garbagewitch

This one's almost entirely floral on me—the combination of rice flower and champaca reminds me of the old-fashioned paper-wrapped bar soap in asian markets. As it settles down, the amber comes in to smooth the florals and give it all a powdery touch. Still VERY floral soap to me, though—no rice milk at all, which is unfortunate, as that was the note I was most excited for.

My skin just eats this one up, which is a bummer, because it's one of my favorites out of the Shungas I snatched up from this batch. Starts out as a soft, almost soft, almost powdery vanilla musk and syrupy apricot, with the brandy coming out to give it a boozy touch. It's soft and powdery and sweet, but in a dark, shadowy kind of way—it reminds me of The Cat, almost, but smoother, not as raspy. Makes me think of drawn curtains, kisses stolen in dimly lit, out-of-the-way rooms, sweetened with a bit of liquid courage.

Tart, sweet lemon!! Very similar to Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat, but a little brighter and sharper. The tartness mellows out as it dries down and gets warmer and smuttier, but it's still distinctly lemony. A very straightforward scent, but loads of fun! Where LSSB makes me crave a nice thick, dense slice of lemon pound cake, Sour Lemon Smut makes my mouth water for sour candy—the extra citric acid zip make me really wanna hold onto this one, even though I could easily borrow my roommate's LSSB.

Warm, smooth vanilla—gourmand, but in a very mellow way, the pleasant scent of a freshly baked cupcake with a bowl of frosting at the ready, rather than a fully iced cupcake shoved right in your face. It gets sweeter as it dries down, with an almost buttery note to it? Definitely a foody scent, but not at all heavy or cloying or unpleasant. There's a smidge of something floral or herbal along the edges that balances things out, and something cool and breezy that gives the makes the scent as a whole so much lighter than it seems like it should be. Makes me think of baking in a cozy, sunlight little kitchen—a breeze through the window ruffles your curtains, skates along your shoulders to send a gentle little shiver down your spine. When you turn back to the counter, you realize that you're short a scone or two, but there's no one around who to play thief. I've never tried any of the Laces, but if this fits into the Lace family, then I understand why people adore them as much as they do.

Funky! Opens up with bright ozone alongside something dark and murky, maybe the leather or the feathers? It's almost grassy, earthy and wet—it reminds me of my lola's garden after a heavy rain. As it dries down further, something else comes into play, sharp and almost... chemical? Weirdly still reminds me of the province in the rain—actually, it almost kind of reminds me of my uncle burning the dead branches and leaves cleared out of the yard. Weird, verging on almost unpleasant, but very interesting! Definitely fulfills the stormy-and-threatening promise from the description.

Opens up bright and almost grassy green. As it settles, some sweetness from the blackberry comes out, but the white tea keeps it on the more reserved side. A citrus-y brightness from the bergamot blooms as it continues to dry down—overall, it's very light and clean, but not in a soapy way. It's like a very light, bright fruit tea, crisp and barely sweetened—makes me want to find a shady spot under a tree and enjoy the sunshine. Very pretty, but I don't think this one is a keeper for me.

The opening is sweet and fruity and LOUD, more plum than anything else, but not just plum. As it dries down, the oakmoss comes through to round things out and give it a little more depth, fuzzy and a little shadowy. With the oakmoss in play, it's still very fruity, but not foody—warm and sweet and a little dark. It might be the heat, but I feel like it has a decent amount of throw; I keep catching little whiffs of it off my wrist while I move around my desk. The overall impression is sweet and bold, straightforward, but not flat—very inviting, the kind of scent that would draw me in on a warm summer night. We're going through old Shungas to try and destash, but this one might actually end up surviving the purge. ㅠ.ㅠ

Famine starts out smooth and dark and almost herbal, black tea with the soft sweet rasp of tobacco and lilac. It’s shadowy and refined, like a pair of sleek, well-worn black leather gloves. As it dries down, it gets lighter, sweeter, and more floral. The lilac and white musk overtake the tobacco, though the black tea lingers to give them a smooth, dry base that keeps it all grounded. We’ve gone from sleek black leather gloves to an elegantly monogrammed handkerchief. Famine is the kind of scent that wouldn’t feel out of place anytime or anywhere; it feels classic the way a three piece suit or a vintage bottle from Guerlain do, almost timeless in its simplicity.

Coffee up front, with the slightest hint of sweetness and creaminess. It’s a very true coffee scent, but not as dark or toasty or rich as I would like it be—there’s a flatness to it that makes me think of coffee that’s been sitting for a while, like the cup you leave two or three sips in just to justify your seat in the coffee shop. The sweetness and vanilla grows more pronounced as it dries down, but it consistently stays smelling like a cup of coffee; it’s just getting closer to the bottom of your vanilla latte and realizing you’re getting to all the vanilla syrup that sunk to the bottom. Very pleasant, makes me weirdly nostalgic for marathon study sessions, but I’m not too bummed that I didn’t snag a bottle for myself.

Wet, Jareth starts off with that same delicious, distractingly heady vanilla-musk that Dorian has—you know the one, it vaults past all your attempts to properly describe it and just slams down on that ‘WANT’ button in your dumb animal brain until all you can write are vaguely pornographic descriptions of Victorian teatime and damp gloves. As it settles, Jareth’s polite pretense slips as something dark and polished—almost slick?—starts to peek out from under that refined facade. Once it’s out, that dark, sharp note quickly gets stronger, without overpowering the sweetness, and that’s definitely leather, black and sleek—and I could swear I’m picking up a hint of latex, too. Woof. Eventually, the intimidatingly dark, slick leather softens and melds with the vanilla-musk, creating a light, buttery smooth musk with a dark edge. It suits Jareth perfectly, smooth and softly menacing, but drawing you in all the same. It smells like someone with gentle hands and a quiet, steady voice suddenly pulling out a crop and grinning with feral fangs. While it’s definitely similar enough to Dorian to warrant every comparison in this thread, it’s also distinct enough to justify owning both, if you’re so inclined. I wouldn’t say it’s less sweet than Dorian, but the leather cuts through the sweetness to give it a very different tone—they have the same refined sensuality, but Jareth is less mannerly, more shadowy and fey. Rather than an elegant Victorian gentleman sitting down to tea, it’s. Well, it’s David Bowie brandishing a riding crop. 😏

Depraved smells like biting into a perfect, golden-pink apricot, so ripe the juice runs down your chin, dropping it in dark, damp soil, and then taking another bite out of it without bothering to clean it off—and something about this scent is so visceral that I almost feel like I can taste it. It starts off with apricot, bright and sweet and wet, immediately chased by something dark and dirty and wrong—black patchouli, natch. The patchouli wraps itself around the apricot, but doesn’t truly blend with it—they both smell distinct, and I think that contributes to the weirdness of the scent. It’s not a dark apricot or a sweet patchouli scent, but two distinct things that that contrast beautifully together—the brilliant gold of an apricot’s flesh, the rich black of fertile soil. The drydown is linear and consistent: the patchouli recedes a little, but is still persistently, darkly dirty. It stays a sweet, sunny fruit edged with with dirt all the way to the end. Fuck, this is the first scent I’ve ever tried with black patchouli, but I already love it. It’s dirty, but in a dark and deeply earthy way rather than the sexual, animalic dirtiness I’m used to from musk and civet. I’ve always been a little bit disappointed by patchouli—it’s lovely in a rough earthy-spicy way when people don’t try to clean it up too much, but it never quite seemed as alarmingly dirty to me as other people described it. This is the patchouli I’ve been hoping for every time someone describes a patchouli you’d hesitate to wear in polite company. I love it when other people can catch a whiff of my perfume—as long as it’s not aggravating, that’s part of the point, right??—but Depraved is funky enough that I actually keep it hidden away while I’m staying with my partner’s family. Along with Debauchery, it’s one of the few scents I’d actually be nervous wearing around certain people, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing!

I was so jazzed when my friend pulled this imp out—Al-Shairan is a scent I've been wanting to try for a good long while, but never managed to make it to the top of my priority list. All the notes are things that I enjoy, if not outright love, and there are no notes I'm inclined to be even a little worried about. What could go wrong??? As soon as I put this on, it smells like someone’s garbage can after Christmas. I get the clove and cinnamon and orange, and it should be great, but there's something mingling with them that makes Al-Shairan go seriously wrong on me. I can’t pick out exactly what it is, but it makes the whole scent smell spoiled somehow. It's like someone took incense from Christmas mass, some beautiful wreathes full of cinnamon sticks, and the leftovers from Christmas dinner, then threw them in the same trash bin and left it all to sit for a few days. 💀 This is the only scent I’ve tried that’s been so bad I’ve actually had to scrub it off, and though I really want to give it another chance, just the memory of the scent literally turns my stomach.

Still wet, The Cat starts out spicy and warm, a rough but friendly rasp of cedar and benzoin that reminds me of being ‘bathed’ by one of my cats. As it dries, it stays warm and sweet, but the cedar calms down to just a slight sharp edge, and the whole scent takes on a soft-focus powdery quality—I’m guessing that’s either the black musk or the honey. It’s definitely not a foody scent, but something about it reminds me of chocolate—I think it’s the sweetness of the benzoin/honey mingling with the spicy-sharp cedar. It dries down to a soft, warm woodsy-skin scent—very natural and pretty, not the kind of thing you smell on someone and register as ‘deliberate’ or ‘perfumey’. The benzoin, musk, and cedar blend perfectly to create something that’s warm and fuzzy, but just a little shadowy, and the honey adds just the slightest touch of sweetness. I can certainly see a very clean cat smelling like this. I was hoping for something darker, deeper, a little more animal, but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised—the Cat in the movie was more of a comforting presence than anything else. I’m on the fence about keeping it, but even though it wasn’t what I was expecting, I’ve definitely enjoyed wearing it and I think it fits its concept perfectly! The Cat is a good scent if you want to smell like you’re not trying at all—clean but not overly fresh, warm and lived in and friendly. Wear it when you want to be as approachable as a kitten snoozing in the sun.

Ancient books, crackled parchment, faded ince nse, and candle wax. This is a weird one for me. Philologus starts off sharp and clean and strangely glossy? It reminds me of a magazine, or the pages of a brand new hardback textbook. It sweetens up, but that weird, shiny magazine-scent sticks around. As it dries down, it takes a sharp turn into a kinda generic cologne scent for a bit, but then quickly goes back to that clean, glossy paper scent. This is also a really strong one on me—once it goes on, it just seems to expand, and if I apply as much as I do with other bpal scents, I end up with a headache (and I very rarely get headaches from scents). The friend who bought it also ended up smelling similar when they wore it, and we spent a while puzzling over what notes could have started out as candle wax, incense, and ancient crackling parchment, then end up as something closer to magazine perfume samples. We've both chalked it up to a sad skin chemistry flub. Queue sad trombone.

Golden amber, hyssop, North African patchouli, and embalming spices. Wet, Mr. Jacquel is warm, golden, and honey-sweet. It’s mostly smooth, glowy amber, with just the slightest herbal rasp underneath it, which I’m guessing is the hyssop. The spices and patchouli are much more subdued than I was expecting, they might be warming up the amber a bit more, but they’re not particularly distinct at this phase. It’s very edible without being straight-up foody; if I smelled this on someone else, I’d want to lean in close and smell them again. As it dries down, the patchouli comes out more and the whole scent gets a little less smooth, a little… ‘dirtier’ isn’t exactly the right word, but it takes on a more lived-in quality. The patchouli in this is very approachable; it avoids being dark or dirty or funky, while still smelling unmistakably like patchouli. Mr. Jacquel is somehow solemn and dignified, but comforting at the same time, which is perfect for the character. This is also one of those scents that’s not overtly sexual, but could definitely be sexy on the right person—it’s so warm and welcoming, if I smelled this on someone else, I’d immediately want to lean in close and smell them again. If the patchouli got just a little dirtier, this would definitely be a full bottle for me, but as it is… I’m not quite sure. I adore the regality of Mr. Jacquel—it’s part of what makes the scent absolutely spot-on for the character—but it’s just not me. It smells like someone much taller than me, with a voice much lower than mine; it smells like someone with gentle, careful hands, like someone who knows how to be patient and still in a way that I’ve never been. I really do love it, though, so much that I might end up snagging a bottle anyways to use as a comfort scent. I might even feel like I’ve grown into it eventually.