Gwydion

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Dewy green leaves colored by Moroccan amber, ginseng, and rooibos. In bottle: This is a tangy, enticing, green leaf sort of scent. It should smell like high end shampoo, but it doesn’t. The ginseng it to feisty, the leaves are too fierce. The tea and amber are lovely in this, warm and friendly. It makes one thing of sitting on the porch watching rain fall through trees while sipping tea. It’s more than the sum of it’s parts. Wet: It smoothes out on the skin, but keeps the characteristic tang and the fierceness of the leaves. I can think of no other scent quite like it. It is unexpected and riveting. Dry: Softer, less complex. Leaf dominant, with a ginseng kick and some soft amber in the background. It’s nice, but less stunning than it was new.

Pinpoints of red light beaming from its eyes scan the room, and in a flutter of leather wings, it scuttles across the wooden floorboards. Polished metallic notes, glossy leather, frankincense, star anise, and thin lubricating oils. In bottle: Mmmm… this has the metallics that mechanical phoenix has with a sweet insensey edge. It is masculine, but sweet. Wet: I love this. It’s got a pleasant aftershave thing going on with an anise/incense effect elevating it. It’s sweet, spicy and sexy all at once, and somehow, very steampunk. Dry: I’m in love, I really am. This is reminding me of red Moon and Pirate Moon. It is sweet and light and spicey, but has more through than either of those lunacies. It is pleasantly complex without being busy. Seriously, this is a winner.

Daphne honey. In bottle: Chalky and very sweet with a sharp edge. Wet: Prickly on the skin, so I’m a bit worried about allergens. It is a lot like honeysuckle only with an almost fruity edge. It goes a little plastic on me. The honey is quite strong and distinct. Lots of throw Dry: The plastic backs off, the effect is a rather sharp, almost bitter berry, stcky with honey sort of floral. Not my thing, but very womanly.

Black hellebore honey. In bottle: It’s a soft, yet sharp floral over honey. The effect is rather like cool tiile and dried flowers in a guest bathroom. Wet: Much more interesting. It is sharp and crisp and vaguely bitter berry/crushed plant. This is bright and scinilatting and utterly unlike it is in the bottle. In distinctly garden, but though it’s got a floreal element, I wouldn’t class it as floral. It’s more whole plant, freshly cut. I am really likeling this. The throw is excellent. Dry: It goes a touch flowery and is more floral on the dry down, but it’s still quietly lovely.

We must have all the old demons of the first class, with tails, and the hobgoblins and imps; and then I think we ought not to leave out the death-horse, or the grave-pig, or even the church dwarf, although they do belong to the clergy, and are not reckoned among our people; but that is merely their office, they are nearly related to us, and visit us very frequently. OLD DEMONS OF THE FIRST CLASS Siberian musk, black clove, opoponax, tonka, black pepper, and neroli. In bottle: It’s like opening a wooden spice chest. The musk and clove are delightful together. The pepper gives a sharp edge to it, the tonka and neroli gentle it. I’m loving this despite the odd note of the opoponax. Wet: This musk is right on the edge of what my skin can handle, but the clove is a good choice as the blend so well. The pepper really comes out on the skin. The whole thing develops a sense of unfolding teeth and claws. Mmmm…. Tonka and neroli. This is so rich and complex and exciting. This is the growl in the back of a sexy man’s throat, promising danger and excitement. Dry: Clovey musk mostly, with a little of the other elements lingering. This really is right on the edge of musks I can wear, as if the clove is clinging to it’s arm, trying to pull it back. Spicy and sexy.

TARANTULA FASCINATOR This summer, Lilith got to play with a ton of bugs, reptiles, and other wigglies during a special event at her preschool. She made a new friend that day – Ursula the Tarantula. “Lilith, what would a tarantula smell like?” “Maybe fuzzy chocolate? With stripes?” Done and done: fuzzy cacao-drenched hazelnut with hay absolute, black pepper, and nutmeg, laced with stripes of wild plum and white sandalwood. In bottle: this really does suit it’s concept. The dominant cocoa note does read as “fuzzy” when supported by sandalwood and hay. The hazelnut adds a richness to the cocoa. The spices give a prickliness to the cocoa. The plum is a surprising counterpoint to the cocoa, giving a sense of unpredictable movement. Wet: Simpler on the skin. The Cocoa is still strongest with the plum in second as counterpoint. The hay and sandalwood fade into each other, still supporting the chocolate, while the hazelnut and nutmeg fade into the cocoa a bit. The pepper keeps its sharpness. Dry: Mostly cocoa and plum with some sandalwood and nutmeg.

For a very gothy Yule. Black licorice slurry with blackcurrant, black fig, and mulberries. In bottle: Mulberry and black current dominant, richly juicy. The fig grounds it and the licorice gives it a bit of bite. This is deliciously designed, if you are looking for a dark berry blend. Wet: The current and mulberry differentiate more one the skin, but still work together beautifully. The berries are flatter and less juicy though still lovely. The fig lends it a gentle warmth. The licorice fades into the background. Dry: Fast fading. Mostly mulberry kissed with currant.

The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. . . . From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house; so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's history of New England Witchcraft, in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed. He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by his residence in this spellbound region. No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover, bordering the little brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old Mather's direful tales, until the gathering dusk of the evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way, by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farmhouse where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination: the moan of the whip-poor-will from the hill-side; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of the screech-owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The fire-flies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch's token. His only resource on such occasions, either to drown thought, or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes;-and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe, at hearing his nasal melody, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road. Dusty black wool, tea with cream, black pepper, muguet, and beeswax candle drippings. In bottle: Deliciously insencey. The pepper lends edge. The wool, tea, cream combination is very pleasant. The label is insanely cute, BTW. Wet: Edgier with a bit more muget. I am thinking it’s actually the lily of the valley that was coming off as incense in the bottle when mixed with the beeswax. This stunning, really in a quiet sneak up on you sort of way. It is more floral than I was expecting, but the whole is so well blended, I don’t particularly mind. Dry: heartbreakingly beautiful floral that simply won’t suit me. This is very sad indeed as it’s that yummy.

PLACOPHOBIA Fear of tombstones. Jagged claws of crumbling stone thrusting through tear-soaked moss. In bottle: Mmm… Exactly what it says in the description. The moss is strongest lying on a bed of moist earth, but the stone pokes through, with the faintest kiss of salty aquatics. Wet: Way more subtle on the skin. The stone accord now sings, surprisingly dominant. The rich moss and loam support the stone giving its place in the spotlight. I'd swear there were granite and sandstone both here. The salty kiss is the faintest of accent, but lovely with the moss. This is unusual. It is hard to get stone accord to sing and dance like this even for a short time, even with such a lovely setting for it. Dry: Moss dominant with a hint of stone and dirt.

The book was commonly known as the Buggre Alle This Bible. The lengthy compositor's error, if such it may be called, occurs in the book of Ezekiel, chapter 48, verse five: 2. And bye the border of Dan, fromme the east side to the west side, a portion for Afher. 3. And bye the border of Afhter, fromme the east side even untoe the west side, a portion for Naphtali. 4. And bye the border of Naphtali, from the east side untoe the west side, a portion for Manaffeh. 5. Buggre all this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone half an oz. of Sense should bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @*"AE@;!* 6. And bye the border of Ephraim, from the east fide even untoe the west fide, a portion for Reuben. [The Buggre Alle This Bible was also noteworthy for having twenty seven verses in the third chapter of Genesis, instead of the more usual twenty four. They followed verse 24, which in the King James version reads: "So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life," and read: 25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee? 26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next. 27 And the Lord did not ask him again. It appears that these verses were inserted during the proof stage. In those days it was common practice for printers to hang proof sheets to the wooden beams outside their shops, for the edification of the populace and some free proofreading, and since the whole print run was subsequently burned anyway, no one bothered to take up this matter with the nice Mr. A. Ziraphale, who ran the bookshop two doors along and was always so helpful with the translations, and whose handwriting was instantly recognizable.] Crumbling paper and ancient cracked leather with a touch of tobacco leaf and incense. In Bottle: This is strongly reminiscent of Aziraphale only with a strong incense scent to it and less geeky. Wet: The tobacco and paper are strongest at first with the leather rising quickly. There is an odor of decay to it. The incense and tobacco rise slowly. This is really different on my skin than in the bottle, very prone to shifting moment to moment in emphasis. Dry: This settles beautifully into a rich mostly leather and incense blend with the other notes riding pleasantly along underneath. It’s rich and dry and sexy in a book geek guy kind of way. I was worried at first, but now I’m really liking it and rather wishing I were smelling it on someone else’s skin, rawr.

Algernon Charles Swinburne All the night sleep came not upon my eyelids, Shed not dew, nor shook nor unclosed a feather, Yet with lips shut close and with eyes of iron Stood and beheld me. Then to me so lying awake a vision Came without sleep over the seas and touched me, Softly touched mine eyelids and lips; and I too, Full of the vision, Saw the white implacable Aphrodite, Saw the hair unbound and the feet unsandalled Shine as fire of sunset on western waters; Saw the reluctant Feet, the straining plumes of the doves that drew her, Looking always, looking with necks reverted, Back to Lesbos, back to the hills whereunder Shone Mitylene; Heard the flying feet of the Loves behind her Make a sudden thunder upon the waters, As the thunder flung from the strong unclosing Wings of a great wind. So the goddess fled from her place, with awful Sound of feet and thunder of wings around her; While behind a clamour of singing women Severed the twilight. Ah the singing, ah the delight, the passion! All the Loves wept, listening; sick with anguish, Stood the crowned nine Muses about Apollo; Fear was upon them, While the tenth sang wonderful things they knew not. Ah the tenth, the Lesbian! the nine were silent, None endured the sound of her song for weeping; Laurel by laurel, Faded all their crowns; but about her forehead, Round her woven tresses and ashen temples White as dead snow, paler than grass in summer, Ravaged with kisses, Shone a light of fire as a crown for ever. Yea, almost the implacable Aphrodite Paused, and almost wept; such a song was that song. Yea, by her name too Called her, saying, "Turn to me, O my Sappho;" Yet she turned her face from the Loves, she saw not Tears for laughter darken immortal eyelids, Heard not about her Fearful fitful wings of the doves departing, Saw not how the bosom of Aphrodite Shook with weeping, saw not her shaken raiment, Saw not her hands wrung; Saw the Lesbians kissing across their smitten Lutes with lips more sweet than the sound of lute-strings, Mouth to mouth and hand upon hand, her chosen, Fairer than all men; Only saw the beautiful lips and fingers, Full of songs and kisses and little whispers, Full of music; only beheld among them Soar, as a bird soars Newly fledged, her visible song, a marvel, Made of perfect sound and exceeding passion, Sweetly shapen, terrible, full of thunders, Clothed with the wind's wings. Then rejoiced she, laughing with love, and scattered Roses, awful roses of holy blossom; Then the Loves thronged sadly with hidden faces Round Aphrodite, Then the Muses, stricken at heart, were silent; Yea, the gods waxed pale; such a song was that song. All reluctant, all with a fresh repulsion, Fled from before her. All withdrew long since, and the land was barren, Full of fruitless women and music only. Now perchance, when winds are assuaged at sunset, Lulled at the dewfall, By the grey sea-side, unassuaged, unheard of, Unbeloved, unseen in the ebb of twilight, Ghosts of outcast women return lamenting, Purged not in Lethe, Clothed about with flame and with tears, and singing Songs that move the heart of the shaken heaven, Songs that break the heart of the earth with pity, Hearing, to hear them. Tonka, oakmoss, tolu balsam, grey amber, myrrh, and muguet. In bottle: sweet and sensual. Amber, tanka, and myrrh on top. I looked up muguet, which seems to be French for lily of the valley, if so, I am guessing it’s responsible for the very faint floral tinge to this. I’d not encountered I am guessing that beautiful new resin overlay is the tolu balsam. In any case, in the bottle, I’m getting a gloriously unique resin blend. Wet: Heaven. If you like amber based resin scents, this may very well be the queen of them. Dry: Very gentle and somehow familiar, though I’m not able to put my finger on why. It is more feminine than anything I generally wear except Dia De Les Muertos, but I will likely where it anyway because it is that good.

Scent your home like a 17th century manor house at Yuletide! Warm gingerbread crafted with almonds, dates, aniseed, raw ginger root, and cinnamon. Review: Strongly almond dominant with sharp ginger and smooth cinnamon in second. The cinnamon will edge ginger into third if you wait. Dates are strong support to the almonds. The bready part of gingerbread takes a little longer to assemble, but is well worth it eventually pushing ahead of the cinnamon. The anise seed is soft, but lovely. This is gorgeous as it settles.

In bottle: It’s a lot greener than the real planting moon. It has a strong dirt note and I swear it makes me think of rain puddles in a garden. The tomato leaf is a lot less prominent. This is more crush vines and faint vegetable garden. It’s interesting, but I’m not in love with it the way I am with the release version. Wet: It’s a touch floral, and lemony. I’m guessing lemongrass rather than citrus due to me amping citrus and not lemon grass, and this isn’t amped. The crushed vines and faint squashiness is sharp and not nearly as well mixed. The dirt remains lovely. It’s faintly lemony. Dry: Vaguely woody, faint traces of plants and dirt. It’s fast fading.

skekNa the Slave-Master The essence of vile gluttony: an abundance of spices, sweet cakes, thick creams, and opulent liqueurs mixed with the scent of whip leather and rusted padlocks. In bottle: A little overwhelming in the bottle. It’s as if the liqueurs have slightly curdled the cream. I blame the rum I strongly suspect is the dominant note. The spices are lovely and blending well with both liqueur and cream as well as tying them together with the soft cake background. The leather and rust form a second faction in counterpoint to the dominant foodie faction. On further consideration, it might be one of these pulling the cream slightly off. The leather is the stronger of the two in this faction, but the rust is dancing with the spice in some interesting ways. I’m not convinced it works in bottle, but my fingers are crossed for how it smells on skin. Wet: Still liqueur dominant, but softer and sweeter on the skin as the cake is now strong enough to smooth the edges. The cream is purer now, so it’s disentangled from whatever was throwing it off. The spices are softer, but continue to tie things together. The cream and spices melt into the leather accord around the edges and the metallics fade into an accent. As it wears, the spices move to dominance as the liqueurs settle down. This is when it really starts to work for me, though I think there may be a scootch too much rum. Dry: Mostly spice over a sweet wash of cake and liqueur.

DARK CHOCOLATE WITH SUN-DRIED TOMATO, PINK PEPPERCORN, THYME, AND COMFREY In bottle: Sweet dark chocolate dominant. Comfrey turns out to go beautifully with chocolate. The sun dried tomato gives a soft, unexpected tang to the chocolate. The pepper gives it a hint of edge. Thyme is extremely understated. Really, this seems to be about giving more support and complexity to the chocolate than showing off the other notes. Wet: The comfrey is stronger on the skin, almost coequal with the rich dark chocolate. It’s a lovely effect. The peppercorn and thyme separate out a little, but play well with the dominant scents. The thyme brings a little more of the tomato out as it emerges, making it a touch more savory on the skin than in the bottle. The result is quite lovely and unusual. I love the way the sweet and savory work together, and can only marvel at the cleverness of the brain who thought to combine these scents, not usually associated. Dry: The dark chocolate fades to a ghost haunting the comfrey. The thyme fades back to just present, and I can’t find the tomato at all. Comfrey turns out to make a nice enough scent by itself, but this is not as exciting as it was wet.

PETE LALA'S CAFE Dusty leather, dry cedar and fir, fresh tobacco smoke, and the scent of tucked-away gris gris bags for luck in love, potency, and virility. Review: They aren’t kidding about the cedar. The fir is next strongest. I’m likely the tobacco laced wood and the earthy, dusty, vaguely herbal edge. This is beautiful and evocative.

BUT MEN LOVED DARKNESS RATHER THAN LIGHT The world's light shines, shine as it will, The world will love its darkness still. I doubt though when the world's in hell, It will not love its darkness half so well. The world will love its darkness: cistus labdanum, ginger, East Indian patchouli, pimento berry, oakmoss, saffron, smoky vanilla, sage, myrrh, and bitter clove. In Bottle: This is lovely. The spice and the incense are bridged by the rich smokey vanilla. There is a touch more patchouli than I like, but honestly, the blend is so interesting and complex, I don’t much care. Wet: It reminds be a little of ventriloquist dummy, with that odd combination of food and dust, but the berry and vanilla are really it’s saving grace, as it warms, it transforms the patchouli and the dryer of the incenses back into something soft and wet. I’m not a big fan of berry, but this is unusual and modest, supporting and strengthening the other elements and helping the clove, sage, and myrrh to really shine here. The longer it wears, the less like Dummy it gets. It reminds me of church after services in Advent, the lights dim, but the air still warm from all those bodies and filled with spice, bayberry candle scent, and expectation. And then the oakmoss comes out and were in a mossy dark cave with incense and eggnog, and those strange, glorious berries. Dry: The berries end up strongest at the end. It still has a lovely spice edge and a hint of incense. Whether you’ll like this probably depends on if you like the less sweet, somewhat sour type of berries common in Christmas scents. I really did like this, but if you’re expecting sweeter berries, you’ll be disappointed.

THE UNSAVORY GRAVE-DIGGERS "The great thing is not to be afraid. Now, between you and me, I don't want to hang--that's practical; but for all cant, Macfarlane, I was born with a contempt. Hell, God, Devil, right, wrong, sin, crime, and all the old gallery of curiosities --they may frighten boys, but men of the world, like you and me, despise them. Here's to the memory of Gray!" It was by this time growing somewhat late. The gig, according to order, was brought round to the door with both lamps brightly shining, and the young men had to pay their bill and take the road. They announced that they were bound for Peebles, and drove in that direction till they were clear of the last houses of the town; then, extinguishing the lamps, returned upon their course, and followed a by-road toward Glencorse. There was no sound but that of their own passage, and the incessant, strident pouring of the rain. It was pitch dark; here and there a white gate or a white stone in the wall guided them for a short space across the night; but for the most part it was at a foot pace, and almost groping, that they picked their way through that resonant blackness to their solemn and isolated destination. In the sunken woods that traverse the neighbourhood of the burying-ground the last glimmer failed them, and it became necessary to kindle a match and reillumine one of the lanterns of the gig. Thus, under the dripping trees, and environed by huge and moving shadows, they reached the scene of their unhallowed labours. They were both experienced in such affairs, and powerful with the spade; and they had scarce been twenty minutes at their task before they were rewarded by a dull rattle on the coffin lid. At the same moment Macfarlane, having hurt his hand upon a stone, flung it carelessly above his head. The grave, in which they now stood almost to the shoulders, was close to the edge of the plateau of the graveyard; and the gig lamp had been propped, the better to illuminate their labours, against a tree, and on the immediate verge of the steep bank descending to the stream. Chance had taken a sure aim with the stone. Then came a clang of broken glass; night fell upon them; sounds alternately dull and ringing announced the bounding of the lantern down the bank, and its occasional collision with the trees. A stone or two, which it had dislodged in its descent, rattled behind it into the profundities of the glen; and then silence, like night, resumed its sway; and they might bend their hearing to its utmost pitch, but naught was to be heard except the rain, now marching to the wind, now steadily falling over miles of open country. They were so nearly at an end of their abhorred task that they judged it wisest to complete it in the dark. The coffin was exhumed and broken open; the body inserted in the dripping sack and carried between them to the gig; one mounted to keep it in its place, and the other, taking the horse by the mouth, groped along by wall and bush until they reached the wider road by the Fisher's Tryst. Here was a faint, diffused radiancy, which they hailed like daylight; by that they pushed the horse to a good pace and began to rattle along merrily in the direction of the town. They had both been wetted to the skin during their operations, and now, as the gig jumped among the deep ruts, the thing that stood propped between them fell now upon one and now upon the other. At every repetition of the horrid contact each instinctively repelled it with the greater haste; and the process, natural although it was, began to tell upon the nerves of the companions. Macfarlane made some ill-favoured jest about the farmer's wife, but it came hollowly from his lips, and was allowed to drop in silence. Still their unnatural burden bumped from side to side; and now the head would be laid, as if in confidence, upon their shoulders, and now the drenching sackcloth would flap icily about their faces. A creeping chill began to possess the soul of Fettes. He peered at the bundle, and it seemed somehow larger than at first. All over the countryside, and from every degree of distance, the farm dogs accompanied their passage with tragic ululations; and it grew and grew upon his mind that some unnatural miracle had been accomplished, that some nameless change had befallen the dead body, and that it was in fear of their unholy burden that the dogs were howling. "For God's sake," said he, making a great effort to arrive at speech, "for God's sake, let's have a light!" Seemingly Macfarlane was affected in the same direction; for, though he made no reply, he stopped the horse, passed the reins to his companion, got down, and proceeded to kindle the remaining lamp. They had by that time got no farther than the cross-road down to Auchenclinny. The rain still poured as though the deluge were returning, and it was no easy matter to make a light in such a world of wet and darkness. When at last the flickering blue flame had been transferred to the wick and began to expand and clarify, and shed a wide circle of misty brightness round the gig, it became possible for the two young men to see each other and the thing they had along with them. The rain had moulded the rough sacking to the outlines of the body underneath; the head was distinct from the trunk, the shoulders plainly modelled; something at once spectral and human riveted their eyes upon the ghastly comrade of their drive. —The Body-Snatchers, RL Stevenson An unearthed oakwood coffin, cemetery weeds, and a hint of booze. In bottle: Mmmmm….the dark liquor and old wood combination is strong, rich, and heady,. This is exactly what I hoped for. The sharpness of the weeds, gives this lovely blend teeth. I’m in love already and it hasn’t touched my skin. Wet: it’s not quite as lovely as in the bottle, but close. I can’t think of a blend with wood this wonderful, and the booze is softer here, but still adds a key sweetness to balance the plants. It’s wonderful, androgynous, and strangely sexy. I can’t stop sniffing it. I want to roll around in it. Dry: Mmmmm… I swear it’s even better. The plants come into their own, adding a real autumnal feel. I can almost swear I smell nitre too, though I think that’s a fungus, so it likely isn’t. The woods only get richer and more lovely and the booze smoothes everything out. Sheer brilliance!

In bottle: The Teakwood and licorice go together rather well. There is a strong element of polish to the wood. Wet: Really nice. The Teakwood warms beautifully on the skin. The licorice and hint of polish give lovely support. It almost makes a civet accord. It almost makes a civet accord. I really like this. Dry: Rich, lovely, vaguely civety teakwood.

In bottle: Heavenly pear floating in a gentle sea of musk and milk. It's exquisite and comforting. Wet: Even more pear on the skin, but milk remains strong and the musk grows stronger as it warms. I really do adore this. Dry: Mostly milk with a touch of musk.

In bottle: Oakmoss dominant, with a strong, chalky musk in support. Wet: Sweeter and softer on the skin, and very well balanced Dry: Oakmoss and a touch of rooibos.

In bottle: Very heady incense. Champaca dominant with strong sandalwood support, softened by coconut,on a gentle canvass of leather. It's too strong for skin testing.

In bottle: intricate and delicate. Fir needle dominant, with the tea gently pervasive, like a wash in the background of a watercolor painting. The oakmoss supports the fir; the amber blends beautifully with the tea. The ginger lends a hint of zing; the apricot a splash of colour. Wet: It remains fir dominant, but it all blends together even better as it warms. The reslt is very clean and smooth. Dry: Oakmoss, tea, and a kiss of ginger.

In bottle: Lavender dominant with strong bergamot support. The Apple is second strongest and beautifully blended with the cream. The patchouli is gentle and supports the apple. Wet: The apple moves into dominance with lavender and bergamot in strong support. It is perfection. The vanilla cream smoothes the edges and that hint of patch is just right, enough to tease the nose without standing out. I wish I had a bottle of this, because I think it would have been a favorite. Dry: Mostly lavender.

In bottle: Very green apple and a tad more perfumey than expected. Wet: Sweet and exquisite on the skin, the gentleness of the honey perfectly balances he crispness of the apple. I wish I had a bottle. Dry: Mostly honey with a hint of apple.