Casablanca

She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted. A rallying call: golden oudh, frankincense, iris, and steel. Proceeds from this scent benefit EMILYs List, an organization that supports electing pro-choice Democratic women to office. This hasn't been long out of the mailbox, but it's late in the day and around 60 F outside, mild and temperate. In the bottle, I smell soft resins and a hint of metal. Fresh on my skin, this smells to me like the oudh from Bestla, but lightened and softened considerably. The slight fecal note in the oudh is quieter and burns off almost entirely from me in a couple minutes (Bestla's ripe phase lasts longer on me). Frankincense is there, golden-toned, and the rest is so far just a faint softness, barely showing up. Once this dries it fills out nicely. The oudh abides, like the Dude. It's only a little stronger on my skin than the frank, and there's a vanillic golden impression that reminds me of benzoin. Iris I find at first only from hunting around: it starts out more or less on the outskirts of the blend, adding a little powdery femininity, but after some dry-time it comes out more. There's also a grey metallic background that brings Ganymede to mind. Nevertheless' wet phase underwhelms for now, but I think its full life on my skin will likely improve with age. I like it already, though.

Darkness; a sensation of falling-as if he were tumbling down a great hole, like Alice. He fell for a hundred years into darkness. Faces passed him, swimming out of the black, then each face was ripped up and away before he could touch it . . . Abruptly, and without transition, he was not falling. Now he was in a cave, and he was no longer alone. Shadow stared into familiar eyes: huge, liquid black eyes. They blinked. Under the earth: yes. He remembered this place. The stink of wet cow. Firelight flickered on the wet cave walls, illuminating the buffalo head, the man's body, skin the color of brick clay. "Can't you people leave me be?" asked Shadow. "I just want to sleep." The buffalo man nodded, slowly. His lips did not move, but a voice in Shadow's head said, "Where are you going, Shadow?" "Cairo." "Why?" "Where else have I got to go? It's where Wednesday wants me to go. I drank his mead." In Shadow's dream, with the power of dream logic behind it, the obligation seemed unarguable: he drank Wednesday's mead three times, and sealed the pact-what other choice of action did he have? The buffalo-headed man reached a hand into the fire, stirring the embers and the broken branches into a blaze. "The storm is coming," he said. Now there was ash on his hands, and he wiped it onto his hairless chest, leaving soot-black streaks. "So you people keep telling me. Can I ask you a question?" There was a pause. A fly settled on the furry forehead. The buffalo man flicked it away. "Ask." "Is this true? Are these people really gods? It's all so . . ." He paused. Then he said, "impossible," which was not exactly the word he had been going for but seemed to be the best he could do. "What are gods?" asked the buffalo man. "I don't know," said Shadow. Warm dark brown musk, woodsmoke, and deep pools of labdanum. In the bottle, there’s a heavy, dark brown labdanum, imbued with a Faunalia sort of musk and a little smoke. It smells moody, weighty, and thick. On my skin, this is so heavy brown animal. The liquid itself is dark brown. It smells musky, woody, smoky, resinous, and brown. This is the herd animal stamping on the plain, or the rugged man wanting sexy times by the campfire. The woodsmoke smells to me like that from Baby’s First Krampuslauf, which is what I hoped for. I liked that note. Those who enjoyed that, or blends like Faunalia and Coyote, might want to try the buffalo, too.

Spun sugar, frankincense, white rose, mallow root, red currant, and vanilla mint. Alisz goes on me mostly as a sugary, chewy vanilla mint with a little poofy marshmallow, and a hint of red fruitiness I couldn't name before re-checking the notes. When I hunt around for it, I get a pale, subtle rose and faint frankie texture, but she is mainly a confectionary vanilla mint for me, chewy like a taffy. She doesn't change much on me as she dries, and lasts under two hours (for me, a bit under average). I like her, so even though the balance isn't what I was after, I'll enjoy the bottle. ETA: Wearing this again today, I wanted to add that when this bottle was new, it smelled mostly of sugary vanilla mint. After a few months, I tried her again and was getting more of the red currant, spun sugar, and mallow in the blend. Alisz has come into her own and, knowing that, I'm likely to nab a second bottle at some point.

There was a woman sitting on the grass, under a tree, with a paper tablecloth spread in front of her, and a variety of Tupperware dishes on the cloth. She was—not fat, no, far from fat: what she was, a word that Shadow had never had cause to use until now, was curvaceous. Her hair was so fair that it was white, the kind of platinum-blonde tresses that should have belonged to a long-dead movie starlet, her lips were painted crimson, and she looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty. As they reached her she was selecting from a plate of deviled eggs. She looked up as Wednesday approached her, put down the egg she had chosen, and wiped her hand. “Hello, you old fraud,” she said, but she smiled as she said it, and Wednesday bowed low, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. He said, “You look divine.” “How the hell else should I look?” she demanded, sweetly. “Anyway, you’re a liar. New Orleans was such a mistake—I put on, what, thirty pounds there? I swear. I knew I had to leave when I started to waddle. The tops of my thighs rub together when I walk now, can you believe that?” This last was addressed to Shadow. He had no idea what to say in reply, and felt a hot flush suffuse his face. The woman laughed delightedly. “He’s blushing! Wednesday, my sweet, you brought me a blusher. How perfectly wonderful of you. What’s he called?” “This is Shadow,” said Wednesday. He seemed to be enjoying Shadow’s discomfort. “Shadow, say hello to Easter.” Jasmine and honeysuckle, sweet milk and female skin. What a pretty blend. Freshly applied, jasmine is strongest on me, but it's as closely entwined with honeysuckle as flowering vines on a trellis. The jasmine smells heady at first, but not high-pitched. Honeysuckle and a creamy milkiness add a lovely fullness to the blend. I also get a subtle musk. Once this dries, I mostly get smooth honeysuckle milk. This reminds me of this past year's Poor Monkey, which I loved, but with a little more throw (Poor Monkey had almost no throw on me once it dried). I wasn't expecting this and am so pleased by it. The milk is combining with the honeysuckle in a way that brings the ylang ylang milk of Monkey to mind. This sort of thing loves my skin.

Crushed Baltic amber, golden fig, oud wood, red patchouli, white clove, and saffron. Mm, this is a nice amber. When I tested it I only remembered it was an amber, not the other notes, and it smelled to me like amber (primarily), blonde woods, redwood, carnation, and saffron. I looked up the notes and it seems like maybe the golden fig and oudh together remind me of blond woods. :-) I was reading red patch as redwood and the clove as carnation. OK then. Why haven't I tried to do it this way more often, where I don't remember what I'm smelling, and then get to see? It's literally Christmas in July. Probably because I look at the scents so much when they come out that I memorize them. This time I looked a couple times, ordered, and not again. This is much better than testing scents without listed notes. Reading the list is like opening the Christmas prezzie after you've rattled the box enough and made your guesses. Ramble. So yeah, good blend. :-) Another one I'd like to hang around to age. I might have to forget I have her for her to avoid my attention that long, though.

Pale bergamot, labdanum, white incense, vanilla-tinged musk, Burmese oudh and tea rose. Not remembering any notes for Harper, I got a luscious, sexy wood musk -- I was thinking rosewood and teak, but see instead rose and oudh -- and a little lazy, subdued vanilla. The labdanum and incense are also out in the ring. I love the way the incense blends into the wood here, almost as though it's part of the wood grain. I don't pick up bergamot at any point, so seeing that one in the notes list was a surprise. I should forget what's in an ordered fragrance more often, because this was fun. I like this and look forward to its old age... if it lasts that long.

Her hair was pale and colorless in the moon's thin light. She wore a white cotton nightgown, with a high lace neck and a hem that swept the ground. Shadow sat up, entirely awake. "You are Zorya Polu . . . ," he hesitated. "The sister who was asleep." "I am Zorya Polunochnaya, yes. And you are called Shadow, yes? That was what Zorya Vechernyaya told me, when I woke." "Yes. What were you looking at, out there?" She looked at him, then she beckoned him to join her by the window. She turned her back while he pulled on his jeans. He walked over to her. It seemed a long walk, for such a small room. He could not tell her age. Her skin was unlined, her eyes were dark, her lashes were long, her hair was to her waist and white. The moonlight drained colors into ghosts of themselves. She was taller than either of her sisters. She pointed up into the night sky. "I was looking at that," she said, pointing to the Big Dipper. "See?" "Ursa Major," he said. "The Great Bear." "That is one way of looking at it," she said. "But it is not the way from where I come from. I am going to sit on the roof. Would you like to come with me?" Pale amber and ambergris, gossamer vanilla, moonflower, and white tobacco petals. This one will get a lot of love. Gossamer is the perfect word for Zorya P. I get mostly what I'm thinking of as a lunar vanilla. Moonflower, ethereal vanilla, evoking bluish-white colors for me. Everything else is too blended for me to pick anything out. I'm amazed at what seems to be the tobacco petals -- for anything tobacco-like, it's such a light touch. But there is a slight grounding influence it's giving. I keep getting a stronger floral impression than just moonflower, and I think it's that. I'm relieved not to get saltiness from the ambergris; the note comes out more on my skin as this dries. I don't smell amber but there's a fullness to the blend that I associate with it. This is gorgeous and smells to me like the signature blend of underworld's kindest ghost.

White sandalwood and tonka with sweet tobacco incense, vanilla-infused mahogany, rum absolute, and golden oudh. In the bottle, and as the first impression on my skin, St. Clare leads with tobacco. To this point I've mostly found that I can't do tobacco-heavy blends, and that the leaves are just good for me as a support note, like how it blends into an earthy base in Gaueko. But this is a lush tobacco, not dry or jarring, and I think it's changing my mind. Not just it, I guess, but the way it plays in this blend: there's a warm, deep, and almost sugary vanillic tone to the rest, a little bit woody, and very full, from the vanilla mahogany and... I guess tonka, but when I smell this I want to say benzoin, too. The whole is colored with a golden vapor of rum, warm and a little caramelly. The golden warmth might be coming from the oudh. I was afraid of the tobacco and rum but, on me, the former is lovely, and the latter is a lovely support. This'll be a precious for late summer and fall, that time of year for temperature warmth shifting to color warmth. Love.

Lilith's interpretation. From the Littlest Perfumer: “It's a happy moon. It is beautiful, shiny and it makes me think of magical blueberries. It makes wishes come true, and puts a smile on your face.” Vanilla blueberry bubblegum. From the bottle, Blue Unicorn Moon reads to me as lots of pink bubblegum mingling with blueberry. On my skin, especially when wet, it's similar. The way the bubblegum combines with the blueberry reminds me of the lotus and blueberry in Jinbari from last year's Lupers. That was my favorite lotus -- it smelled very pink, and a little fruity and bubblegummy, but not strongly bubblegum. This reminds me of that, but with more gumminess. I just also get a fruity-floral tone to it, which I associate with pink lotus. I get a little sweet vanilla, barely, but the pink bubblegum + blueberry is really up front and center. Like Jinbari, this blend is very potent on me at first. But Blue Unicorn is mostly gone from my skin in under an hour. I can still find it, but it's faint. (However, if I apply it again, the second dose lingers much longer.) This is super fun and playful.

Buttery almond fortune cookies with an incense close to that in Midnight on the Midway. This is the scent of roadside-stand fortunes told... about futures that involve almonds.

At first, this offers mostly a burst of lemony citrus, stronger than the hints from some hay notes. But soon the citrus fades and there emerges a soft, hay-flecked linen. Later, some patchouli and woods ground the linen somewhat, but even so, it grows powdery on my skin. I've enjoyed this decant, but I happen to have a Traditional Sheet Ghost bottle for lemony linens.

Complex, multi-layered boot-leather blast from the second of application. This is the soul (and sole) of a boot.

Sweet toasted sandalwood. If sandalwood could behave as a marshmallow does when toasted over a fire, it would smell like this. Oak and tobacco blend in well with this first impression --- interesting how I notice oak more in the front of the inhale, and tobacco on the back end --- and there's a soft, complex woodiness even behind all these leaves and wood. Yet there is nothing wild or forested about this blend; it's entirely cultivated, sophisticated, and intentional. Well-crafted.

Powdery violet and iris against a marshy-green swamp, its background cypress boughs draped in moss. This blend smells like images that have come up when I've searched for swamp cypress roots, with the addition of chalky, blue-purple flowers. In dry-down, I also find a pine dry enough that it smells ready to immerse in flames at the slightest spark. Overall, this blend is like a swamp in an off season, a driest season of the year, when the water is lowest and exposes the pale bones of the roots and any vulnerabilities.

Sour rice milk with sort of an odd little cheek-pinch of bergamot on a backdrop of grainy sandalwood and palo santo. Sourness isn't a usual milk effect on my skin, but there it is. It's working strangely with the citrus of bergamot and the slight lemony note common to palo santo. The creaminess grows as this matures on my skin, and loses some sourness... but overall, this one is an oddball on my skin, and not in a way that draws me.

Dark and red fruitiness against a sultry backdrop of sugar and red musk. The fruits bring to mind red and black currants, raspberries, and blackberries. The predominant color of the blend is red, and a lot of it against the red musk... but there is some lush fruit-juicy darkness to be had here, as well. To my delight, the sugar stands out. Ung, sugar. This is a strong blend, which I'm enjoying in its early phase... but I'm also kind of waiting for the red musk to turn to stinky midday Pennsic tent sweat on my skin (if you know, you know). But these sugared fruits make me happy.

I remember that when a friend and I first sampled this, it was unexpected for the listed notes... but nothing else about it. It has rested longer now and flies closer to what one might guess. It goes on my skin downy-quiet at first, a barely there scent that sometimes happens when a blend has lots of notes and mostly of the middle and base variety. Freshly applied, I just catch a breath-soft smoky patch and that's about it. The smoky patchouli grows and develops a little vanilla as this dries and matures, but it never becomes potent. There are hints of myrrh and dust. Surprisingly, though, I never find a trace of spice or black musk. I'm not sure if further aging will bring them out, and may never know, as this decant will probably go back to my friend tonight.

Soft, brown, fuzzy-powdery, and a bit feather-down fluffy. Tonka is most prominent for me, smelling pale and a little vanillic and cloud-like, but the other notes lean brown and grounding. Sandalwood and oak suggest their woods, but I don't notice vetiver adding its own. Beeswax comes into its own later on. The almond is present throughout, but mild on my skin. The Little Owl is a quiet scent, suitable anywhere, though a little too powdery for me.

Tea, amber, dried leaves, and maple. This blend is a moment of watching outer seasons change and reflect shifts in the inner world. Really lovely. Autumn Sun I reminds me of October 32, with their shared autumnal vibes of dried leaves, amber, and tea. Autumn Sun lacks October 32's prominent wool, but it does give off just a breath of its vanilla, possibly from the amber. They are both Autumn as a Mood --- a few quiet moments taken for oneself, gazing across a sun-stained field of dying grasses and dead, blowing leaves, anticipating the coming withdrawal of the land's life into winter.

Here is one for licorice lovers! Freshly applied, Portrait is sweet black licorice candy on my arm --- brash and unapologetic. The sweet black licorice brings Black Licorice Smut to mind, a blend I still wear on some fall and winter nights. Touches of soft taffy waft in and out, adding to the candy vibe. The twin darknesses of patch and oud add some wooden stability to the mad licorice whimsy. This is primarily sweet and candied, so dark it blackens my tongue to smell it. I don't think I need bottles of both it and Black Licorice Smut, but I'll enjoy this decant.

Die Pest begins with a soft, dusty, black-peppery cedar and patchouli on my skin. It's an opening that leaves me curious how it will develop --- until it's obscured by a soft cloud of cologne. I didn't anticipate cologne from the published notes list. Not my thing, and I do wish I'd known.

A smooth, chewy patchouli sweetened and made nommy with vanilla marshmallow and a bit of caramelized sugar. Light hint of pepper fading in and out, nothing intrusive. This is in the sweet vanilla patchouli family and I love it.

I was just writing about notes I experience as "homey" in a review of Chocolate, Cinnamon Bark, and Chipotle Honey. Here's another one for that topic... cedar and patch (and sometimes smoke) are my other main homey players, so I figured this one would be as cozy as can be. But this isn't a specific cedar note that really takes me there. This one smells a little more rough-edged and rustic to me --- more the rugged wilderness than the rugged homestead. A fuzzy, earthy patchouli dirties it up a bit and leaves me with an earthy, woodsy camping impression. The patch and Himalayan cedar are the stronger notes on my skin. I've had a few wearings of this where I can smell the smoke and caramel, but this morning they're not showing up for me. They guest at this camp but aren't always around. This blend differs from my hope for it, but I like it regardless.

CCBandCH could be a delight for lovers of all its notes; each of them is present and accounted for. Out of the gate, I'd say the cinnamon bark (which is quite barky) may be the most potent on my skin. There's also plenty of honeyed cocoa to sip here, however. The trio is cozy and evocative. Cinnamon bark is one of the notes that can feel very homey to me, and this blend is bringing the hominess, well, home. After a moment, the chipotle comes into its own. I very much loved the especially-limited-run Temptation of St. Nick, with its chili-peppered and spiced cacao --- my perfume boxes have been missing something vital since I ran out of it and had no other blend with Central or South American peppers. I'm thrilled to have this one and have been wearing it often.

Freshly applied, the chestnut and candied fig stand out --- especially the latter --- with a rust-colored tone overlying everything. Pecan soon joins in, even somewhat taking over the pasture where chestnut was playing. The musk here is present, but never heavy on my skin. This stays mainly about the russet candied fig and nuts, especially the pecan. Warm and attractive blend for the art.