Casablanca

Wet on skin: Woo hoo, black currant. The lavender is lighter and soft, without its harsh aromatic part, reminding me a little of heather. The white musk is present, but it or something nearby is going powdery on my skin. Maybe that's supposed to be the electricity? But on me the would-be sparks, if that's what they are, read as powder. A snootful of black currant-lavender baby powder. Dry: The powder partly settles and partly turns almost... fizzy. Yes, I suppose this was meant to be the voltaic charge. Mostly, the blend now returns to being lavender-tinged currants. No resins. I'll sniff again later, but I'm not enthused for Lurid at the moment.

Pre-sniffy thought: Maybe this will be an amber? Wet on my skin: Oof. A surprisingly sharp, golden woody smell assaults my nose almost into a sneeze. And then follows a reek of earthy black patchouli. Whuh? Um, so now this is single-note stink-patch. It doesn't smell golden... About an hour later, some cedar frees itself from patchouli prison. This certainly smells less heinous, but there's still a shadow of patch, and it's too much. Also not golden. Nope.

First up on my skin: lemon, jasmine, lily, and musk. On the second sniff I get lots of rosewood and a little sandalwood. The third sniff smells like iris, a little powdery. On the fourth sniff, I get a hint of sage. Ave Maria is a kaleidoscope. I was afraid the lemon would overpower this, but the flowers, musks, and rosewood are also heavy hitters. I'm experiencing this mostly as a woody floral, complex and pretty. I like this more than I thought I would. But it's a little perfumey floral for my taste.

Lavender leads on my skin, and for a while I don't smell anything else. After a minute I get an earthy background seeping in -- but nothing I can ID yet. While wet, Gaueko is almost single-note lavender on me, with its light purple and green aromatic smells. As Gaueko dries, I start to smell balsamic resin under the herb. I still need to smell labdanum and nag champa by themselves sometime, but I could see balsam of Peru or some other balsamic thing being an unlisted note in here, too. I also get sandalwood and maybe a little vetiver. But the lavender is still dominant. I think I get an eensy weensy leaf of tobacco, but it's so quiet and blended with the sandalwood, I'd miss it if it weren't listed. Two hours later I smell it more, but it's still subdued and blended. I like tobacco when it's like this. The lavender is, by now, gone. I like this -- now at three hours, it's subtle but lovely, quite incensey. I'm not sure that I'd pursue a bottle, mostly because the lavender is kind of harsh while it lasts. But I wonder how it would age.

2008 An eight-year-old resinous blend is probably going to delight me! Right away on my skin, the Ladder is a potent, earthy amber laden with musk, maybe from the ambrette, and just a little greenness from the galbanum. A soft sort of vanilla from the benzoin-tonka is also prominent, and I think that combo is also giving this a lush feeling. A beautiful oriental and one for regular wear.

Pre-sniffy thoughts: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, and Cancer are my moon, cusp birth signs, and rising, and the first Starstruck blend to call to me is also the first that doesn't show up in my chart at all. But the call is strong. I love all these notes. I cellared Leo for a day and night because hot mailbox. In the bottle: Carnation and a little herbage (I can smell chamomile and angelica). Leo goes through two phases on my skin: herbal-spicy floral and then spicy oriental. On my skin Leo starts as carnation warmed and fuzzied by saffron, with chamomile adding a sunny meadow mood, like it does for me in Against Idleness and Mischief. After a minute or so, a little of the grainy texture of frankincense comes through, but it's smoother than how it usually smells to me. I think I smell clove, but it might be eugenol from the carnation. I'm not familiar with helichrysum, but there's a glittering kind of note in here somewhere. Dried, amber comes forward so subtly that I can't tell when it got stronger than the carnation. The chamomile is less strong now. Later, the frankincense steps up and the angelica I remember from late-stage Gold Phoenix comes out. Both mingle with the saffron and it's lovely. Leo lasted around five or six hours on me when I wore it before cellaring yesterday, which for me is a long time. Overall, Leo smells close to what I imagined, although it's more morphy than I guessed. I love this and may get a backup.

On my skin, this smells like dark and dirty peach syrup. The fullness of this peach -- to which the amber is ably giving itself -- reminds me of the roundness of rose notes, but it's also sweet syrup. Thankfully the patch doesn't stand out by itself; it just dirties the peach. You know there's something wrong with this peach. After drydown I start to pick up the musk. It mostly smells like an animalic part of the dirty peach, like a peach with hygiene issues. I guess... this smells like a peach soiled itself. Pass.

An infusion of incalculable power and irresistible temptation. Truly an exercise in megalomania and self-gratification: frankincense and cinnamon, darkened by violet. Mm, this is nice at first. It smells exactly as listed, but at first the notes blend together better than I thought they would. Frank and cinnamon are strongest on me at first, with the violet leaning them, together, toward dark purple floral. After a few minutes, though, I start to feel a little burn from the cinnamon. Simultaneously, the violet steps out in front of the cinnafrank, dominates the blend, and turns it into an old lady. I hardly ever associate a perfume with old age, but somehow it happens here. After a while, I'm not sure I mind. This blend is different from anything I'd usually go for. I could wear it now and then.

I'm expecting something clean from this description, but Old Goblin goes on my skin as a hard ice smell made filthy by patchouli and maybe vetiver. There's a touch of frosty fir at first, but it fades faster than the smile on a face after bad news. Pass.

Soft, gentle icy moon. Pretty. There's a soft mint in this that reminds me of Green Tree Viper, but this moon also reminds me a little of Banded Sea Snake's fogginess. Maybe it's the eight years in the bottle, but no notes stand out. I just get a very blended and calming soft mint. Love.

Other forumites could likely confirm this for certain, but IIRC oil-based perfumes like BPAL have different throw/sillage/wearlength profiles than alcohol-based perfumes. With the exception of a few strong basenotes like vetiver, most BPALs only last a few hours on me, including the ones I've ordered and had shipped to me in the winter; I put it down to how quickly my dry skin absorbs the oil, because if I put bath oils from the trading post directly onto my skin, the scent has much more staying power than the exact same scent does in regular perfume oil form (ex: the chocolate notes from El Dia de los Reyes, various 13s, and Boomslang vanish into my skin quickly, but the same chocolate note in Marshmallow Cookie Pie bath oil lasts overnight and is still detectable the next morning). Ja, basically... In an alcohol-based perfume, the alcohol carries the fragrance compounds outward with it as it evaporates. So these tend to have a little more throw/sillage. In an oil-based blend, some fragrance goes out, but a good portion of the oil sinks into your skin, so it's a little more of a personal experience for the wearer. A little less throw... as a tendency. Not that there aren't alcohol perfumes with poor throw and oil perfumes with notes that have crazy throw... but these seem to be the tendencies, and why. I'm waiting for science to confirm oil perfume sentience and ability to project those notes we personally like least. I'm not sure how or if this plays into longevity, though...

As the notes say, on the wand, it smells like the lab's dragon's blood, spiced up and maybe a little honeyed. Of the spices, I smell the clove first, then cinnamon, then black pepper. In some blends I haven't liked black pepper, but it fits in here and doesn't overwhelm. On my skin, the black pepper amps up at first, then settles down into the cinnamon, which is also strong. I can feel a slight burning from the skin irritants in the oil where I applied this on the inside of my elbow. A sensitive spot, but I just feel it, and see no flush to the skin. The slight honeyed note on the wand fluffs out to a sweet cake-like smell on my skin, so this is like wearing a very heavily spiced cake. This has by far the strongest throw of today's four test scents. Anger is spice cake. Mostly cinnamon cake. Who knew?

A heady, dedicated, syrupy floral, very much a bouquet blend. Lilac, rose, heliotrope and more? Something here reminds me of the dragon's blood fruity floral, though the color of this oil is much lighter. This is fine but too committed to flowers for me. Pass.

Can't resist gold. Can't resist alchemy. I just hope the verbena behaves. Wet on skin: Hi, verbena. High-pitched, narrow, piercing lemon verbena, with a vague sense of something golden behind it. After a minute, I get a light graininess from the frankincense. Very light -- as usual, where there is verbena, there's mostly just verbena. After 10 minutes, the ambers start to step out from behind verbena's cool lemon drape and warm things up. Now this is starting to smell pretty. Very pretty. Glittering, but resinous. Yay, this is what I wanted! After that, I get just a little fruity, almost cherry-vanilla floral of heliotrope coming into the blend. A light, nice touch. I'm also not getting a lot of verbena now. The lingering verbena is soft. Double yay! Almost two hours later, I smell more of the frank in the mix again, and something I like that I don't recognize. Angelica or gum arabic? It's soft, rooty, and intriguing. I love this. Gold Phoenix turned out much better than I thought it would when I first applied it. I finally found something with verbena in it that can relax the verbena!

It feels like a cat's age since I wore jasmine. New Orleans goes on my skin as jasmine, honeysuckle, and an aromatic that takes me by surprise -- lavender? Yes, at first I get loads of unlisted lavender. It's like I just applied TKO for the night. Behind this trio, there is, as described, a hint of lemon and spices. At first I think I smell a little distinct black pepper, but after a bit the spices are just all blendy spices. Lavender is strongest on my skin at first, but in a few minutes, honeysuckle and jasmine step to the front. Now I seem to also smell a little background vanilla. A summer scent. I'm liking it.

Interesting. I haven't smelled Balm of Gilead to my knowledge, and something new is leading here, when this is wet on my skin, so maybe that's it. This smells balsamic, woody, and resinous with a touch of saffron and sage. There are some notes listed that I'm not picking out, though. Some of them I don't know. Once this has dried, I think I smell beeswax mingling in with the other notes, but if so, it's different from how I remember it in Lights of Men's Lives, but I like it. The frankincense also smells more grainy than before -- and maybe other things, too. This is an interesting and textured blend. Different! I like it.

I love all these notes, except the verbena. First impression: A heavily citrused amber. Verbena's lemon leads alongside what might be lime and grapefruit; the amber is like softly glowing back-lighting. Too softly. The problem here is the usual verbena one: its high-pitched lemon whine takes over. I can barely catch the other citrus, the amber, and the warmth of the cedar behind the verbena. This would be much more lovely without it. Three hours later: Soft verbena. Still barely catch anything else behind it. Verbena just won't share the sandbox. Pass.

Ploutos has a first impression on my skin of bold, golden amber and a sweet, earthy, mostly oudh background. I get only a little blended smoke and leather at first, and then they fade. The honey comes across on my skin as a golden sweetness blended into the amber more than a standalone honey note. Over a couple hours, the amber steps back and the oudh steps up, stronger now. I never smell patchouli, and I'm grateful. I wish I got more than a quick glimpse of the smoke and leather, but this is a lovely, golden, earthy-sweet oriental. I wish I could get more.

Whew! Violet and red currant whammy. These shine by themselves for a few seconds -- long enough for me to like them and look forward to more -- and then patchouli shows up and asses it all. The patch ruthlessly crushes the flowers and fruits under its mean, fibrous heel, and sits on them with its nasty self. I look for Spanish moss to save this, but it's nowhere to be sniffed. The patch follows the rule (never written, but observed by many) that the notes we don't like have the greatest throw. It sends its odor wide, blasting out the other test scents for today. I'm glad I put this on last. Now to scrub it off?

Pink, citrusy, and floral. Very flamingo. The lime, grapefruit, and nectarine open as expected, but on my skin the rose appears immediately with them, adding a floral fullness. The little bit of sage adds interest. After a few minutes, I smell some lightly bitter bergamot and the start of a cozy, fuzzy musk. Over time the musk grows, standing in stark opposition to the spring energy of the citrus, not blending, but making contrast. I don't smell patchouli when this is wet, but once it has dried, I get a light, earthy dusting of it, not bothersome at all. Very nice. A win for me.

Vanilla, amber, and sweetness... The sweet pea is strong, but smells so innocent and dainty! I thought the sandalwood would take a bit to show up, but I can smell its light, grainy texture right away, making the sweet pea more interesting. This is a very pretty blend -- a little too much floral innocence for me, but so lovely for the right person.

Bunnies? This is a scent for 400 drunken Mexican cocoa bunnies? ++! As soon as I apply this, before I go to sniff, I'm hit with a wave of slightly sour red wine. Oh no. At distance I get only sour red booze, but up close I get a delicious bittersweet, slightly smoky cocoa and redder smells: the sweeter part of the wine, and something like red floral-fruity dragon's blood. I also get some sort of incense. I like the bittersweet cocoa-incense part of this, and the red floral-fruity thing brings a nice bloom of warmth. The sour red wine stuff can go home. Luckily, the sourness fades after a bit. I like it after that.

The scent of Irish coffee, dusty tomes and polished oakwood halls. This must be a lovely scent for the cold-weather months. Miskatonic opens with a rush of Irish-creamy coffee, such that drinking only my morning water is no longer satisfactory. Behind the initial coffee wave comes an impression of polished wood -- oak -- and the single puff of dust you blow from an old book. There's no overwhelming, repulsive mustiness as in Quintessence of Dust, just a little dust, barely there. Sadly, Miskatonic fades from my skin with cruel rapidity. In maybe 20 minutes, it's just a breath of dust and dry coffee.

On the wand, Ectoplasm is brightly lemony and medicinal enough to be a gleaming yellow cough syrup. On my skin... it's the same. I get a hint of the pale amber that I smelled in the prototype, but this is mostly lemon medicine. Later, it turns toward lemon dish suds on my skin, but it wasn't that way immediately, as the prototype was that I tried.

OK, yes. Rum and hookers and warmth and wood. (This might make a fair title for Song of Ice and Fire, book six. George RR, take note?) I smell a lot of orange in this. It's like orange clove-cinnamon rum, warmly glowing polished wood, and a vaguely unpleasant perfumey thing, something red and floral. The rum isn't very boozy, and I'm all about the spice. It's the orange mingling with the red floral perfumey thing that's going sickly sweet on my skin, and making me go hrm, maybe not. After maybe 15 minutes, I get a little salt in the nose, subtle as dried spray. Overall, Port Royal is OK. I'll use the sample but wouldn't seek a bottle.