Lucchesa

I really wanted to love this, but my skin is amping the oudh to the point where I cannot smell anything else. No incense, no bourbon vanilla, no myrrh. I gave it a second test last night after letting it rest a couple weeks, and the result is unchanged. Good throw and wear length, as is always true when I'm amping something I don't want to, but I just don't think I can wear this one. Damn you, skin chemistry!

In the imp and wet, Athens is a honey-forward scent, with myrrh in the background and just a hint of red wine which is all the red wine I can usually take in a blend. As it dries, the myrrh becomes more assertive, and after an hour or so they switch places, so it becomes primarily a myrrh scent with honey backing it up. Resiny, drily sweet but not sickly in the least, not floral or alcoholic on me. I quite like this!

ETA I spilled most of that first imp, and a second imp I was frimped, which seems a bit darker in color, is much more about the red wine on my skin, and I like it less.

London is all venerable tea rose on me, and I'm beginning to understand that tea rose is the rose note that doesn't work on my skin. "Venerable" translates to old lady, apparently. I think I smell some myrrh -- could that be the black twisted part? At any rate, this one is not me. If you like tea rose, give it a whirl!

2017 Dorian, kindly decanted me in a swap (thanks, Cinnabar!!!):

A musky cloud of

sweet vanilla tea, all day.

Do believe the hype.

This may be my favorite GC leather scent (and maybe I should buy a bottle before the price goes up!). Wet it is a little cologney. I like a lot of unisex scents, but some (Vicomte de Valmont, Villain) strike me as "too cologney," which may just mean they smell too much like Brut or whatever my dad wore in the 70s. So, Black Rider starts out like it might go in that direction, but it dries down into this dark, chewy, resinous deliciousness. It made me feel badass. Like that cartoon, Rose Is Rose, where her alter ego wears biker's leathers? Like that.

Hi, Francesca! In my case, getting oil on my fingers is something I just shrug off. It doesn't inevitably happen, but sometimes it does. And some of the imp caps are so tight that I apply so much force getting them off that tiny droplets spray everywhere -- I've even gotten oil in my eyes. But it's a small price to pay for the magic that is BPAL. Some of the forumites who've been around longer than I have may have suggestions though.

As far as blending -- they're your oils. You can do whatever you want with them! There's a whole thread on layering BPAL, which is basically the same thing except you're not mixing them in the bottle, just on your skin. One member recently posted about her experiments in making her own Lab Rat blends (Lab Rat was an LE with the scent description "All the things!"), combining various imps into bottles. http://www.bpal.org/topic/91523-inspired-by-lab-rat/ Not heresy at all. Enjoy!

Krampus Lace was generously frimped me -- thank you, PersimmonSeeds!!! -- and is fantastic. Red musk, though I love its sexy soul, usually just stomps all over everything else on my skin, turning many a lovely complex blend into SN Red Musk. But SUGARED red musk -- this stuff is amazing! It's definitely prominent, that smutty red musk goodness, but it's actually sharing space with a gorgeous aged-O-like vanilla honey and soft leather and tobacco. Not sure I'm getting any cognac, and I never perceive the pink pepper note, but to get this many notes together with red musk on me is a miracle.

I get a little throw (which for me is a lot of throw) just in the first hour. After that it settles into a snuggly skin scent that would be perfectly appropriate for most social situations. So if this weren't such a rarity, I could imagine wearing it constantly -- slathering when you want to channel a demon goddess of eroticism, applying lightly for a day at the office.

Lab, if you're listening: Bravo!!!! And more sugared red musk, please!!!

This is a bright, citrusy blend, higher pitched than I expected. Tart orange and geranium are the main notes on me; I can't really make out the patchouli at all, and the amber is playing backup. Playful and cheerful. Sadly, it doesn't last long on my middle-aged skin.

Champaca is usually a rule-out for me, but I was frimped a tester of this, and it's glorious! Dark and plummy and rich, a little sweet, a little smoky. I doubt I'll ever find a bottle, but I'm thrilled to have gotten to try it.

In the imp, orange peel and carnation. Two of my faves, so yum. As it dries down, I do sense the honey but not the ginger, or maybe I'm confusing the ginger with the spiciness of the carnation. Eventually the orange note fades and it becomes almost SN red carnation -- I should try it next to my SN Spanish red carnation to be sure. It's really nice and these are notes I like, but given how many carnation blends I have, I'm not sure I need more than the imp.

I haven't tried any of the other sufganiyots, and I was a bit concerned about the pastry note, because "cake" as in Eat Me can be a disaster on my skin. In the imp, I get only fruit, an intense berry that almost reminds me of purple Laffy Taffy. It is less artificial on my skin, though, a lovely dark sweet but slightly tart fruit, and then the fried dough emerges to surround it and nom nom nom. A fruity foodie that's not ridiculously sweet.

This made me think of Frostbitten Dorian as well. In the imp it is woody vanilla tea, and it stays fairly true to this once it hits my skin. It's perfectly unisex, and I would be buying a bottle right now except that something in here goes a tiny bit soapy on me about 30 minutes in. Maybe it's the note that spells furniture polish? It's still a gorgeous blend, and I will let it age a bit and retry it to see if that skin chemistry thing persists or not.

So, red musk and I have a problematic relationship. Whenever we're out with friends, like honey or poppy, for instance, red musk is really disrespectful towards them, shouting them down. But red musk's cousin blood musk is a total joy and could teach red musk a thing or two about relationships. In Sanguinem Menstruum, blood musk lets honey speak first, and then the two of them converse for a while until poppy shows up and is allowed to have her say as well. And the conversation is pretty hot, and it goes on a long time.

My husband thought this was "a little chemical-y." So I won't wear it for him. I'll anoint myself with it when I want to feel as powerful as an ancient goddess whose adherents leave offerings of honey and darker things. I'll slather it on days I want to do something apeshit and have it not be my fault because, you know, her cycle. I don't have that excuse biologically anymore, so I'll wear it when I want to channel into that primordial female gloriousness. Maybe I won't wear it a lot, but it ought to be memorable when I do.

2017 version. Pom notes can be overly sweet on me, but this is perfect. Sweet and tart, bright and deep, and it stays true for a long time. No throw, but I rarely get throw from anything. Pomegranate is inherently a richer, darker fruit than, say, apple or peach, and this is a beautiful incarnation of it.

Of all the Yules, this may have been the decant I was most excited about. I wish I could report that it works on me, but tragically, it doesn't. About a quarter of the time, tobacco notes are too sharp on my skin, and this is one of those times. (I'm thinking the "fire-red" part should have given me pause.) So for the first hour or two, it was all sharp tobacco. And of course it has wicked throw!

Eventually it settled down enough for the soft leather and the cedar and musk to make themselves felt. The fig was neither heavy nor sweet, and I never really got any cardamom, which is my favorite note. Although the drydown is quite nice, the sharp tobacco opening makes me glad I didn't blind bottle this one.

ETA totally unisex, and I do think this is going to be magnificent on a lot of people!

Wine can go either way on me, and wet, it went toward grape. So first impression was lots of sweet, grapey wine, and as it dried, the plum and oudh came out and the grape went away, which is fine with me. The oudh is rich and sweet, not the stinky kind at all, and a lovely backdrop for the dark fruit.

A couple of hours later, the wine is still gone, and I thought I caught a whiff of - red musk? Could that be part of the Lab's velvet note? If so, it is very, very subtle, since I usually amp red musk to high heaven. Overall impression: deep, sexy, grownup plum.

I chose this decant for the name, as my younger son is William. Or was -- the name is more poignant now to me since my sweet William is choosing to be Lynn. Tuberose is usually an automatic rule-out for me, but it was not very prominent here. I got mainly soft orris and white lilies at first, but as it started drying down it got actually quite beautiful. The cognac and the honey made it more interesting to me than a pure white floral, and the patchouli helped ground a very ethereal blend. And I was thinking wow, I could wear this one.

Then, like practically every other BPAL with the word Ghost or Phantasm or (insert synonym here) in the title, it faded into nothingness about an hour later. Sigh.

Wet, this was all oudh. Not incense-blackened oudh, which sounds fantastic, but the plain old stinky kind. I like oudh, most of the time it settles down on my skin and gives good throw, but this was at the edge of my tolerance. Where was the bourbon vanilla? Where was the patchouli from last decade? Single note stinky oudh.

I did not give up. I let it go for the next few hours, and the oudh continued to dominate. I eventually could perceive the patch and the other notes, but what I was hoping for was that almost caramelized chewy patchouli and sexy dark incense and boozy sweet bourbon vanilla, and no. It was a dry patch and the other notes whispered, at best. Entertaining the Heian Court Maiden works much better on me.

Wet, Pleasant Embrace is all juicy crisp pear; the lemony musk emerges in drydown and keeps this blend from being too sweet. I agree it is quite similar to Endymion, with lemon instead of lilies. While Under the Mosquito Netting went all Lemon Pledge on me, this did not -- it is a light dry lemon merged with what isn't exactly white musk, or at least not quite as high pitched and screechy as white musk can be on me, but something silvery and bright. Sadly, like many Shungas, it doesn't last as long on me as I would like. But it's lovely while it lasts!

I wanted to try this because A. I love bergamot and B. I love the name. It makes me think of Romaine Brooks's portrait Peter, A Young English Girl. I managed to snag a quarter decant in a swap, and of course I love it. On me it was not too cologney. Unisex, yes; strongly masculine, no. The bergamot is fairly subdued -- it doesn't shout "Earl Grey Tea!" at you -- and the patchouli is rich and smooth. The orris I think serves to soften everything, maybe taking away that cologney edge, and frankly I seem to be anosmic to the Lab's pink pepper note. But the whole thing is quite elegant and upper crust but with a softness, like a young woman in white tie and tails. I like.

This is a rich, full-bodied honey, and wet on my skin it's HONEY-honey-honey-cassia. As it dries down the cassia becomes more of an equal partner, so it's HONEY-honey-CASSIA for quite a while, as this has unusually good throw on me, and eventually it mellows down to honey-cassia. But the cassia is more subdued than the cinnamon in Chimera (which I also love). It does not burn my skin the way Inferno does, and it does not recall cinnamon chewing gum or any kind of artificial cinnamon scent. Instead, the cassia contributes a lovely, dry, spicy warmth to the deep, rich honey. I find I often prefer a scent with two or three ingredients to one with twelve or thirteen, and I'm so pleased to have a bottle of this.

Wulric was not a big leap of faith for me -- I love the Lab's blends that combine cocoa with woody notes, like Velvet or Gelt-Smeared Dreidel. Add vanilla, bourbon vetiver and cardamom, and I'm all in. And the Wolfman does not disappoint. Lavender never lasts on my skin, so it's only present for me in the opening. I was a bit worried about the birch tar, as the poplar tar in Oil and Pitch took over on me, but it is not at all harsh, nor is the vetiver; it all settles down fairly quickly into a lovely woody musky cocoa scent. I'm not sure I'm getting much cardamom, but that's all right, it is fine without it (though, in general, more cardamom is always better). This is cozy and keeping its mean streak well hidden. No throw, average wear length on me.

Ulalume is kind of an oddball. I love lilies and hate aquatics, so I wasn't sure which way this would fall. Wet, it is strong -- white lilies, forest and something minty. I knew there was no mint in the notes, so it's gratifying that other reviewers have identified a minty sensation as well; it might also be what they mean when they say it is wintry or snow-like. An hour in, the lilies have faded to the background, behind the cypress and oak and whatever is the minty note. Not my usual sort of scent, but it's very interesting and I'm pleased I had the chance to try it.

Spooky Action at a Distance is all rose on me at first. The sandalwood and frankincense remain in the background for me; this is predominantly a rose blend at first, and then a predominantly rose geranium blend on drydown. This is dry and not sweet on me; the elemi may be contributing to the peppery feel of the geranium. I never get violet. The drydown is very pretty; the woods begin to share space with the rose and rose geranium. Nice, but I don't need more than my decant.

Wet on my wrist the Goddess of Mischief is a strong, realistic lavender. I love lavender but my skin tends to eat it right up, and that happens here as well. I was not sure what to expect of green oudh, and I'm not sure I can really distinguish that note. So once the lavender evaporates, after about an hour, I'm left with amber and musk, and if that's what I want I can just wear Haunted. I may try this in a scent locket to see if I can experience all the notes together.