LadyCrow

This would have pleased the vain streak in my grandmother, whose name was Iris. In the imp: Perfumey as all heck. There's got to be benzoin involved in this someplace. Wet: Iris and VIOLET! I'm reminded of that passage from The Color Purple where Celie explains that creation makes things like purple flowers because it wants to be loved. Drydown: It takes the VIOLET! ages to fade away, but as this warms, I get the musk, which is always good for helping florals hang around longer; the pungent Kashmir wood; and the really assertive black amber. My skin is notorious for eating citrus alive, and this is no exception -- sadly, I'm really getting little or none of the mandarin. This does start to go powdery toward the later part of its wear -- not surprising, with iris, musk, and amber in it. Verdict: Beautiful blend with a distinct retro feel; the individual notes, as with all the Salons I've tried, are very well blended, so that it takes some effort to pull them apart. There's almost a sugared-violet component in all of this -- Faith with friends? Classy, full of hauteur.

Okay, now I understand where W.C. Fields was coming from when he threatened to whittle Charlie McCarthy into Venetian blinds. In the imp: Foody and woody. This is where I had all the high hopes. Wet: Intense caramel, some woods, and what ho? Black pepper! Drydown: For the next several hours, I had the most bizarre and unpleasant combination of apricot-caramel close to my skin and a really, really strong throw of black pepper. Now, the sheer purity of this note is nothing to sneeze at (sorry, sorry), but it totally wasn't what I wanted to amplify; if anything, I was hoping my skin would fall in love with the cedarwood, as usual, and the patchouli. Major points for strength and staying power. It's just that what happens to this on me is not anything I want to smell like.

I'm not sure which version I have; what I've got is a testable sniffie that was decanted and hand-labeled. I suspect, from reading reviews, that it may be the most recent. On the other hand, I almost don't care which version of it I have; I just want more. In the imp: Foody, musky, thick. Wet: Oh, no, please don't be turning into just plain cologne! Drydown: Once the perfumey thing goes away (which may be what everybody else reads as "boozy"), it's musk and slightly spicy and a bit fiery, even and vanilla/tonka sweet like Snake Oil and ROWR. (No, crows don't ordinarily go "rowr," but we're excellent mimics.) A small bit on the inside of one elbow throws hard and lasts ages. I even get a smoky waft from time to time. Verdict: I've seen Fenris Wolf described as "an instant pants-remover," and I would tend to put Smut in that category myself. If you tried and didn't enjoy Smut, please send yours to me for carefully controlled scientific testing.

In the imp: Almost pure cassia. Wet: Almost pure cassia, with a hint of tonka. Drydown: Oh, yeah, and there might be a little red musk in here, too. I do get a "blood" note like the one in The Bloody Sword and The Cracked Bell, but it's minor compared to all the Cinnamon Red-Hots action. After about 300 years, this strongly, strongly resembles one of the Snakes, with a bit of the smoky whiff I get from Bloodlust or even Blood Amber. I may swap this, or I may let it age -- but f'realz, if I wanted to smell like cinnamon potpourri, I would not be seeking a BPAL. Me and my weird skin chemistry!

In the imp: Resins, very sweet. Vetiver? Wet: Peppery leather with an underlying deep sweetness from the patchouli and florals, kind of like Dragon's Hide with much more spiciness -- so much I can taste the spice just from sniffing my hand. Drydown: Oh, there are those flowers again, and I like them! The pittosporum definitely seems stronger on me than the champaca. (Seriously? Beth? There needs to be a BPAL Spelling Bee.) Then, it's the resins again, still very heady and sweet -- this is kind of like one of the "ritual incense" blends met one of the "sex" blends, to their mutual delight. The oakmoss is in there, but it's down deep; the vetiver is sharp around the edges of the throw. I find it hard to pull out ginger specifically, but then I think my skin eats it. I'm not familiar with ambergris, so I'm clueless about what that might be doing here. Sweeter than I thought it might be from the listed notes. I never pulled out the black musk specifically, but the complexity and strength of the blend did remind me of Minotaur.

In the imp: Peppery and almost citric. No idea where I'm getting that! Wet: What the heck is this? A really odd combination of the peppery and... what? This smells really strange with my chemistry for the first few minutes it's on. I was almost afraid that the Rose Note That Doesn't Love Me was in this someplace. Drydown: Ah, now this is more like it. I admit I was hoping for a lighter, GC version of Mi-Go Brain Canister, but what happens instead is a creamy amber base with the passionflower and pink pepper floating above it -- enjoyable in its own right. I don't personally get the honeysuckle, although maybe it spent itself fighting whatever was going on in the wet stage. I'm not feeling an urgent need for a bottle right this second, but as one of what seems to be a growing (or not!) legion of short, dark, fierce women, I'm really pleased that Hermia has her own scent.

In the imp: Heavy on the tonka. Wet: I'm getting the lime and lilac, too, but my first impression wet is that this is almost weirdly foody. Drydown: Only minimal to moderate throw on me, but now all the notes are finally beginning to combine charmingly instead of just sort of jumble around. The tonka has receded a bit, and now I get the sharper benzoin; it does go a bit cologne-y here, but I finally get a bit of blackberry leaf close to my skin and violet further away in the throw. Okay, now I'm starting to understand how somebody could find this guy handsome. Or is that just the spell? Verdict: Nice and light, very seasonally appropriate in that way. The lilac is more subtle, at least for me, than it is in His Station and Four Aces -- but then, like Robin Goodfellow, it's well-blended enough that one has difficulty picking out a single top note (after that initial few minutes of Monster-Bait-ish buttery tonka). The play aside, the scent picture that comes back to me isn't necessarily gendered.

In the imp: Sharp, green herbs. Wet: Foresty, but forest undergrowth, still with the herbs. I want to say something sage about this, but I can't think what. Drydown: Initially, it's just deep, deep green, sweet forest, and I've got my nose firmly clamped into the crook of my elbow. oakmoss mentioned a stony note, and I agree that it's here -- indeed, the stone/moss combo reminds me inexorably of Shanghai Tunnel, and if you can't get your hands on the Convergence goodies, this might be a nice GC to try instead. Finally, what's left is sweet musk, still with a bit of the heather and moss -- almost reminiscent of the "And if we spirits have offended" speech at the end of the play. Verdict: A Goodfellow indeed! A morpher, but not necessarily one with a puckish sense of humor. Drat, I've fallen in love with another trickster scent! Fairy well done, Lab.

In the imp: Florals and pepper. Wet: Sharp, crisp woods. My skin loves woods, and it's bringing those to the forefront right now -- subtly, and without the huge throw of some other woodsy scents, but they're definitely the top when this is freshly applied. Drydown: Aha, the pepper and musk! I was kind of expecting this to remind me of some Lunacies from the listed notes, but the pepper is quite subtle, and the musk seems mostly to be amplifying the other notes for about the first hour; the sweet tang of mandarin lurks around the edges of the woods. Then, there's a very lovely morph into mostly a sweet white musk. Nothing I need a bottle of immediately, but both stages of this are very likable. I don't care how weird her grandchildren are; I'm quite fond of this old lady! Subtlety is a hallmark here -- the scent is calmer than, say, Caterpillar, but still strong.

In the imp: Resin, resin, resin, dark and bitter. Wet: The notes separate into frankincense and vetiver. That patchouli -- he's in back of all this, I'm certain of it -- the same sweet, creeping patchouli as in Caterpillar, maybe? Drydown: Ah, the fig, made tangy by the tamarind. The lavender and cypress, I think, are where the often-mentioned Vicks Vapo-Rub edge comes from. (Candy and Vicks... is there a rave nearby and I missed the memo?) The combination of the flowers, fruits, and incenses, once the Vicks goes away, reminds me in a pleasant way of dragon's-blood blends, down to the slightly smoky tang -- here, I'm guessing it's from the frankincense rubbing on the vetiver. I think I'll be holding on to my imp of this, oh yes.

Do not do this. I am an idiot. The following is the record of what you should not do, OK? 1. I got a freebie of this in a swap. 2. I consigned it to my swap-away pile and forgot about it. 3. Having forgotten why I put it on the swaps pile, I decided I would give it a second chance, and put it back on the pile of imps to test. I love the frickin' poem! Okay? I've it memorized since I was fourteen! 4. I applied some to the crook of my elbow without reading the notes. 5. I thought, Whoa, Vicks Vapo-Rub! So I came to the review thread and started reading. 6. I quickly realized that it has pine in it. PINE! I am horribly allergic to pine! THAT is why I'd put it on the swaps pile in the first place! 7. About this time, I realized that my eyes and the affected skin were burning. 8. I wiped down my whole inner arm with an alcohol wipe and took an antihistamine tablet. 9. I put Jabberwocky back on the swaps pile. I guess I forgot my vorpal sword today. Moral of the story: The Lab uses REAL INGREDIENTS. There was nothing fake about that pine. If you're allergic to an ingredient and you think, "Oh, hell, I'll try (for example) Storyville even though I'm allergic to (for example) tobacco, because it's so sought-after and everybody says it's so great," DO NOT. Promise Lady Crow, all right?

In imp: Floral, but bitter -- sharp and bitter. Hello, vetiver! Wet: Deep and mossy. I don't get jasmine so much as the carnation almost immediately as a top note. Drydown: Dark and indolent indeed. I get the bergamot and neroli, but behind them there's always this fat, lazy patchouli rolling around in some nag champa on top of some oakmoss. It dries down very, very sweet. This is... this is groovy. If anybody asks where I am, tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given me the call. Go ask Alice when she was just small.

In the imp: Holy crow! This smells like... dragon's blood! Wet: Holy crow! On my skin, this smells like... dragon's blood! Sweet and wet at this stage. Drydown: But very shortly, the resin recedes greatly and I get the dry, dry sandalwood, and then a rising of the powdery orris. Quite evocative of the scent concept, and quite yummy.

Ah, Xiuhtecuhtli: the official scent of former Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee contenders. In the imp: Floral. Wet: Hmm, smoky floral. I could get to like this. Drydown: Ah, here come the copal and orange blossom -- and that's pretty much what I get for the rest of the wear time. That's nice and all, but I wish the smoky note had hung around longer. Throw is minimal on me; this is something I might wear when I felt I desperately needed to wear some scent, but needed to be sensitive to others who might be bothered. My perception of this is sunny-incensey, like an extremely mild version of something like Ahathoor. Maybe in a locket, it wouldn't be so shy?

In the imp: Cherry, cardamom, verbena. Wet: Cassia! The clean-ness of the verbena, while at the same time the patchouli makes everything very deep. Drydown: The patchouli almost begins to swallow the cherry, but in fact amps it through the other notes. The cassia is the top layer, giving that familiar light burn on my skin and contributing a cinnamon-like note to the considerable throw. This is one to be used with caution and care. I can't really call this foody because of the resin and unfoody spices -- in fact, it's got a near-incense quality to it. Not a bottle I need to dive into, but an interesting and complex scent.

Like a number of reviewers before me, I get the salty part only in the drydown; what happens at first is sweet, sweet dragon's blood and floral, mainly lilies. Mind you, this is not a problem for me, as I've loved every Ars Draconis I've tried (save Tanin'iver, which I merely like) -- and this is no exception. Maybe this would be good as one of those bath thingies? In any case, I like.

In imp: Deep black musk, almost boozy. Wet: Enter vetiver, stage left. Man, Iago, you are one seriously bitter guy. Drydown: The leather actually sweetens this and thickens it, making it a dark, nearly foresty, herbal-animal musk. I feel like Iago now: that is, I desperately want to get some Moor. Unfortunately, I have a suspicion that the leather note also cuts into the wear time, as it does in Dragon's Hide. Even so, I'm willing to slather, for Iago... and there are other ways to wear a scent. I seem to recall that Iago knew what to do with a handkerchief.

I'm thankful that fate managed to steer a decant of this my way, and that I wasn't cowed by the reviews mentioning how strong it was. Now, it's time to take the bull by the horns and type up the notes from my dairy into a semi-coherent review of my own. In imp: Perfumey galbanum, almost men's-cologne territory. Wet: Strong, sharp benzoin -- acrid, really. Drydown: This quickly separates into two layers: the musk next to my skin, which really beefs up the resinous throw. This really is the strongest, longest-lasting incense/resin scent I've heifer tried. What is at steak here is the ability of the blend to represent its concept, which I think is done brilliantly. When a previous reviewer said it smelled ritual but not churchly, she got it ox-actly right. I'm so glad I herd about this blend. It's forever branded on my scent memory.

Allow me to respectfully disagree about the "marijuana" comparison. Beth is a master perfumer, and could, if she chose, exactly replicate the scents of different strains: Rappaccini's Garden could bloom with Hindu Kush, Afghani Blueberry, Trainwreck, Mothership, Purple Haze, et alia, if Doc Constantine suddenly felt like ministering to some California medical patients. Catnip still does not smell like marijuana; neither does 13. In imp: Cocoa. Wet: Cocoa and orange -- not foody orange, but like a clove-orange pomander. Spicy. Drydown: The pleasant cocoa-orange stage is unfortunately rather short on me, and then recedes; the fig and florals come out a bit, but what my skin really amps is the sandalwood. This clashes with the catnip briefly, giving a short cedar-shavings moment, and then it's so sweet, in combo with the fruit and florals, as to smell, and stay, like amber for most of the wear time. I mean, it's a beautiful smell. Beautiful. It just confuses my poor nose, because I didn't think there was a drop of amber in here, but that's what I get. Verdict: Fun, but I'll stick with 10/06.

In imp: Drunken cocoa. Wet: COCOA! I need to give those 400 drunken rabbits their cocoa NOW or they'll spray Enraged... oh, never mind. Drydown: The very dry, yet vivid and insistent cocoa is underlain by bloody wine. The rum becomes more of a backdrop over time, and the interplay of the three notes is fascinating. The cocoa sweetens the wine, or is it vice versa? And deep beneath it is a metallic tang that gives the blend gravitas and keeps it from going 100% boozy/foody. Conundrum: Is this groovier, or is Tezcatlipoca groovier? This is less fiery and more elegant.

The big surprise for me in this version of Thirteen was the bloom of rooibos that comes out on me after the chocolate and orange notes have dried down to sandalwood. It's this nice sandalwood with all of the various notes blended so skillfully I have great difficulty pulling them apart, and then WHOOM, rooibos. I can't quite tell the difference between Jamaican and South African, but that's the real thing. By that time, the sandalwood and a vanilla-sort-of-floral layer are backing it, so it hovers beautifully above those notes and is almost visibly red. I never stop being amazed by the Lab: since rooibos is both a flower and a tea, you don't know whether to inhale it delicately or want to eat it, sort of the way you have that feeling sometimes with pikaki/jasmine sambac. Yum-azing blend.

Oh, finally, finally, a Monster Bait that really and truly works for me! I'm in heaven! Like many others, I get a blast of cherry right at the beginning, and then the fruitiness mellows a bit as the creaminess and powdered sugar takes over. Then it stays like that, with amazing throw, throughout the wear time of the scent. Note to self: Find mirror. Keep repeating "Bloody Mary" for as long as it takes for a bottle of this to appear.

I'm not at any strange point in my cycle, so I can only report myself as the owner of one of the most bizarre skin chemistries in the history of BPAL fandom, I guess. What I get from Vice is apparently a combination of the cherry and orange notes to produce grape lollipop. It goes on grape lollipop and resolutely stays grape lollipop throughout the lifetime of the scent, with only the very tiniest hint of chocolate in the background if I sniff very closely. It's like the more staid cousin of Jailbait, on me, and I feel fairly certain Vice isn't meant to be staid!

In imp: I'll be damned. Cotton candy. Wet: Ew! Burned plastic and cotton candy! Fortunately, the burned-plastic bit only lasts a few minutes. However, within the drydown, such a rush and jumble of complicated foody scents fight for attention -- funnel cake, something deeply salty (indeed, something I'd call aquatic in other blends), indeed the scent of grease frying -- that I actually get a headache from this. I'm certain it's a matter of skin chemistry rather than anything "wrong" with the oil blend per se, so off it goes to someone I know will love it.

In the imp: Blackberry booze and cake. Sounds like a fun night to me! Wet: Sharp, tangy blackb... black... black cat pee. I applied this in a very small spot to one of the pulses on the back of one hand, having read the reviews that basically indicated that this could either be wonderful or go ghastly. Unfortunately, I am in the latter minority. Did I just change the friggin' litterbox or what? Somewhere, Bastet is laughing... but unlike the TAL of that name, she's not laughing with me, she's laughing at me. Off to wash my hands now. Vigorously.