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LittleGreyKitten's Profile

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12-January 06
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User is offline Mar 05 2008 11:01 PM

My Information

Member Title:
evil enabler
37 years old
January 6, 1977
Female Female
I got sucked into making mineral pigment makeup lately- it started so harmlessly, and then all of a sudden I realized there was only one thing to do: start a website to sell some of my creations. I focus mostly on unusual, unique multipurpose pigments... a lot of the colors go well with un-natural hair colors and are generally rather gothy in theme. You can use them for eye makeup mostly, but they can go into nail polish, on cheeks, in lip gloss, etc. ArchetypeCosmetics.com is the name of the site. I sell samples and if you want to try some for free just PM me and I'll send you a code for 3 free samples &amp; free shipping.<br /><br />I love collecting antiques, especially Art Deco art glass, and any Art Nouveau silver I can get my little paws on. Like Love Disarmed flatware by Reed &amp; Barton, or Kerr sterling purses. I work with antiques too- my husband and I own an antique mall north of Seattle.<br /><br />I can't afford much of anything by Rene Lalique though I lurve his work, so I have one of his designs tattooed on my upper back- it is supposedly a &quot;stomacher&quot; or large brooch. My other tattoo I'm really proud of is an Art Nouveau design I created myself on my shoulder. You can see all those on my website here: http://www.littlegreykitten.com/Tattoos.html<br /><br />I read a lot too, ravenously actually, and some of my favorite authors are Caitlin R. Kiernan, Neil Gaiman, some of Laurell K. Hamilton's earlier work, as well as much miscellaneousness. <br /><br />I also oil paint. I graduated from a tiny private art college in Seattle in 1999, with a BFA in oil painting and intaglio print. I have a some paintings in a gallery in Centralia, WA. I do a lot of slightly surreal self portraits, and spooky-ish landscapes.

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Website URL  http://www.littlegreykitten.com


Favorite Scents:
Top Ten: Snake Charmer (veryvery most favoritest!), 13 (06), Spooky, Monster Bait: Closet, Hungry Ghost Moon, Lick It, Candy Butcher, Obatala, Snake Oil (aged over 1 year only) Monster Bait: Underpants, Madame Moriarty.

More: Eat Me, Drink Me, Storyville, Chaos Theory II: CDLXII, Milk Moon, Beaver Moon, Creepy, Pumpkin Queen, Frost Moon, Cold Moon, Bliss, Snow-Flakes, Treat #2, Treat #1, Sugar Cookie, Shub Niggurath, Snow Bunny, Velvet, Trick or Treat, Snow Angel


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Topics I've Started

  1. The Arrival at the Sabbath and Homage to the Devil

    05 January 2007 - 09:06 PM


    The Arrival at the Sabbath and Homage to the Devil, Antoine-François de Saint-Aubert.
    Bourbon vanilla, benzoin, caramel, Mysore sandalwood, aged black patchouli, carnation, and iris florentina.

    Oh my, this is delicious. Foody foody yum! It's mostly caramel and bourbon vanilla on me, with caramel on top. The patchouli is probably in there providing a nice base, but this is definitely one of the Heavy Foodies, like Gluttony or Cockaigne. Incidentally I can't wear either of those; though I'm a huge fan of most of Beth's foodies, those are a little too much even for me. This blend, although heavier and sweeter than the ones I usually adore, must be just a hair lighter, as instead of gagging me I'm loving it.

    The florals on me are too caramel-overwhelmed to smell. Really this is almost a single note caramel on me, to be honest... not that I mind!

    5 out of 5.

    EDITED TO ADD: This has grown on me even more; I get the soft, gorgeous florals, mostly carnation, peeking through now, on dry down, and I LOVE how they harmonize; normally I'm not a floral girl but they are a perfect counterpoint. Also the vanilla and caramel are definitely softer and lighter than I thought at first. I'm finding myself reaching for this one a LOT. Oddly, the patchouli is the only note I barely detect (I'd never guess it was in the blend without knowing to look for it.)

    After having it for a bit now, I'd no longer say it's one of Beth's Really Heavy Foodies- not sure if it settle down a bit in the bottle already or if I adjusted to it.

    Edited to add image - clover
  2. The Pit & The Pendulum

    08 March 2006 - 05:10 AM

    I was sick — sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence — the dread sentence of death — was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution — perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white — whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words — and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness — of immoveable resolution — of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe.

    The depths of despair, a dark Ecclesiatical triumph: the incense of the Inquisition.

    The Pit and the Pendulum smells almost exactly like Al-Azif to me. Both have MAAAAJOR throw- like I suspect yards- and are piercingly sweet yet dark incense aromas. There's some extra note in P&P that relates it to the other Maelstrom scents (I think Beth often puts something in each one of a set of LE scents to relate them, I noticed it in Lupercalia too). However it is so very much like Al-Azi I may not keep it, plus I don't wear Al-Azif a ton anyway. I find Al-Azif a bit sweeter, and P&P a bit spicier. For me I'd give it a 3 out of 5, though if you like incense blends go for it. I just have many I prefer, and this is one I feel uncomfortable wearing in public due to how strong it is on me. Your mileage may vary, though, since my skin amps incense to all hell and sweetens it a lot too.
  3. The Premature Burial

    08 March 2006 - 01:53 AM

    For some minutes after this fancy possessed me, I remained without motion. And why? I could not summon courage to move. I dared not make the effort which was to satisfy me of my fate — and yet there was something at my heart which whispered me it was sure. Despair — such as no other species of wretchedness ever calls into being — despair alone urged me, after long irresolution, to uplift the heavy lids of my eyes. I uplifted them. It was dark — all dark. I knew that the fit was over. I knew that the crisis of my disorder had long passed. I knew that I had now fully recovered the use of my visual faculties — and yet it was dark — all dark — the intense and utter raylessness of the Night that endureth for evermore.

    I endeavored to shriek-, and my lips and my parched tongue moved convulsively together in the attempt — but no voice issued from the cavernous lungs, which oppressed as if by the weight of some incumbent mountain, gasped and palpitated, with the heart, at every elaborate and struggling inspiration.

    The movement of the jaws, in this effort to cry aloud, showed me that they were bound up, as is usual with the dead. I felt, too, that I lay upon some hard substance, and by something similar my sides were, also, closely compressed. So far, I had not ventured to stir any of my limbs — but now I violently threw up my arms, which had been lying at length, with the wrists crossed. They struck a solid wooden substance, which extended above my person at an elevation of not more than six inches from my face. I could no longer doubt that I reposed within a coffin at last.

    And now, amid all my infinite miseries, came sweetly the cherub Hope — for I thought of my precautions. I writhed, and made spasmodic exertions to force open the lid: it would not move. I felt my wrists for the bell-rope: it was not to be found. And now the Comforter fled for ever, and a still sterner Despair reigned triumphant; for I could not help perceiving the absence of the paddings which I had so carefully prepared — and then, too, there came suddenly to my nostrils the strong peculiar odor of moist earth. The conclusion was irresistible. I was not within the vault. I had fallen into a trance while absent from home-while among strangers — when, or how, I could not remember — and it was they who had buried me as a dog — nailed up in some common coffin — and thrust deep, deep, and for ever, into some ordinary and nameless grave.

    As this awful conviction forced itself, thus, into the innermost chambers of my soul, I once again struggled to cry aloud. And in this second endeavor I succeeded. A long, wild, and continuous shriek, or yell of agony, resounded through the realms of the subterranean Night.

    Oppressive darkness, expressed through black orchid and patchouli, smothered by wet soil, a coffin's teakwood, and the funereal gloom of cypress.

    Premature Burial is kind of Smutty around the edges. It starts off very, very wet dirt in the bottle and wet on the wrist, but it dries to a lovely musky, sweet scent that sweetens even more as it dries. It still smells a bit like dirt but not as strongly, and the dirt scent is more like an earthy, deep, dark scent rather than a big pile of wet dirt as the bottle aroma suggests. I do like it more than I expected; I'm not a fan of dirt smell usually but this actually works. It's certainly interesting and much more wearable than expected. The tinge of wood is actually noticiable, and really lovely, though it is faint. I don't really sense cypress; I'm pretty sure the sweet note is orchid. I kind of feel like Beth is doing variations on the Smut theme... which is fine by me!! It just has an edge that reminds me of Smut, and I don't know what it is; it's not a twin or anything, but I just feel that there is a note in common (which I like quite a bit). For me, 4.5 out of 5.
  4. The Masque

    08 March 2006 - 01:46 AM

    He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these — the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who reveled.

    And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise — then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

    Bold and fiery, glowing with barbaric luster: this is the scent of the House of Prospero, the scent of hubris, mad revelry, folly and indifferent decadence, a measured passage through its lurid corridors and seven grotesque apartments. Honey and carnation, rich incense and rose accord, myrtle, red sandalwood, amber, jonquil and clove propel you through the revel, finally seating itself in the final, patchouli, tobacco and labdanum drenched darkness of the blood-tinged western chamber.

    The Masque is tied with Usher as my favorite in the Maelstrom. It reminds me of the way I wished Luperci smelled- very beeswax (especially wet) with a spicy, musky undertone. I'm not getting carnation out of it except I suspect the spicy scent is partially carnation. The tobacco and clove are two notes I definitely don't get, though I'm sure they contribute to the whole. It's definitely a lovely scent. The honey in it is different than BPAL's usual honey; I like both, but this one smells more like actual beeswax to me. The amber is not powdery in the slightest, and the patchouli contributes a dark flavor to it, I think. The spiciness beneath the honey is delicious. It gets more complex as it dries. It doesn't last amazingly well, but not bad either- say about 4 or 5 hours. It stays pretty close to the skin on me after it's dried. 5 out of 5.


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  1. Photo


    16 Jun 2008 - 00:02
    Hi! I received some samples of your eyeshadows from another forumite and immediately placed an order! Fabulous colors! So glad to find out you are here, too!
    Keep up the excellent work!
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