LadyCrow

In the imp: Sharp. On skin: Very much woody rose and violets at first; close to the skin, with not a great deal of sillage. I only get the soft, fuzzy wool effect much later in the drydown. When I do get there, maybe an hour in, everything is well balanced and it's very nice. It's genteel, cultured, mature -- sort of what people would expect an English professor to smell like, as opposed to the Bloodlust I actually wore when I compiled final grades this year. But by the time I get there, I've endured an hour of smelling like very traditional cologne, and it's unsettling; it feels like playing dress-up. It's just not really me. At least I've discovered that my skin amps the Lab's violet note, so theoretically one dab of Faith on me should turn the universe purple for miles around. It's just frustrating; Kelly Pool was one of only two Dogs that didn't have tobacco in it -- I'm allergic -- and it's like not getting any cake at the birthday party when it's apparently so magic on others!

In imp: Scarlett just threw her julep in my face. Wet: ... and to recover from the mortification, I'm just going to chug mine, and I don't care that the mint stalk is going right up my sweet little nose. Drydown: Once the very, very realistic alcoholic-drink aura burns off, there's a stage of consistent, full sweetness, and then a stage of ambery powder, as if I had washed my face, changed my dress, and reached for the talc. Some people are bummed by this metamorphosis, but on the other side of the coin, it makes it possible to wear a bit of this scent to work if you like without being mistaken for someone severely in need of counseling. The bourbon is sweet and clear; the booziness is much less heavy and aggressive than that in Baron Samedi, for example. It's a nice scent that makes its point and then doesn't hang around too heavily -- the first stage really was almost literally intoxicating, and you also don't want to be pulled over slathered with eau de mint julep and then have to explain your perfume!

Straight out of the vial, Dove's Heart just smelled relaxing, uplifting, comforting, to a degree I wasn't expecting even given that the top note is lavender. I get lilac also, which to me is a really happy association, and violet -- but it was almost weird, how very relaxed I felt wearing this. I was even able to listen to some fairly emotionally heavy (not "emo"!) music wearing this, and not feel gut-wrenched, more so a detached but empathetic compassion for the singer. This is just made of happy and yum, and I really think there's a bottle in my future.

Jasmine sambac, dark musk, violet water, vanilla bean and mimosa. I had to look up "sambac," because it confused me: I thought vaguely that "sambac" was a type of deer. (It isn't. That's sambar. Ah, Scrabble.) It's good to know that other perfumers call the same jasmine "pikaki," and that it's the jasmine used to flavor tea; that helps explain how it can be so strong in Melisande without being sickly. Wet: Jasmine! Jasmine! Jasmine! Ooh, and there's some violet. Drydown: Here comes the violet, sweetened by the vanilla and made powdery by what I can only assume is the musk. Unusual throw -- normally, flowers run and hide the minute they meet my skin. It gives me Faith. (No, seriously. Now I want to try Faith, the Siamese Twin.) Maybe that's what the musk is for here, because I don't smell it much: amping the flowers. I like this a lot more than I do most florals (e.g. Queen Mab), but for me, there's not a lot of competition in this scent category. Melisande is strong and bold enough that I would have to want to smell like Jasmine! and Violets! very strongly, and I'm not sure I want that enough. After a little while, it's like sitting under a flower bush, and it gets a bit overwhelming. Ultimately, for me personally, this is in the category of very nice scents I just wouldn't wear that often.

Oh, my. After the initial blast of FRUIT! -- not fakey fruit, but real fruit, fuzzy and hanging in the sun -- the musk comes forward, making everything very earthy and curiously (to me) sexy. Maybe an untended, natural grove just doing its thing. I love how the peach note is managed in this blend, and kept from taking over, but still allowed to strut its stuff with Sister Apricot alongside. This goes slightly powdery for me in the drydown, and would probably take reapplication, but this is a lovely way to get your peach scent on without smelling like a Fuzzy Navel. Nice to have around for summer, too, both because of the notes and because it's a light, non-obtrusive scent after the initial fruit blast.

In imp: Verbena! On skin: This romps between the verbena and the grass and sage; ginger is faint but omnipresent. It really does smell to me like bounding off into a grassy field in summer -- another scene set by playing on our reactions to smell, and done very skillfully. Had I blended this, personally, I would cut down on the verbena just a little, because it can tend to overwhelm -- but now I have to go back and seek out blends with that grass note. An imp I'll keep around through the fall and winter to remind me of summer... if it lasts that long.

When will I learn? When will I learn about me and light sandalwood-florals? Wet: Sharp, damp floral -- the jasmine and rose together, almost like honeysuckle. Drydown: Goes to powder very quickly, perhaps hurried there by the sandalwood. Then just as quickly poofs away. I dunno. It's very genteel and subtle and all that, but so are the bamboo/tea/cherry blends. Not a winner with my fair skin; the Queen is not amused.

I got this as a freebie and was ready to swap it away untested, but then I read the notes, saw huckleberry, and changed my mind. In the imp: Whoo, neroli! Wet: The neroli quickly settles down, and the currant and a juicy berry scent come to the fore. Drydown: Sweet, sweet berry. Huckleberries do taste different from blueberries, and while this is still very much a perfume about them rather than a flavoring with them (do not eat!), the neroli lends that citrusy crispness that puts the wildness in the experience. Too often, people eat berries of whatever kind that come from large farms and are huge and tasteless. There's nothing quite like berries straight off the bush with the sun still on them -- and there's sunshine in Jester.

I'm starting to think the key word about Brown Jenkins (who could have been profitably employed as a house-elf cleaning at Miskatonic U., except nobody in Lovecraft is ever profitably employed for long) is but. It's woodsy, but soft and subtle. It's full of incense in the drydown, but has a foody sweetness, but isn't nearly as heavy or dark as Al Azif. It's got the coconut going on, but it's neither a sunscreen coconut nor a ripe, fruity note like the one in Obatala. And as all of these wonderful contradictions start to pile up, you have the essence of the creature Lovecraft described: neither entirely one thing we already knew and understood, nor the other. This is one of those blends whose notes might sound odd at first description, but which just smells inexplicably, mysteriously, almost evilly good. Two almost-humanlike paws up!

At first, it smelled like nothing at all. Nothing. I was terrified that, despite the gold-orange color in the vial, this was going to vanish altogether and I'd be out the price of a LE decant. But I hung in there, and was well rewarded by a really subtle, enjoyable scent that, to me -- I get the metal and blood notes very strongly -- smells a lot like OotD: The Bloody Sword plus incense. There's a sweetness here, but it comes at a price. Intensely evocative; a great skin scent that got better as it warmed.

Amazing. I get the deep, rich, syrupy sweetness, like... very evil brown caramel oozing sluggishly through a demonic tunnel someplace. Yes, that's it. Headed for evil, evil French toast. But there's incense all around. Why are the Lovecraft demons eating breakfast in a hippie shop? Because they can, I guess -- but to leave it at that would be to unfairly dismiss what to me is a fantastic and complex scent blend. Toward the end of the drydown, I get woods. I think the sweetness lurking beneath the innocent New England town is strengthening the oomph and staying power of the Vetivert from Far Yuggoth and the resins and whatnot. I love this blend. I love it. Last night I was paying court to Madame Moriarty. Tonight I'm listening to the chittering of maple sugar from beyond the galaxy and myrrh that wants to eat my brain.

A stirring blend of dianthus, French lavender, blackberry, and white honey. A user on the first page of reviews mentioned smelling like peach, and I get that too. I'm betting it's the combination of the blackberry and honey notes. Together, they rise up into a VERY sweet peachy note, a bit artificial, that subsequently drops away and lets the lavender take over. Great throw, at least in the initial stage; I wish it lasted longer. I like this, even if the effect isn't totally what I expected, so I'll use up my half-decant. I'm going to test Yerevan to see if there's any Law of Nasal Checks and Balances by which a peach note, on me, would do the opposite thing and smell like blackberries!

This is the sinuous dragon of Asian painting and sculpture, the one who loves pondering in a cloud of smoke, more so than burninating the peasants. The poppy gets the scent nice and toasty, and the dragon's blood does a great deal to amplify the floral notes and keep them from disappearing -- many florals vanish instantly on me (fair, dry skin), but here, I still get them for a decent while before it's strictly dragon's blood and amber (a combination I don't mind at all). Very similar overall to Blood Amber and Rage.

In the imp: Amaretto. No, wait -- this is a different almond note. Is it slightly bitt -- *dies* On skin: No, no, relax. There's no cyanide in this. In fact, what it actually smells like on me, and remains like throughout the entire drydown, is... biryani -- a saffron rice dish with almonds. You would go and get a big plate of this at an Indian restaurant, and then finish with some funky milk dessert that smelled like Milk Moon '07. If Beth ever creates a mango lassi scent, the picture will be complete. Some people apparently really love this. I have the skin chemistry that turns it into dinner, and not the world's best version of biryani, either. Alas! Off to swaps with it.

In the imp: Very sharp, almost biting. I guess that's the saffron, backed by the amber. On me: More of a skin musk, with less of a throw, than others of the same type I've tried, but still lovely. It's not a knockout punch of a musk; there's something sweet behind it in the drydown, like vanilla, and it's just very subtle, smoky, and commanding yet inviting. A fine tribute to the storyteller of legend.

I had high hopes for this as a perfume, because I have hummingbird tattoos... oh well. Wet: Roses and honeysuckle. Drydown: Um, ew. Fortunately this stuck close to my skin, because the green notes here -- and maybe it was just my chemistry today -- quickly changed to eau de crap cologne. However: I've been having fantastically good communication today with somebody who's potentially offering me a job; in a separate incident, while I was just sitting around reading a book, my husband, although distracted by a sprained shoulder and a work deadline, passed by me, stopped in his tracks, and complimented me warmly and at length about how awesome I was. I'll take that!

I didn't pick this for its yogic use -- I'm limited in the amount/types of yogas I can do because of a disability, and I know only the very basics about chakra theory -- but if this fixes my sciatica, I will do it intravenously. For skin use, though: I like it a lot. It's very grounding -- it helps bring me back to the present moment, which is something I need a lot, because I tend to -- hey, look, a butterfly! I love the deep grittiness of the (black?) patchouli, tempered a bit by the incense and woods. To me, this reads mostly as a sharp, citrusy patchouli with good throw and, of course, the hellish staying power that patchoulis are known for. I guess I'm developing a bit more of a note-sniffing ability, because I really can tell this apart from Malediction, and feel I could even in a blind nose-test. I would wear Malediction to a big, outdoor event, particularly in the summer when I'd sweat away anything lighter; I would wear Coiled Serpent when I had nobody around to impress, inspire, or inflame but myself, and therein lies the key difference. Both wonderful patchoulis, both very strong, but Malediction is more of a party patchouli. I can see myself cracking open Coiled Serpent to help finish a stubborn task... even though it does not smell like marijuana; it smells like people who might smell like marijuana.

Wet: Woody. Specifically, cedarwood. Why? That's not in the listed notes. Drydown: Who cares? This smells fabulous. I get the musk interplaying with the patchouli leaf very strongly, as I'd expected -- and, as an allergic-asthmatic, I am grateful for blends that allow me to experience a "smoky" note without actually containing tobacco! But the vanilla, yum. This is a rich, dark, deep, complex, commanding blend. This is something I would wear in very grownup situations -- grandeur, gravitas. Its sexiness is implied, rather than directly stated; the herbal notes give it a mysterious quality. Excellent throw and staying power. I need at least another decant, possibly a bottle.

Wet: Red, red wine! Fine wine, with far more throw than I would have expected. This is the first "boozy" scent I've tried that's worked as designed on me. A beautiful mellow sherry, orangey-spicy. Next, I get the deep, dark notes: the oak, stone, and patchouli. Successive stages? It's eerie. You can distinctly track how, on me, the wine gets cheaper over the lifetime of the scent, just the way Montresor fed Fortunato the real thing at first, then increasingly bad wine once he got too drunk to tell the difference. I mean, as a perfume, this is a beautiful, long-lasting perfume on me, and I'll probably seek out more... but if you know the story, it's kind of creepy.

Wet: Green, green, green! Bright, cool, clear green. On skin: First, lemon. When that fades, the tea comes out, and everything pretty much remains the same for as long as this lasts -- unfortunately not that long; this is ephemeral, appropriately enough. I don't get ginger out of this, although I didn't really slather as much as I could have. It's really hot out today. I was headed out the door to my writers' group, and threw on Kumiho, looking for something cool and summery that wouldn't be obnoxious enough to bother the other people sitting around the table. Kumiho was that nice little wave of freshness for me. I don't think I lured anyone to their doom, but tomorrow is another day.

Pound well together sandal-wood, Kunku, costus, Krishnaguru, Suvasika-puspha, white vala and the bark of the Deodaru pine; and, after reducing them to fine powder, mix it with honey and thoroughly dry. ... A fumigation for fascination! A strangely sensual blend, exotic, compelling, and commanding, adapted from an incense recipe found in the venerable sex manual, the Ananga Ranga. Please note: The review below is an example of what can happen if you buy an imp of an oil to test without THOROUGHLY reading up on ALL the notes. Do not do what I did! In imp: Herbal, clean. So why is my nose tickling? Wet: Sweet, sweet sandalwood, full of that other woodsy, spicy something. If only my nose weren't running. Drying down: Like rare Japanese incense -- Nippon Kodo blends. In fact, it reminds me of sitting in the meditation hall... ah, I remember that sangha... where the leader burned that special, special incense... that made me cough... Crap, now the back of my throat tickles. Post-nasal drip, but why? And why is the inside of my elbow irritated? Finally getting a clue: OH SNAP. I didn't read the description on this one thoroughly enough. No wonder it smells like Nippon Kodo incense: it's full of pine -- one of my classic allergens. Crud! This otherwise lovely scent is going off my arm and onto the swaps pile.

In the imp: myrrh. Wet: Deep, deep flowers and resins. On skin: Heady and resinous. Only after a considerable amount of drydown did the sweet sandalwood take over, maybe with a touch of the florals and herbs left at that stage, but this is delicious all the way through. I admit I have a hard time associating the good smells in Eshe with the description. If this is a mummy, she seems unusually fresh, like the ones in Terry Pratchett's Pyramids who break out of their tombs.

Imp: Cologne. Wet on skin: Cologne. This is making me a little crazy (well, more so). If I wanted to smell like expensive cologne, I would... you know... buy some expensive cologne. Drydown: It takes about an hour to get past that posh, snooty cologne thing and into the stage with the musk, aloe, and sandalwood -- and the "papyrus," which I guess is whatever's slightly astringent and keeping all the watery gooshiness in check. Once it's there, it's a lovely funereal-incense skin scent -- but I can get something similar (admittedly, sans the aloe) from Eshe, a Vision of Life-In-Death without having to sit through the posh cologne. Fittingly, this is almost exactly what happened to me with Mr. Jacquel before I got to his spicy, dusty stage. And I know that's actually quite appropriate to the book -- the gods first appear as men, and it's not until quite late in the book that Shadow sees them as they really are, so there's that unmasking between the two stages -- but I'm still puzzling over where I would wear a "power cologne" that suddenly morphs into something else. A really short meeting?

This is a juicy and worthy ofrenda: wet, it's almost pure coconut; as it dries, the coconut is still the dominant note, but the milk and shea butter are more prominent. I don't know how the aquatic note is functioning here, except diluting what could easily have become an overly rich blend. I don't smell sunscreen, and this isn't one of those overly foody scents for me -- the coconut is very clean, very fresh-smelling. I do get the sun, and sunlight -- this is so summery and happy! Lots of people compare this to Milk Moon. I tested the '07 version of that, which still seems to be a bit of an acquired taste for some. Obatala has much more throw, and the milk note never goes funky on me the way the Milk Moon did -- it was sharp, almost sour, in Milk Moon, and was the dominant note there; Obatala is considerably sweeter, and here coconut is dominant (on me, at least). If you're specifically looking for a milk blend, you may still prefer Milk Moon, Milk and Honey, Sudha Segara, etc., because the milk here is hard to detect until the intense coconut dries down -- similar to the way the woods are masked by the lemongrass during the initial stage of Namaste. This is nice. I don't feel the immediate need for a bottle, but it's lovely to have around.

Wet: Toasted coconut in milk, like something you'd get for dessert in India. Drydown: The honey comes out more strongly, then the fig. I get something almost pineapple-like; maybe that's the pomegranate. This has fairly good staying power for a scent that's so clear and that I imagined would run and hide immediately on me. Yeah -- like some funky, milky Indian dessert; I'd say Thai if it had the ginger that's in Sudha Segara. Verdict: It's nice, and I like the complexity, but I think I'm going to spend some more time with the GC Obatala before tripping over myself to get more than the sniffie I had of MM '07. I do find it oddly robust for what it is, which gives it potential for me; while my skin does make it into something coconutty, it's not an obnoxious sunscreen coconut.