wafting around places this perfume in the bag of what doesn't work for me, but others will find more to delight in.
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First impression: Honeyed pink roses drizzled over something vanilla and nutty. Every Sweet Thing carries a light honey infused with sweet pink roses, backed by a soft vanilla hazelnut. The goat's milk isn't taking me specifically to goat's milk, as it has in other lab scents. It blends well into the rest of the blend, and reads to me more as a simple, softly caramelized vanilla leaning more foodie through its closeness to hazelnut. The rose remains noticeable on me throughout the wear of this one, albeit blended with creamy, nutty honey. It turns a bit shrill on my skin after it dries, so this blend would work better on others.
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Freshly on, this is thickly creamy almond oats on my skin... immediately bringing to mind both Almond Blossoms and Nightingale, as though it were their love child. As with Nightingale, my skin amps the crazy out of Precious Beauty's oats, making an intense vanilla-creamy oatmeal on me. My skin makes this an almond version of Nightingale's cardamom oatmeal... It's all the cozy winter breakfast you could wish for. I really enjoy the cream in this, Almond Blossoms and Nightingale. Drydown brings out more of the honey, sugar, and cake -- so it's breakfast with honey cakes for dessert. This blend is essentially bottled Winter Comfort Food to me.