LilBaephomet

In the corresponding episode of “15 Minutes of ‘Fume,” our favorite Labbies describe Woman as Dragon as Volcanic. That imagery is hauntingly apropos as one ventures through layer after layer of heat. In the bottle it smells hot, spiky, and molten, but there is this tempting sweetness that runs under all that fire that makes her ever more terrifying. The pink peppercorn glitters as the ginger and clove scorch. All the while, the earthiness of the soil, tar, and patchouli remind us that her breath is one of life and death in equal measure. This fragrance is alluring and alarming. It is both lethally searing and seductively incandescent. I tend to not lean into the spicy range of fragrances, but this great infernal mother has me thoroughly enraptured through gape-mouthed awe, complete love, and utter despair.

The Woman at the Edge of the Woods is literally endless, just like her forest. It vacillates between thorny and prickling to strong celery herbaceousness, but it also has that really entrancing dry, perfume-y quality you get whenever you are in the herb section of a good occult store. And you are trying to suss out which herb it is that smells so captivating and it is always, invariably, the herb you absolutely should not be handling. This fragrance is so transportive and experiential, it is difficult to truly capture the individual notes because they rise and fall so unpredictably that catching them feels like grabbing at fog. If you are looking for a fragrance that smells of a witch’s cottage in a dark glade, cauldron bubbling, garden overgrown with herbs so green they are almost black, this is the fragrance for you. The longevity of this fragrance is stellar and after a couple hours of wear, the notes of myrrh, swirled with the ghosts of vanilla and patchouli keep pulling at the brain.

Bluebeard’s Wife is literally crying in the bathtub as a fragrance. (I’ve done plenty of that this year, consider me an expert.) It is the sad girl jam I have always needed. It’s Daisy tearing apart the letter from Gatsby on her wedding day after having destroyed her pearl necklace while the orchestral version of “Young and Beautiful” swells. In the bottle, it smells like warm salty tears spilled into a vessel filled with rose water. On the skin, some soapy notes begin to emerge, that saltiness translating to a once luxurious bath that has not quite gone cold though the occupant has not quite mustered the strength to extract themselves...or may never muster that strength. As it dries, the florals continue to float at the top, the brine settling to the bottom, and we are left between with steamed pink skin and tear-bruised eyes. If you enjoy a bright oceanic note, ghostly delicate florals, or the hazy echo of bath soap, I highly recommend this fragrance for you.

I’m not too proud to beg if begging could bring back the Tarot series. This was my very first BPAL fragrance, and as The Empress is my favorite card in the deck and this fragrance was the apex of Venusian Luxury, I knew I had to have it. The oudh, jasmine, and rose all work together to create what I do very inelegantly like to call “a good stanky rose.” Much like Mata Hari (who is the closest I have gotten to success in my chase of The Squishy Cushions dragon), the floral has the smokey, woody, sticky undercurrent of a rose incense, as opposed to fresh cut flowers. The florals settle and become softer as the oudh steps back and lets the sandalwood drift forward, but the fragrance never slips out of its own opulence. It hangs heavy around like brocade silk and coils of perfumed smoke. This fragrance is a head turner and will have those you permit into your close proximity asking for second and third whiffs of your neck (pre-Covid this sentiment was much sexier.) It is my signature fragrance but now I save it only for special occasions because I can’t imagine having to do without it.

This is another new addition to my collection thanks to The Tournament of the Underdogs. If I were to consolidate this fragrance down to a moment, I would say it is a crystallization of Nina Simone (and much later, Lana Del Rey) crooning “The Other Woman/ Keeps fresh cut flowers in each room.” It is a strong recommendation from me for anyone who likes a light floral whose richer components further elevate said lightness into the true radiance of a sunlit garden. On the forefront, the calla lily and wisteria aptly capture the airiness of delicate fresh flowers in a crystal vase that still exude that wafting, wet, green chlorophyll note from where their stems were cut. As it begins to dry and settle, the notes of sandalwood and rose create the dusty halo through which the floral sunlight streams into this frankincense cathedral. The fragrance is beautifully light, so if you are someone like me that tends to select robust fragrances and then apply them with the intent of being smelled through the gaseous cloud-cover of Venus, then this could be a beautiful moment of respite for those in close proximity to you, or a great exercise in testing just how much skin you are capable of covering with perfume to achieve a similar effect as you would get with aforementioned huskier fragrances.

The Tournament of the Underdogs inspired me to finally purchase this fragrance. She has made it into my cart more times than I can count, only to just barely miss the final cut. Now that she has joined my repertoire, she is an instant classic and a core fragrance of mine. I HIGHLY recommend for any lovers of voluptuous florals, Smokey undertones, and lustrous, jammy fruit. Disclaimer: For the sake of those reading this, I promise not I will not make this a love letter to the historical Mata Hari, whose name alone inspires so much admiration in me that I bought this perfume almost equally out of fandom and the pleasing fragrance notes.* Straight out of the bottle, she is bold, seductive, and provocative. The florals come directly to the forefront, with the mahogany creating a rich smoky undercurrent. It truly smells exactly like a stick or cone of bold rose incense fresh from a newly opened package. As she blooms, the sweetness of the vanilla and the jammy notes of the fig make themselves known. The femme fatale melts away to reveal the heartfelt lover, honey-sweet and amorous. Finally, she leaves us with the rich, bitter mingling of the coffee bean with last gasps of fruit. The sanguine kiss blown at her own fate to fade beautifully and drift away. *For those reading this, I have failed to keep my promise. I’m not sorry.